Love hip hop, hate homophobia? Me too. I also hate sexism and a macho attitude and so do Stitch & Tchuani, the makers of Berries, an unsual hip hop party that was born almost a year ago. When I went to my first Berries night and danced like no one was watching, I looked around and was almost puzzled by the lack of gender stereotypes I faced at most other hip hop events I had gone to. Instead of gangster and bitch clichees I saw guys making out with each other and ladies rocking the turntables and dance floors. Also, the music was way beyond the ususal charts’ best of. Hanno Stecher and Dominik Djialeu compare their pearl diving (in the sea of hip hop music that is) to picking berries. Hence the name. I sat down with the duo and asked them about their concept and what to expect at OHM this Friday.
It’s the very first scene of the film and it already sets the tone for what is to follow: Clara is sitting on the couch watching something that is hidden from our view. We start hearing regular slapping noises and when the camera cuts to a wider shot, we see a middle-aged man with his pants down masturbating in front of the young woman whose face is motionless and detached. Our perspective is that of Lupu, a young man who is watching from a distance and whose mysterious tale of lust, desire and death is told in this spellbinding new film from Romania.
Somewhere up in the mountains in the Greek region of Thessalía there is a group of ancient monasteries built on sandstone formations, which appear to be the remains of a massive continental drift. These settlements are called metéora, which means “hanging in the air” or “floating” to emphasize their closeness to God and their general otherworldliness. A new film by director Spiros Stathoulopoulos is set in two of these monasteries and tells the simple story of two people falling in love, using images of breath-taking beauty and beautiful unreality.
„Screw you world, we don’t need you, we’ll just make art!“ Bosaina is in tears after she has performed the song „Porn Police“ with her band Wetrobots at a nightclub in Cairo. She is wearing a leopard leotard and ironically sang about „satanic homosexuals“ and the sexual freedom of women when the crowd starting chanting „Erhal, erhal, erhal!“ which means „Go away!“ Bosaina, like the four other main protagonists of Art War, is trying to express herself creatively in Egypt during the difficult times that followed the Arab Spring. Her struggle and the verbal and physical fights of young Egyptian artists build the centre of a fast-paced and jazzy documentary that has been in Berlin cinemas for a week.
The credits start rolling while Kim Taylor is still singing, holding a guitar in her arms, and expressing all her melancholy through a song that hasn’t left me since I first heard it: Days Like This. You look up at the sky above you/ Days like this/ You think about the ones that love you/All I wanna do is live my life honestly/ I just want to wake up and see your face next to me/ Every regret I have I will go set free / It will be good for me. I sighed, a little tear rolled down my face and later I came back for a second screening just to see and hear that song again.