Matej Sotník

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.

Seriál přibližuje herní průmysl na již zavedené, ale přesto jedinečné slovenské a české scéně. Ukazuje, jak se videohry dostaly do bývalého Československa a zpět do okolního světa. Každý díl se věnuje jednomu tématu, přeskakuje v čase tam a zpátky a vytváří dialog mezi různými generacemi - herními veterány, kteří v ponurých 80. letech tvořili hry od nuly jako o život, a současnými talenty, kteří přinášejí originální nápady na přeplněnou nezávislou scénu.

Od herních veteránů, jako jsou Tibor a Zajo z Fatbot Games, kteří začínali ještě jako generace bez jistot a po letech zkušeností ve vznikajících místních studiích se rozhodli být strůjci svého osudu. Zpět v bodě nejistoty, spoléhajíce se s minimálními prostředky neklidně na vlastní odhodlání a úsudek, nyní vyvíjejí po dvou dílech stylové retro sci-fi Vaporum svou třetí hru.

Na druhé straně jsou tu mladí tvůrci, jako je 3D výtvarník Šimon, pro kterého byly hry vždycky samozřejmostí a jeho talent a studium v zahraničí ho lákají, aby si troufl na vyšší cíle. Nebo zcela kutilští autoři, jako jsou grafické a herní designérky Bára a Tereza ze studia Circus Atos, které herní médium využívají jako prostor pro dětské publikum a k rozšíření možností lokálního uměleckého vyjádření.

Seznamte se také s Michalem a Marošem, dynamickou dvojicí teoretiků a historiků z Trnavy a Slovenského muzea designu. Nesbírají jen artefakty, ale vytvářejí vyprávění, které prostřednictvím osobních příběhů definuje širší společenské vazby, utváří budoucnost herního poznání tím, že podporují vztahy a připravují nás na stále se vyvíjející technologické prostředí.

Představíme vám řadu příběhů, které osvětlí jinak nepřekonatelné množství informací a v každém díle vás provedou různými směry. Představte si to jako vyprávění rozdělené do herních úrovní, z nichž každá má svůj jedinečný cíl, styl a pravidla postupu.

Dokumentární film Za jak dlouho vymřeme? vypráví příběhy lidské jinakosti na minoritním příkladu zrzavých lidí. Proč se říká, že do sta let vymřou? Juliana, „ta jediná zrzavá v rodině” se pozastavuje nad vlastní jinakostí ve vztahu k zrzavým a druhým. V roli vypravěčky filmu oslovuje nejen zrzavé, se kterými kolektivně pátrá po mýtech a stereotypech, které stvořili zrzavého člověka,
ale také ty zdánlivě druhé. Náhle se zdá, že je mohou aplikovat na jakoukoli menšinu. Juliana se ptá, co společnost s jinakostí dělá a generuje a jestli v této dystopické naději mohou zrzaví nastavit zrcadlo společnosti.

Osobní film, který zkoumá nejen jejich vymření, ale i globální vymírání všech druhů. Jakoby zrzaví ztělesňovali průkopníky moderního vymírání ve spojitosti s nárůstem lidské populace a rostoucími ekologickými otázkami. K čemu se ale nakonec v době
nárůstu xenofobie a konspirační teorie přiklonit? Jak si udržet vnitřní kontrolu nad světem, u nějž hrozí, že se nám vymkne z rukou? Nejsme všichni v důsledku stejní? Nebo jsme jiní, bezduší?

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.

"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.

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.