Reminiscent of Evelyn Lambart and Norman McLaren’s groundbreaking animations, Rhayne Vermette’s buzzing miniature A Black Screen Too is a burst of color and movement undercut by darkness. We are invited to enter a translucent cinematic realm which swings between the mythical and the material. Constructed as a temporal collage, it gives us space to reflect on the ways our eyes see as well as the ways our minds process abstraction.

Day after day, bars of sunset pass the kitchen. Lamps carry on when the sky gets dark. The frame finds its balance. Life in work and work in life.

A boy tries to get in touch with his culture through a specific fish and to learn more about its history, but he is faced with the fact that he does not master his mother tongue. The film unfolds with tenderness, capturing the weight of what’s lost and the longing to bridge a gap that isn’t just about language but about belonging. Hauntingly beautiful images and a carefully layered soundscape guide the film as it traces the journey of the boy and of the fish: from the water to the hands of fishermen, into freezers and pans, touched by many along the way, and ultimately finding its way into the boy’s arms.

The people are in turmoil. The ground from which their enchanted garden grows is trembling. Between bushes and trees, flowerbeds and fountains, everyone has independently lost their way. Their eyes search for paths, their hands try to remember. Sometimes they spot something. Sometimes they listen. They catch a whisper, a faint promise. They follow the petals flowing further downstream.

In Mother’s Letter, Sylvia Schedelbauer evokes her mother’s perspective. Drawing from her family archive, the film addresses the complexities of the mother-daughter relationship, often defined by unspoken tensions and unresolved histories. These dynamics are further explored within the context of mixed heritage between Japan and Germany, where differing life experiences shape their connection. These complexities unfold through a delicate interplay of fragmented images, archival material, and evocative soundscapes. Schedelbauer’s distinct formal approach, a meticulous choreography of light, texture, and rhythm, invites the viewer into the layered emotional terrain of their relationship, which, like personal history and cultural identity, is shaped by time and memory.