It takes some courage these days to come up with the plan to open up a cinema in Berlin. First there came the multiplexes, then there came the Internet and although I lost track of the number of Berlin cinemas that had to close down in the last twenty years, it’s fair to say that most small cinema owners are struggling nowadays – especially in a town where you can get everything, all the time, all at once. Wolf owner and founder Verena von Stackelberg is an activist, and this year’s theme of 48 Stunden Neukölln couldn’t be more fitting for her ambitious endeavour: courage. Last night, I took a stroll through the improvised interiors of her soon-to-be cinema in the heart of trendy Neukölln and met Verena for a little pre-opening talk.
Tag: experimental film
Like a fly in slow motion the camera moves and moves and moves, in constant search for new impressions, new images, new discoveries, new moods to capture. The camera eye takes its time, like the entire film does, and takes us, the audience, deep into an unreal world which is created through the mind and the memory of its filmmaker and cameraman Marcin Malaszczak.
A little hung over, a little cold, a little lazy and ready to watch some films tonight? I’m sure that description fits most Berliners on this gloomy holiday, and – for Christ’s sake it’s Ascension Day! – so let’s all start a heavenly journey to Moviemento and see some sexy and unholy queer films and have a little party at Südblock afterwards. Yes, it’s time for Xposed again and -come on-who wouldn’t love to discover some hot 1960s experimental films by a Swedish underground pioneer slash heroine, watch the new kinky compilation film by art-pornographer Antonio da Silva and listen to Antony and the Johnsons during the opening film?! So get your asses off the couch and start a little pilgrimage to Kottbusser Damm where the next 3 ½ days will be filled with exciting cinematic trips, programmed with love, lust and experience.
It was almost seven years ago that the work of a Berlin-based filmmaker changed the way I watched films entirely. There was a big retrospective at the Arsenal and I was extremely curious to discover someone whose films had labels like “women’s film” “art film” “queer cinema” and “independent director” attached to them. I had seen images of wild costumes, extravagant make-up, outlandish performers and fantastic imagery before I had actually seen the films they were taken from. Of all the magical hours I had spent getting sucked into this mad universe, one film had stayed with me the most. It is called Freak Orlando and its director is a true artist and can be best described as an untamed magician: Ulrike Ottinger.
A ghost haunts the scene – it’s invisible and rarely audible, hardly there but always present. He would be dead if it weren’t for the archival footage that resurrects him and frees so many emotions. It’s a ghost called love, a ghost named Simon that director Vincent Dieutre summons in one of the most extraordinary, unusual, and unorthodox love stories of the year – Jaurès.