Carine Chichkowsky

In an unexplored vault in Belgrade, the capital of the former Yugoslavia, lies a collection of films known as “the Labudović Reels.” On them are images of African and Asian liberation movements and revolutionary leaders that defined the era of the 1960s. How is it that the archive of these revolutions lies on another continent, forgotten in a film archive? The answer to this question takes us into the story behind the images, on an intimate voyage with the man who filmed them. As the cameraman of Yugoslav president Tito, Stevan Labudović captured an era of politics, personality and promise, filming the birth of the Non-Aligned Movement. Sent on missions by the President to film liberation wars, he would play a key role in the information battles that defined the era of decolonization. Together with Ciné-Guerillas, this film diptych examines the legacy of these extraordinary archives, seeking to project their political vision forward.

An archival road trip with Stevan Labudović, cameraman to Yugoslav President Tito and cinematic eye of the Algerian revolution, investigating the role of cinema in the liberation struggles of the Third World and reconstructing the birth of the Non-Aligned Movement.

French poet Thierry Metz killed himself in 1997. He'd moved to the country with his wife and 3 kids but after the youngest is struck dead by a car, the sensitive artist sinks into depression and alcohol, leading to time in a facility.

Every year since 2011, a unique beauty contest has been taking place in Haifa. The contestants are female survivors of the Holocaust. In the midst of this flashy spectacle, their personal traumas remain as deep as ever. There are many things about this contest that are controversial: it is organized by the right Zionist organization, the International Christian Embassy Jerusalem, and the dubious contest itself rises the public indignation of various speakers, including other survivors.

The Idomeni refugee camp housed people from the Middle East who were trying to cross the border into Europe. When the Greek police closed the camp, the refugees resisted and blocked a railway line used to deliver goods. Maria Kourkouta’s minimalist documentary not only observes these events but also presents carefully modeled static images that open up the space within and without the frame of view, and in the closing black-and-white sequence offers a poetic commentary. The result is a bleak portrait of a place where endless lines of refugees try to preserve the final remnants of their individual freedoms. “This film is a call to welcome the refugees that cross the European borders, as well as the ghosts that return with them.”