World of Walls
To evoke and imagine the near future, we decided to set our documentary feature project World of Walls in the environment of extreme social divisions and escalating climate crisis. The story takes place in an unspecified country that is being destroyed by continuous environmental disasters, located in today’s South Africa, close to Pretoria - Johannesburg. The rich are living inside strictly protected luxury estates with secure infrastructure, while the rest of the world survives on scarce resources on the other side of the wall. People knew these catastrophes were coming years in advance but ignored the fact. The dystopian reality is revealed through the curious eyes of the two child protagonists. At the beginning, the climate catastrophe affects Lorraine’s and Elizabeth’s worlds only subliminally, but as the film moves forward, the severity of incidents begins to escalate and thus increases the tension and the collective concern about the safety of the children. We put these disturbing scenes in contrast with children’s games and intimate interactions with their friends and parents. The threat of “force majeure” is always present, limiting their usual daily activities and infusing the overall mood of the community with fear and anxiety. Confronted with everyday disasters, the girls are trying to learn about the causes that brought the world to the threshold of climate catastrophe. At some point, they come to understand that it is also their parents who allow the ongoing destruction of the planet, making their children’s lives unbearable.
Import Games
The series zooms on the gaming industry in an already established, but nevertheless unique Slovak and Czech scene. It shows how video games made their way to former Czechoslovakia and back to the outside world. Each episode explores one topic, jumping back and forth in time to create a dialogue between different generations - the game veterans who made games from scratch as a wonder back in the bleak 80s, and current talents bringing original ideas to the overcrowded indie scene.
From game veterans such as Tibor and Zajo from Fatbot Games, who started yet as a generation without guarantees and after years of experience in emerging local studio brands they decided to be the authors of their own fates. Back in the point of uncertainty, relying with minimal resources restlessly on their own dedication and judgment, they are now developing their third game after two installments of a stylish retro sci-fi Vaporum.
On the other hand there are young creators, such as 3D artist Šimon, for whom games have always been granted and his talent and studies abroad are tempting him to dare for higher goals. Or completely DIY authors such as graphic and game designers Bára and Tereza from Circus Atos, who are using the game medium as a space for child audience and to expand the possibilities of local artistic expression.
We also meet Michal and Maroš, a dynamic duo of theoreticians and historians from Trnava and the Slovak Museum of Design. They're not just collecting artefacts; they're crafting a narrative that defines broader societal connections through personal stories, shaping the future of gaming knowledge by fostering relationships and preparing us for the ever-evolving tech landscape.
We will present a range of stories, shedding light on an otherwise insurmountable amount of information, guiding you through different directions in each episode. Think of it like a narrative divided into game levels, each with its unique target, style, and rules of progression.
From game veterans such as Tibor and Zajo from Fatbot Games, who started yet as a generation without guarantees and after years of experience in emerging local studio brands they decided to be the authors of their own fates. Back in the point of uncertainty, relying with minimal resources restlessly on their own dedication and judgment, they are now developing their third game after two installments of a stylish retro sci-fi Vaporum.
On the other hand there are young creators, such as 3D artist Šimon, for whom games have always been granted and his talent and studies abroad are tempting him to dare for higher goals. Or completely DIY authors such as graphic and game designers Bára and Tereza from Circus Atos, who are using the game medium as a space for child audience and to expand the possibilities of local artistic expression.
We also meet Michal and Maroš, a dynamic duo of theoreticians and historians from Trnava and the Slovak Museum of Design. They're not just collecting artefacts; they're crafting a narrative that defines broader societal connections through personal stories, shaping the future of gaming knowledge by fostering relationships and preparing us for the ever-evolving tech landscape.
We will present a range of stories, shedding light on an otherwise insurmountable amount of information, guiding you through different directions in each episode. Think of it like a narrative divided into game levels, each with its unique target, style, and rules of progression.
How Long Until We Die Out?
How Long Until We Die Out? is a documentary feature that tells stories of human otherness on the minority example of red-haired people. Why do some claim gingers will die out in a hundred years? Juliana, the ‘only ginger in the family’, takes pause at her own otherness in her relationship with red-heads and others. As the film’s narrator, she speaks to red-heads, joining a collective exploration of myths and stereotypes that gave birth to the ginger, as well as those apparently other. Suddenly it seems as though they could be applied to any minority whatsoever.
This personal film examines not only the potential extinction of redheads but also the global extinction of all species. It positions redheads as pioneers of a modern extinction narrative, related to human population growth and looming ecological crisis. Yet, in an era marked by increasing xenophobia and conspiracy theories, what perspective should we adopt? How can we maintain a sense of control over a world that seems to be slipping out of our grasp? Aren’t we ultimately all the same? Or are we different—soulless?
Juliana’s personal approach is without bias. She seeks in it a chimeric understanding and an effort to identify with one’s community. She asks how we exit a vicious circle of stereotypes that surround her. Her journey is one of genuine and personal uncertainties, as she explores the mode of her own survival.
The film’s story is told through three cameras capturing different perspectives and modes: observational, reportative and poetic. The film grapples with the question of how our otherness defines us—our survival and uniqueness. Does society’s perception of red-haired people reflect broader societal anxieties and feelings of not belonging? In the end, we will all face extinction, and in a dystopian twist, it may be redheads who disappear first, in their effort to save the planet.
This personal film examines not only the potential extinction of redheads but also the global extinction of all species. It positions redheads as pioneers of a modern extinction narrative, related to human population growth and looming ecological crisis. Yet, in an era marked by increasing xenophobia and conspiracy theories, what perspective should we adopt? How can we maintain a sense of control over a world that seems to be slipping out of our grasp? Aren’t we ultimately all the same? Or are we different—soulless?
Juliana’s personal approach is without bias. She seeks in it a chimeric understanding and an effort to identify with one’s community. She asks how we exit a vicious circle of stereotypes that surround her. Her journey is one of genuine and personal uncertainties, as she explores the mode of her own survival.
The film’s story is told through three cameras capturing different perspectives and modes: observational, reportative and poetic. The film grapples with the question of how our otherness defines us—our survival and uniqueness. Does society’s perception of red-haired people reflect broader societal anxieties and feelings of not belonging? In the end, we will all face extinction, and in a dystopian twist, it may be redheads who disappear first, in their effort to save the planet.
Raid
Twelve years after a brutal police raid shattered his dream of becoming a teacher and leaving the Romani settlement on the outskirts of a small eastern Slovak town, Igor has found his calling as a mediator between the world inside and outside the settlement, helping local Roma with official matters and advice. He also supports his sister Veronika in raising her four sons, determined that his eldest nephew Martin will be the first in the family to make it out. But during the hot summer holidays, school and learning are the last things on Martin’s mind. With his brothers and friends, he escapes to the river and the cornfields, where battle games follow their own rules.
Although Igor’s case ended in his favor at the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg, the police officers remained unpunished and active in the region. When disturbing testimonies of new police brutality against Roma settlers begin to spread from a nearby village, Igor must confront not only the violent images returning to his mind but also the limits of the help one can offer while living on the margins of society.
Through the observation of children’s games and the magical dimension of recurring nightmares, the film highlights the importance of collective memory in a place where life is lived day by day, as well as the need for understanding across a deeply divided society.
Although Igor’s case ended in his favor at the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg, the police officers remained unpunished and active in the region. When disturbing testimonies of new police brutality against Roma settlers begin to spread from a nearby village, Igor must confront not only the violent images returning to his mind but also the limits of the help one can offer while living on the margins of society.
Through the observation of children’s games and the magical dimension of recurring nightmares, the film highlights the importance of collective memory in a place where life is lived day by day, as well as the need for understanding across a deeply divided society.
This House is Undamaged
"This House is Undamaged" is a documentary that explores the complex transformation of Mariupol, a city in Ukraine that was extensively destroyed during the Russian invasion in 2022. The film explores reconstruction efforts under Russian control and highlights the strategic obliteration of war marks through rapid rebuilding.
One of the film's main narrative motifs is the deconstruction of media narratives about the reconstruction of Mariupol. Through a thorough examination of various media sources - from social media posts, amateur footage and propaganda videos to official reports and advertisements - the film seeks to reveal how the image of the city's "reconstruction" is carefully constructed and manipulated. By exposing the flaws and distortions in these depictions, the documentary critically analyses how the media plays a key role in shaping public perceptions of urban transformation, both locally and internationally.
The film unfolds not around a single character, but around the city itself. Mariupol is both the protagonist and the stage, a body whose scars, ruptures, and forced transformations are traced through found footage, propaganda clips, amateur videos, and fragments of memory. Its streets and buildings, its ruins and reconstructions, speak louder than any individual voice. But the city is not only seen — it is heard. Its soundscape becomes the deeper narrative, the pulse beneath the image.
The city is read as topography — a map in flux, marked by shifting borders of control, layers of rubble and scaffolding, zones of habitation and zones of abandonment. Satellite images dissolve into shaky phone recordings; promotional clips overlap with whispered testimonies. The city becomes a palimpsest, where destruction and construction exist side by side, each erasing and overwriting the other, yet never fully succeeding.
One of the film's main narrative motifs is the deconstruction of media narratives about the reconstruction of Mariupol. Through a thorough examination of various media sources - from social media posts, amateur footage and propaganda videos to official reports and advertisements - the film seeks to reveal how the image of the city's "reconstruction" is carefully constructed and manipulated. By exposing the flaws and distortions in these depictions, the documentary critically analyses how the media plays a key role in shaping public perceptions of urban transformation, both locally and internationally.
The film unfolds not around a single character, but around the city itself. Mariupol is both the protagonist and the stage, a body whose scars, ruptures, and forced transformations are traced through found footage, propaganda clips, amateur videos, and fragments of memory. Its streets and buildings, its ruins and reconstructions, speak louder than any individual voice. But the city is not only seen — it is heard. Its soundscape becomes the deeper narrative, the pulse beneath the image.
The city is read as topography — a map in flux, marked by shifting borders of control, layers of rubble and scaffolding, zones of habitation and zones of abandonment. Satellite images dissolve into shaky phone recordings; promotional clips overlap with whispered testimonies. The city becomes a palimpsest, where destruction and construction exist side by side, each erasing and overwriting the other, yet never fully succeeding.
Metanoia
Rootlessness and dilemma — the key words that define the current generation of young Moldovans. Among them is Kristyan Panchuk, a producer, DJ, and founder of the collective Metanoia Underground, which organizes techno parties in a bunker on the outskirts of Chișinău.The film Metanoia is conceived as a character-driven portrait of a young artist facing challenges on his path toward realizing his dream of “real techno” in Moldova. After the initial success of his raves comes decline, and he is forced to close the Bunker. Frustrated and stuck, he tries to find a new venue, sponsor, or audience, but his motivation gradually fades.
Kristyan’s family background reveals both traumas and the roots of his worldview. After emigrating from Moldova, his parents divorced, each starting a new family in a different country. Emotionally, he is attached to his grandparents, especially to his grandfather, who became a father figure to him. From him he inherits nostalgia for Soviet times, patriotism, and pro-Russian attitudes. Against the backdrop of Kristyan’s search for identity and his radicalization, we witness Moldova’s crucial political transformations. The successful referendum on enshrining pro-European integration in the Moldovan constitution and the decisive victory of the pro-European party in the parliamentary elections signal a Western-oriented trajectory. Yet within the country, there remain active forces longing to reverse this course of history. Kristyan represents this group — although still politically inactive, his grandfather, pro-Russian friends, and Telegram channels slowly ignite in him a resentment toward the “degenerate West.”
In this sense, Moldova’s story mirrors that of other countries with a Soviet past — all undergoing an inner transformation, a metanoia, as they struggle to define their civilizational direction in the midst of the war in Ukraine.
Kristyan’s family background reveals both traumas and the roots of his worldview. After emigrating from Moldova, his parents divorced, each starting a new family in a different country. Emotionally, he is attached to his grandparents, especially to his grandfather, who became a father figure to him. From him he inherits nostalgia for Soviet times, patriotism, and pro-Russian attitudes. Against the backdrop of Kristyan’s search for identity and his radicalization, we witness Moldova’s crucial political transformations. The successful referendum on enshrining pro-European integration in the Moldovan constitution and the decisive victory of the pro-European party in the parliamentary elections signal a Western-oriented trajectory. Yet within the country, there remain active forces longing to reverse this course of history. Kristyan represents this group — although still politically inactive, his grandfather, pro-Russian friends, and Telegram channels slowly ignite in him a resentment toward the “degenerate West.”
In this sense, Moldova’s story mirrors that of other countries with a Soviet past — all undergoing an inner transformation, a metanoia, as they struggle to define their civilizational direction in the midst of the war in Ukraine.