Sep 6, 2022

Hawk the Slayer (Terry Marcel, 1980)

If I had seen Hawk the Slayer three decades ago, it would’ve certainly made one of the fondest memories of my childhood, so I guess that this feeling I have now could be called ‘anemoia’. A timeless story of good vs. evil and siblings rivalry, this hammy, yet immensely enjoyable and dynamically paced ‘sword & sorcery’ flick takes cues from Dungeons & Dragons lore, westerns and legends of yore, coming across as a spiritual prequel to plenty of hack and slash / beat ‘em up games of the 90’s, as well as to Record of Lodoss War anime.

A valiant, mindsword-wielding hero, Hawk (played with low-key stoicism by John Terry), seeks to avenge both his father and beloved one who died at the hands of his older brother, Voltan (Jack Palance who chews the scenery like there is no tomorrow, exemplifying evil as he so often did), and accompanying him are a motley crew (an elf, a dwarf, a giant and a warrior) guided by a blind seer / sorceress (Patricia Quinn of The Rocky Horror Picture Show fame, speaking in a mystically hushed voice). Their combined efforts are also required by a flap of nuns whose abbess has been kidnapped by the forces of darkness drawing power from a mysterious black wizard who could’ve easily inspired the Shadow Weaver character from Filmation’s ‘The Secret of the Sword’ cartoon.

And so, the phantasmagorical adventure begins, taking you into a spiderweb-infested heart of the forest, a cave filled with glowing light, an ascetically furnished monastery, a Gothic arched, skull-decorated chamber of High Abbot, and a minimalist castle interior with walls covered in gold, and two gargoyles staring into a pool of smoke. The sets are obviously designed on a tight budget, but there’s something intensely charming about them, and not to mention those enchanting matte paintings and oh-so-80’s neon special effects which – supported by a groovy, delightfully off-kilter disco score (Harry Robertson) – add to the film’s irresistible naivety. Speaking of music, it is certainly a most unexpected choice, and somehow, it works admirably or rather, psychedelically well with the pseudo-medieval visuals captured in hazily dreamy cinematography by Paul Beeson. It goes without saying that an extra dose of suspension of disbelief can significantly enhance the viewing experience.

Sep 1, 2022

Best Premiere Viewings of August 2K22

1. Golem (Piotr Szulkin, 1980)


Based on Gustav Meyrink’s novel of the same name, Golem is a masterclass in feverishly disorienting atmosphere established through a puzzling, decidedly incoherent narrative, oppressive amber-green lighting, the crumbling dystopian setting of dispiriting grays, and insidiously hushed music theme which intensifies the overwhelming feeling of inescapable dread. Relentlessly irrational, to the point of distorting the viewer’s own perception of reality, this tautly directed nightmare engraves itself into one’s memory with some of the sharpest cinematic tools. 

2. Egomania - Insel ohne Hoffnung / Egomania: Island Without Hope (Christoph Schlingensief, 1986)

“I saw the Devil. He was more beautiful than me.”

A ruthlessly anarchic phantasmagoria, Egomania feels like an unholy cross between Zwartjes and Jarman, with bits of Ottinger and Żuławski thrown in for good measure. It frequently subverts your expectations and keeps you in the state of revelatory befuddlement, as it reaches the deepest and darkest levels of both your subconscious and unconscious mind. Christoph Schlingensief goes absolutely nuts with delightfully abrasive visuals, bizarre musical choices, ravingly poetic dialogue, freakishly fragmented narrative, and decidedly hectic editing, as the entire cast follows him on the bumpy path of creative lunacy. Leading his colleagues is legendary Udo Kier as Baron/Devil/Devil’s Aunt (may be one and the same character?) who munches the scenery with great gusto, and spits it all over the others, with the ethereal Tilda Swinton in an understated performance acting like his angelic counterbalance.

A suggestion for a double bill - Luminous Void: Docudrama (Rouzbeh Rashidi, 2019)

3. Czułe miejsca / Tender Spots (Piotr Andrejew, 1981)


Piotr Andrejew comes extremely close to his compatriot and namesake Szulkin in building the oppressively alluring atmosphere of growing despair in a polluted dystopia, but his unorthodox sci-fi romance is imbued with the sense of (slightly twisted) tenderness emanating from a man-child hero – ‘sentimental idealist’ Jan (the superbly whimsical performance from Michał Juszczakiewicz). Stunningly lensed in black and white that emphasizes the bleakness of the retro-futuristic setting, and backed by moody jazz & synth tunes that lend it a noirish edge, Tender Spots has its love triangle story distorted through the prism of toxic ambition embodied by Jan’s vain girlfriend Ewa, the tottering system, and unlikely friendship with a little girl who seems to be the only person – beside the protagonist, that is – rejecting conformity and seeing the UFOs...

4. Wojna światów - następne stulecie / The War of the Worlds: Next Century (Piotr Szulkin, 1981)

Kafka meets Orwell in Piotr Szulkin’s sophomore flick – yet another brilliant piece of dystopian fiction that still feels frighteningly relevant. Yes, it is quite ‘on the nose’ with its allegory of authoritarian regimes and manipulative power of the media, yet it is so well made, that you won’t be able to resist it. Instead, you will just want to keep resisting the toxic emanations from the global cesspool of defamatory information (unless you’re a white sheep). Dipped in steely grays and coolly blues, this confrontational sci-fi drama is directed with red-hot burning passion that leaves its marks in details. Also praiseworthy are superb performances, particularly from Roman Wilhelmi portraying the oppressed hero who delivers a memorable (and here, partially quoted) speech by the end:

“From the TV chaos you choose the truths you find as convenient. You accept only what confirms your conviction that passivity is a virtue and a necessity. Because this is exactly what you want to believe. You cry, you feel sorry for yourselves. And then what? You sit in front of a TV set. You feel absolved. More human than those you look at. And you look at people who are just like yourselves. Just as hypocritical, just as weak. Just as submissive...”

5. Szenvedély / Passion (György Fehér, 1998)


Based on James M. Cain's novel The Postman Always Rings Twice and co-written by Béla Tarr whose influence is obvious right from the opening, 6-minute-long one-taker, György Fehér’s swan song – a rural neo-noir – is a film of immense formal strength, depressingly and stiflingly poetic in its languorous pacing, constant raining, foreboding silences and grainy chiaroscuro visuals. Counteracting the tension concentrated in the shadows as dark as the abyss of human treachery is a sole breather that sees the lovers bathed in light peacefully reclining in bed.

6. Calm with Horses (Nick Rowland, 2019)


What a powerful debut! Nick Rowland delivers an intense and engaging character study, eliciting excellent performances from his entire cast, particularly from Cosmo Jarvis in the impressive leading role. Supported by always reliable Barry Keoghan, and utterly charming Niamh Algar, Jarvis portrays antihero Douglas ‘Arm’ Armstrong – an ex-boxer enforcer for a drug-dealing family – with a rugged sincerity, pronounced physicality and deeply felt emotion. All the subtleties of his and his colleagues’ micro-acting are captured with clockwork precision in Piers McGrail’s eye-catching cinematography that emphasizes the magnificent beauty of Irish countryside, and ostensible peacefulness of a small town where the (brutal and tragic) story is set. On top of that, an unobtrusive, yet evocative score by Blanck Mass serves not only as a complement of the tip-top visuals, but also as a brooding soundscape for Arm’s deteriorating inner state.

7. The Ultimate Warrior (Robert Clouse, 1975)


Yul Brynner and Max von Sydow lend some serious gravitas to this slightly pulpy, yet mighty fine piece of post-apocalyptic cinema, the former portraying a stoic, knife-wielding fighter, Carson, and the latter in the role of an intelligent leader of a small commune living from hand to mouth in dilapidated New York. A simple story of survival – penned and helmed with cool effortlessness and keen sense of pacing by the father of the cult martial arts flick Enter the Dragon – commands the viewer’s attention even in its most prosaic portions turned into stylish scenes by virtue of Gerald Hirschfeld’s strikingly grungy 35mm cinematography. However, what makes The Ultimate Warrior stand out from similar offerings, as it anticipates Hill’s The Warriors and Miller’s Mad Max, is Gil Mellé’s brilliant experimental jazz score coming into eargasmic prominence whenever the tension rises, particularly during the film’s final and most exciting third set in the underground tunnels.

8. Ornamento e Crime / Ornament and Crime (Rodrigo Areias, 2015)


Boasting a hyper-style to die for, and oozing with dense, smoke-filled atmosphere, Ornament and Crime plays (amazingly well!) like an extended riff on or rather a passionate love letter to film-noir aesthetics, with its trench-coated (anti)hero, shifty femme fatales, and pretty much everyone and everything else deeply planted in the blackest of shadows. Perfectly complemented by moodily experimental music from Paulo Furtado and Rita Redshoes, Jorge Quintela’s stunning cinematography grabs the viewer’s attention right from the get go – a symmetrical medium shot of the protagonist’s back against the distant city lights – and never loosens its grip. His camera rarely moves, yet it plunges you with great force into each of meticulously composed tableaux vivants, as the deliberately stilted narrative blends Godardian irreverence, de Oliveira-esque coldness, and hints of Lynchian absurd. It goes without saying that what Areias created here is an acquired taste – a cinematic treat for the open-minded.

9. Earwig (Lucile Hadzihalilovic, 2021)

Across the waveless sea of ambiguity,
Shady ciphers are floating aimlessly...

The latest offering from Lucile Hadzihalilovic (Innocence, Evolution) is an aesthetically triumphant mystery (with a capital M), daring, stubborn and uncompromising in its following of the dream / nightmare / fairy tale logic, as well as in its deliberate pace, at the expense of its immersiveness. A weird premise of a meek and reticent girl whose dentures are made of her own frozen saliva (!), and a bizarre subplot which involves her ever-frowning guardian, a waitress with a disfigured face, and a Mephistophelian figure that binds them through distorted time, open portal to a dreary, eerily surreal world where silence shrouds all meanings and answers (to some sinister, undefined conspiracy) in an opaque veil. Its aftertaste is one of utter bewilderment and inexplicably sweet fear that reality may dissolve any minute...

10. Baagh / Tiger (Sourish Dey, 2022)


Something is rotten in the state of India whose national animal – represented by a folk actor who performs as a tiger – is subjected to a Kafkaesque process conducted by sinister Mr. Jaiswal aka the Goat in the formally bold sophomore feature from Sourish Dey. Filtered through the prism of the Beckettian absurd, the fractured, off-kilter narrative is built on the vicious loops of oppression, seeing a bunch of bizarre characters – all turned into symbols and ciphers – desperately trying to define or at least express themselves reflecting upon the figure of Tiger. They are pulled together through a series of visually alluring vignettes, raging from theatrical (feat. the King with his Assistant, and evoking Majewski’s Gospel According to Harry with its outdoor set design) to Godardian to Avikunthak-like, all captured in crisp B&W, and occasionally overlaid by SMPTE color bars, as if indicating those poor souls are being tested by both the (simulacrum of) society, and some higher power(s). Dey elicits solid performances from his cast, particularly from Biswanath Basu (as Tiger) whose sweaty, tortured face easily burns into one’s memory.

11. Day Shift (J.J. Perry, 2022)


Stunt-master J.J. Perry delivers plenty of (summer) fun in his self-consciously goofy directorial debut that follows a Streets of Fire-like rule of cool, replacing leather jackets with aloha shirts, and biker gangs with vampire cartels. A highly energized blend of buddy comedy, martial arts, car chases and gory mayhem that sees a great number of contortionist bloodsuckers ruthlessly shot, dismembered and/or decapitated, Day Shift boasts some gripping set pieces and great chemistry between the cast members fronted by Jamie Foxx and Dave Franco. It made me wish it were longer, with its ‘mythology’ surrounding the baddies deepened.

12. Delta of Venus (Zalman King, 1995)


Audie England and Costas Mandylor engage in a ‘seductive pouting’ competition throughout Zalman King’s sultry pre-WWII melodrama which blends softcore eroticism, saucily saccharine poetry and the atmosphere of portending doom to surprisingly solid effect. As it touches upon the themes of communism, fascism and same-sex relationships at the dawn of chaos, Delta of Venus provides the viewer with handsome visuals whose allure doesn’t depend solely on the actors’ pulchritude. Cinematographer Eagle Egilsson does a commanding job in his first feature film, with George S. Clinton’s subtly sentimental score enveloping the autumnal imagery in a soft aural veil.

Aug 26, 2022

A Selection of Recent Artworks (XV)

It's been a while since I posted on the blog, so here are the latest 13 pieces of my voluminous, recently revived Bianco/Nero series of digital collages which blend various influences, ranging from mythology to Brutalism to cyberpunk, into a whole new, mysterious universe of electric dreams and alchemical visions.

Il Triangolo Divino / Божански троугао / The Divine Triangle

Voci Morte / Мртви гласови / Dead Voices

Ritorno all'Innocenza / Повратак невиности / Return to Innocence

Bellezza e Malinconia / Лепота и меланхолија / Beauty and Melancholy

Il Gabinetto di un Alchimista / Кабинет једног алхемичара / The Cabinet of an Alchemist

La Nostra Casa nel Mezzo del Sogno / Наша кућа усред Сна / Our House in the Middle of the Dream


L'Arte dell'Osservazione / Уметност посматрања / The Art of Observation


L'Estrazione dell'Essenza / Екстракција суштине / The Extraction of Essence


Fragilità / Крхкост / Fragility


La Protettrice / Заштитница / The Protectress


Apri il Tuo Ombrello / Отвори свој кишобран / Open Your Umbrella


Il Libro dei Simboli / Књига симбола / The Book of Symbols

La Vita di un'Immagine / Живот једне слике / The Life of an Image

Jul 31, 2022

Best Premiere Viewings of July 2K22

1. Neptune Frost (Anisia Uzeyman & Saul Williams, 2021)


Cinema is not dead – it is alive and rejuvenated in the first collaborative effort of Anisia Uzeyman and Saul Williams. A strong contender for the coolest film of the year, Neptune Frost is a strong, marvelous piece of Afrofuturism, bold in its anti-establishment attitude, thematic richness and heightened lyricism. Anchored in creative visuals bursting with colors, and quirky, oft-cryptic dialogue that hacks your subconsciousness, this off-kilter sci-fi musical possesses the qualities of a shamanistic ritual and appears as if it belongs to another dimension, partly due to the electrifying fusion of ethereal trip-hop and rebellious tribal music. Its narrative – about the union between escaped coltan miners and techno-spiritual resistance movement – flows like a glitchy dream which strives to invoke primordial African spirit.

2. The Timekeepers of Eternity (Aristotelis Maragkos, 2021)


An experimental re-imagination (and significant condensation!) of 1995 TV mini-series The Langoliers, The Timekeepers of Eternity utilizes laborious collage / stop-motion animation of previously scanned and printed frames to mesmerizing effect. This ‘found footage’ technique – also wonderfully exemplified by artist Anna Malina – does wonders in deepening the mystery and increasing tension by way of meta-trickery, simultaneously reflecting the antagonist Mr Toomey’s (memorable Bronson Pinchot) obsession with paper strips, and his mental breakdown that becomes central to the plot. As the imagery quivers and wrinkles, and gets perforated to reveal hidden layers in a tactile B&W reality, Pinchot’s terrific scenery-chewing or rather, scenery-tearing superbly complements the film’s materiality. Another advantage of this recontextualization – more imaginative than the original work – is the replacement of awfully outdated CGI creatures with retro, yet timeless practical effects which emphasize the power of something as simple as paper.

3. Nippon no akuryo / Evil Spirits of Japan (Kazuo Kuroki, 1970)


A simple, yet heavily fragmented or rather, obscured story of switched identities sees strangely charismatic Kei Satō dandily smirking in a dual role of yakuza and detective, as Kazuo Kuroki employs virtually every trick from the film grammar book, delivering a visually stimulating and formally playful piece of New Wave cinema. Interspersed by the 4th-wall-breaking, at times politically charged musical interludes performed by singer-songwriter Nobuyasu Okabayashi, Evil Spirits of Japan provides a somewhat subversive blend of crime drama and pinku eiga, defying description and amplifying your taste for filmic weirdness.

4. Serpentário / Serpentarius (Carlos Conceição, 2019)


Preceded by a series of provocative (queer) shorts, such as Carne (The Flesh, 2010), Boa Noite Cinderela (Goodnight, Cinderella, 2014) and Coelho Mau (Bad Bunny, 2017), Serpentarius comes across as an (attractive) anomaly in the director’s career. A meditative autobiographical essay that crosses the genre-boundaries with great ease, Carlos Conceição’s feature-length debut introduces the viewer to some stunning locations of Angola and Namibia, turning them into the (imposing) characters in their own right. A simple story of a young man searching for the ghost of his mother (and a parrot she left behind for him) in Africa becomes a post-apocalyptic tone poem, in equal measures mesmerizing and deeply melancholic. Guiding us through desolate landscapes – reminders of nature’s beauty and cruelty, as well as through the protagonist’s mind are poetic voice-over musings on the wide variety of topics including colonialism, human condition, the prospects of future, and reconciliation with death. Accompanied by eclectic score which fuses everything from tribal drums to psychedelic electronica to solemn classical tunes to ambient noises (or rather silences), the softly spoken words bring forth a radiant aural cocoon in which the breathtaking (and predominantly analog?) images are gently layered.

5. Cynga (Leszek Wosiewicz, 1991)


Caught on the Polish-Ukranian border and suspected of espionage by NKVD, a young Varsovian, Andrzej (the bold, magnificent debut for Tomasz Lysiak) ends up in a Siberian camp where he spends most of the war as an inmate of a makeshift psychiatric hospital. In a dense, claustrophobic, inescapable atmosphere of totalitarian violence, both mental and physical, his descent into madness and slow journey back to sanity are starkly depicted as a grotesque, yet deeply immersive nightmare pierced by black humor and ‘alleviated’ by sparse moments of oneiric beauty one of which is a loving homage to the levitating scene from Tarkovsky’s Mirror. Assisting Leszek Wosiewicz in bringing the adapted screenplay to (disturbing, yet fascinating) life are Krzysztof Ptak’s attention-grabbing cinematography, and Henryk Kuźniak’s whimsically melancholic score, as well as sequences composed of archival footage.

You can watch the film (with English subtitles) HERE.

6. Licem u lice / Face to Face (Branko Bauer, 1963)


Some animals have always been more equal than others, but there was a time when hard-working critters could raise their voices together against a high-handed beast, with the prospects of optimism guiding them on the way. Branko Bauer’s political drama points at many irregularities of self-governing socialism, caused by both human weaknesses and disparity between the theory and practice, all the while being grounded in extraordinary performances and nuanced characterization of the construction company employees stuck at a seemingly endless council meeting. Cinematographer Branko Blažina makes the most out of a very limited setting, imbuing the proceedings with noirish vibes intensified by internal monologues and Branimir Sakač’s unobtrusive score. Often compared to Sidney Lumet’s 12 Angry Men, Face to Face is an intriguing predecessor to the Yugoslav Black Wave.

7. Le roi danse / The King Is Dancing (Gérard Corbiau, 2000)


An (in)toxic(ating) ‘historical fairy tale’ which focuses on Louis XIV’s art patronage, The King Is Dancing boasts decadently beautiful set & costume designs, outstanding performances, zestful score and excellent cinematography which shines brightest in the symmetrically composed shots of dancing and theater scenes. Emphasizing the baroque extravagance of the period, it places the (haughty) aristocracy somewhere between admiration and condemnation, impressively peacocking with its memorably lavish style.

8. Flux Gourmet (Peter Strickland, 2022)


Directing as if high on a hybrid concentrate of Eurotrash, Giallo and Greek Weird Wave, Peter Strickland delivers a wry, deliberately silly dark/deadpan comedy grounded in superb performances from an entire cast – led by the director’s muse Fatma Mohamed – portraying highly eccentric, skillfully caricatured characters. Told from the perspective of a funny, slightly incompetent little man suffering gastrointestinal issues, this self-ironic and self-referential satire of performance art laces fart jokes with subtlety and dresses scatological provocation with smooth style. Entirely set in a villa posing as a place of residence for a three-member band of ‘sonic caterers’, Flux Gourmet takes the most of the setting limitations and provides some memorable imagery, particularly during the dreamily erotic ‘audience tribute’ sequences, accompanied by some strong aural stimuli marked by the author’s sound fetishism.

9. Bubble (Tetsurō Araki, 2022)


Mind-blowing, gravity-defying parkour action meets a bold re-imagination of The Little Mermaid in a post-apocalyptic fantasy which boasts jaw-droppingly beautiful animation, as it fizzes with youthful energy and poppy tunes. Although its story and characters rarely burst the generic bubble, so to say, there’s a warm emotional core to be found underneath the glossy, brightly colored surface, and it is embodied in the quirky, non-human, yet most humane heroine, Uta (literally, Song).

10. Do widzenia, do jutra... / Good Bye, Till Tomorrow (Janusz Morgenstern, 1960)


Janusz Morgenstern’s debut is a lovely, New Wave-ish, if a a bit cliché story of fleeting love wonderfully shot in stark B&W and elevated by cool jazz score, some delightful Gdańsk locations and a protagonist’s experimental theater background. Leads Teresa Tuszynska (absolutely magnetic!) and Zbigniew Cybulski (of Ashes and Diamonds fame) have sweet chemistry, so the whimsical romance between their characters sparkles like stars in the sultry summer night. A faintly dreamy quality of the film can be attributed to the unreliable narrator.

You can watch the film (with English subtitles) HERE.

11. Bunker palace hôtel (Enki Bilal, 1989)


Starring red-and-short-haired Carole Bouquet of That Obscure Object of Desire fame, and recently deceased Jean-Louis Trintignant (completely bald, playing mysterious and ominous Mr. Holm), Enki Bilal’s directorial debut eschews both story and characterization in favor of dense atmosphere, hyper-stylized visuals and sheer quirkiness that involves an imaginary language. Filmed in Belgrade, it features a bunch of then Yugoslavian actors, from Mira Furlan to Dragomir Felba, in supporting roles of big shots hiding from acid rain and a burgeoning revolution, in the titular Bunker Palace Hotel. This place – appearing as a microcosm of a country that would soon fall apart – is serviced by malfunctioning androids allowing some slight comic relief in a bleak dystopian setting clearly inspired by imposing Brutalist aesthetics of the socialist era. And the minimized action or rather stasis that outlines the spy thriller-like proceedings creates ever-increasing tension eventually manifesting in a physical space, through the crumbling walls, and black liquid flowing out of the faucets. The accelerated decay of the underground edifice also reflects the mental and emotional states of the (unsympathetic) group trapped in their own creation. 

12. Beyond Skyline (Liam O’Donnell, 2017)


A surprisingly good direct sequel to rather clunky Skyline (2010), Beyond Skyline is a solid, B-movie genre-mashup that borrows elements from various flicks – Cloverfield, War of the Worlds, Children of Men, Independence Day, Predator, Alien and even Matrix – and successfully blends them into a fun and exciting little romp that features everything from brain-ripping to martial arts action during which one can only admire the speed at which Iko Uwais (of The Raid fame) delivers punches to crooked-legged invaders from space. Another reason for the film’s superiority over its predecessor is a more involving cast of characters led by a cool and charismatic, if archetypal hero, Mark, portrayed by Frank Grillo, as well as a welcome change of scenery from Los Angeles to Indonesia by virtue of ‘alien airlines’ – an impressively designed spaceship where gray matter is cropped and fast-growing, partly alien babies are born. Yes, there’s a lot of CGI involved, just like in many summer blockbusters, but it is almost as eye-pleasing as those jungles surrounding gorgeous Prambanan Temple in Yogyakarta, so the audience can easily surrender to their suspension of disbelief, and if needed, give it a little boost.

13. Awans / Promotion (Janusz Zaorski, 1975)


Tradition and superstition clash with modernization and academicism in an anti-capitalist satire directed with verve and good sense of humor targeted at both the reactionary forces and the prophets of progress. Zaorski elicits great performances from his cast and creates some authentic characters whom the non-Slav viewers may find quite exotic. A lighthearted, yet intriguing film.

You can watch the film (with English subtitles) HERE.

Jul 18, 2022

Straight 8 Films

What happens when you’re a cinephile / analog film festival curator, and you come across a Vimeo channel hosting in-camera-edited shorts shot on a single Super 8 cartridge? Well, you end up watching 30 3-minute films, and admiring the diversity and the power of DIY creativity at display. Often evoking the spirit of the past, available on the Straight 8 menu are absurd comedies, stop-motion animations, introspective, diary-like tone poems, queer and ecologically conscious fantasies, parodies of Street Fighter and video nasty trailers, a witchy homage to silent cinema, an alien-in-human-body’s meditation on the rigidity of human architecture, and even a sort of a mockumentary about one girl’s correspondence with Vincent Gallo. Hereafter, you’ll find the stills from 13 of my favorites produced between 2007 and 2022, and accompanied by video links (just click on the titles). Enjoy!

I will also take the opportunity to invite celluloid-lovin' filmmakers to submit their latest creations to the 4th edition of Kinoskop - international festival of analog experimental cinema. 

The Surrealist Brothel (Julia Jason, 2007)

Rouge Amour (Kezia Barnett, 2011)

Biskremosis (Marc Holtbecker, Robert Neumann, Annette Schneider, Caro Stoeckermann & Andre Wlodrski, 2012)

Who Lives There at Night (Drum, 2016)

Into the Mist (Benjamin Scrimgeour and Orban Wallace, 2017)

No One Cries Forever (Iconoclast, 2017)

Touch (Poppy Baines, 2017)


Hyper Galaxy Starship Team (The Pool Collective, 2018)

Satan’s Bite (Dean Puckett, 2018)

Coral (Blur & 24/7, 2020)

Face Me (Yolafilmo, 2020)

Ag:Au (Alex Cantouris, 2021)

Inside (Alex Shipman & Joseph Herridge Nowell, 2021)