The Peruvian civil war lasted two decades (1980-2000) and cost the lives of 69,000 people, 70 percent of whom belonged to the Quechua-speaking rural population. Terrible crimes were committed not only by the left-wing rebel groups, but also by the military and the police. In addition to its final report, Peru’s Reconciliation Commission compiled an archive of 1500 photographs, on which the film draws. Using selected photographs the director develops a poetic narrative, which is augmented by statements from the forensic specialist José Pablo Baraybar. This is a film about the power of images waiting to be viewed, but which later continue to resurface, as if they were part of one’s own memory.
With calm concentration the camera tracks through modest homes in a remote village in rural Poland. People are watching TV, listening to music, playing computer games. The inhabitants don’t seem bothered, are not addressed directly. Now and then the camera closes in on their faces. Otherwise it makes the transition to the next home through a close-up of a radio or a TV screen. Then our gaze can continue to roam. Like voyeuristic, weightless divers we comb through the moving tableau, and are permitted to look into living spaces that normally lie beyond our perceptional horizon.
A chronology of isolation: in the autumn of 2011 Banja Koviljača had a population that included 1500 illegal immigrants, who were very conspicuous in the town. They used the small spa on the border with Bosnia and Herzegovina in western Serbia as an interim stopover on their way into the EU. But the town’s inhabitants, who had previously made good money renting out accommodation to the asylum-seekers, said “no” to the immigrants. In the spring of 2012, on the initiative of the citizens of Banja Koviljača, units of special police ensured that the town was freed of immigrants. In September the inhabitants celebrated their royal carnival amongst themselves. We see a sad performance with dancers dressed as cockerels: filmed as a farce about the spa culture, now saved from foreign influence. Then a melancholy journey through a wall of fog that isolates the town from the outside world.
“In Tivim there’s a street, in the street a house, in the house a staircase” ... The voice of a little girl leads us into the rich and colourful images of this animated documentary, created together with HIV-infected children in a hospital in Tivim (Goa, India). The drawings and voices are from the boys and girls themselves. They talk about their time in the hospital, their everyday lives and their dreams – with the fantastic logic of children.