Through an intimate reconstruction of an important phone call, When The Phone Rang investigates dislocation and the nature of remembering. In the protagonist's eleven year old mind the phone call erases her entire country, history and identity and hides its existence in books, films and memories of those born before 1995.
After their father is conscripted during the 1999 NATO bombing of Serbia, three sisters begin a Hi8 video diary in their countryside home. They film each other putting on make-up, picking cherries, playing party games, getting into fights and helping their mother cook. This fragile, intimate world is perhaps their only shelter from the reality of bombings, sirens and war.
A young nurse starts a new assignment in a small isolated village in the farthest reaches of Turkey, a place that seems asleep in an endless winter. A thick layer of snow covers the souls as well as the lands. But under the snow, unspeakable secrets hibernate.
Two young nuns meet during a Catholic gathering in Croatia and fall in love. They live in two separate convents, but the spaces they once considered havens of solace and spiritual fulfillment turn out to be more earthly than expected. Disillusioned by the Church and the sexual and psychological abuse within, yet driven by blossoming love, they make the most difficult decision of their life - to leave the convent.
Documentary western drama about the last days of the hypnotic community of plastic bottle collectors aka bottlemen at one of the biggest unsanitary landfills in the world.
Conjuring reality and wonder, "Speak so I Can See You" takes us to a seemingly different era, by exploring the world of Radio Belgrade. One of Europe's oldest radio stations and a true institution of the city, the station still broadcasts original programming and helps keep history, culture and critical thought, as well as everrelevant questions about ourselves and the world, from slipping out of memory and mind. Set at the intersection of an observational documentary and a unique sensory experience, the film conjures everyday scenes at the station and immersing interludes exploring the relationship between sound and the space it inhabits. Through a synesthetic blend of sounds, words, notes, echoes and light, we are taken into a unique cinematic soundscape that doubles as a love letter to radiophonic art and its disarming insight into what makes us remember, understand, think, discover, and feel.
A silent landscape flashes past the windows of a moving car conveying different sets of passengers. The conversations veer towards such diverse themes as carol-singing, nuclear waste, and the dangers of hornets’ nests. Tea Lukač’s anthropological probe gets by with a minimum of cinematic devices in order to deliver a focused study of the phenomena of memory, history and tradition.
