A normal working day on a construction site. Thomas, a 40-year-old crane operator, receives a call from his wife asking him to pick her up from the hospital. He finds her crying.

Nadine is obsessed by a memory linked to a haunting tune she can no longer sing, until she hears someone else singing and everything falls back into place again. A melancholic observation of two young couples having difficulties trusting one another. They are full of skepticism and searching for a purpose in life.

Prompted by a seminar given by acclaimed German filmmaker Peter Nestler, Prague, March '92 combines 16mm footage shot over the course of a week in the title city with excerpts from Bohumil Hrabal's essay "The Magic Flute," which considers the 20th anniversary demonstrations in Prague to commemorate the death of Jan Palach, who immolated himself in January 1969 to protest the Soviet invasion.

Une jeune femme à la moue agacée, au visage habillé par un noir et blanc rugueux, explique au téléphone à une amie à quel point son dernier voyage ne lui a servi à rien. Persuadée qu’on ne rencontre vraiment les gens que la première fois, puisque les suivantes sont saturées de mots et de subterfuges, elle va faire jouer un disque dans un magasin et l’écoute, assise sur une chaise, à côté d’un homme dont elle semble aussi loin que d’elle-même.

Mimmi lives with her mother in an apart-ment on the edge of town. They won't be living together for much longer because Mimmi is about to take her final exams at school and will soon move out. Mimmi's mother is still young and sometimes wish-es Mimmi didn't need her so much and yet, at other times, that she needed her more, like before. But Mimmi herself doesn't say very much and it's often hard to tell what thoughts preoccupy her. She sees her girlfriend, goes out with her boyfriend; she also has the odd flash-in-the-pan relationship with other men. She is often alone - perhaps just waiting for the time to pass, or for a new life to begin. On a school trip to Paris she meets and sleeps with a young man. When she gets back to Berlin she discovers that she is pregnant. She heads for Paris again where she spends two days trying to find the father of her child. She has no money and doesn't even know where she can sleep. She begins to daydream - and gets more and more tired.

“Music” is a modern-day retelling of the Oedipus myth, about a boy who grows up with his step-parents in Greece and, at the age of 20, unwittingly kills his own father. While serving the prison sentence for his crime he falls in love and has a child with a woman who turns out to be his mother. The story picks up 20 years later in London, where the man is now living with his daughter and beginning to lose his eyesight. The filming was planned for fall 2020, but was postponed due to the pandemic. In 2021, principal photography began on August 20, and wrapped on October 5, in Berlin, Brandenburg, Uckermark, and Greece.

A film about several persons shown in different constellations talking to each other about their inner feelings, relationship problems, future plans, and so on. As the original title ("My slow life") indicates, it is a very slow film with hardly any action at all, more a sequence of still photographs than a movie - even the camera hardly ever moves. Rather, the camera looks for, and finds, beautiful views of silence and peace, thus reflecting what the persons shown are looking for. A very homogeneous, credible film, without any hectic or loud moments. A film for the late evening, with a glass of whisky in your hand

Over sixty years after the end of the Second World War, forty years after the student revolts of 1968, thirty years after the “German Autumn” of 1977, twenty years after the fall of the Berlin Wall and, in the midst of the social upheaval caused by the reforms of “Agenda 2010” as the country moves into the globalised world of the 21st century, a group of German film directors have come together to create a panoramic impression – each from their own individual point of view – of the social and political climate in today’s Federal Republic. Each of the directors involved in this episodic film has created their personal cinematic take on present-day Germany. 招蘇珊桑塔格和《赤色風暴》女恐怖分子的魂；通街都是塔利班，窮小子必然是小偷。這邊拆舊樓是忘記「德國童年」，那邊放棄歌德字體，編輯要死。《黑金殺機》湯泰華扯頭纜，13導演響應，有《快樂的謊言》的胡夫根貝嘉、《玩謝希特拉》的丹尼李維、去年焦點導演《收視大騎劫》的漢斯雲格拿，和《天堂邊緣》的法堤艾金等，劇情片外也有論文和抒情詩紀錄片另類觀察。精彩對白摘錄：每個人都可以成為恐怖分子／德國已沒有人挨餓／德國需要一記腦震盪／德國已矣，他們相信不已。角度縱橫勁抽有深度有態度，絕非只有浪漫溫馨，模仿《我愛巴黎》。

A young photographer has fallen in love with his girlfriend's sister, throwing the trio into chaos.

Amidst the impersonal hubbub of Paris' Orly Airport, strangers meet, secrets are revealed, and sudden intimacies develop in this beautifully observed mosaic of lives in transit. Loosely-linked scenes in the hall of Paris’ Orly airport. A man and a woman, both French but living abroad, meet each other by chance. He has just decided to move back to Paris and she longs to return there. A mother and her almost adult son are going to the funeral of her ex-husband, his father. A young couple is embarking on its first big trip. And a woman reads a letter from the man she has recently left. They are all waiting for their flight. The departure hall is a place of transit. People are between the here and there, between the “not yet” and the “no more”. Schanelec places four couples amid the crowds of waiting passengers; the camera observes them, often from a distance. But their conversations can be heard; the ear is closer than the eye. Intimate islands of dialogue amid hectic activity. The tremendous background noise does them no harm until the music comes and infects the whole room. Cat Power sings “Remember Me”, reinforcing the atmosphere of longing, separation and transitoriness that already lingers in the air. Later, the off-screen monologue of a dying, loving man adds to it. “Love Will Tear Us Apart” – that’s what’s written at the beginning on a record cover. A farewell film.

Theres and Kenneth are both young when they first meet whilst on holiday. They fall in love but are unable to prevent themselves from losing each other. Thirty years later, in another country, another couple: Ariane leaves her husband David because she no longer loves him. The paths they both take lead them to Kenneth and Theres.

2007 film by Angela Schanelec

The first movie of the "Berliner Schule" ("La Nouvelle Vague Allemande" Cahiers Du Cinema) that gained international recognition with it being screened in the "Un certain regard"-section of Cannes Film Festival 2004. After the very sparse white on black of the opening credits we see the back of Sophie's head. She's in a car, she speaks awkward French, the woman who drives gets out, gets her a map, of Marseille. We learn, very soon, that they are exchanging apartments, the other woman, her name, we learn later, is Zelda, will go to Berlin and Sophie will stay, for a few weeks, in Marseille. Zelda says: Guten Tag, Auf Wiedersehen, Mein Freund, der Baum, ist tot - the latter phrase being a German song by a German singer who died young. Zelda disappears, Sophie stays. Zelda very literally disappears because there won't be a trace of her when Sophie will return to Berlin. The Marseille apartment, empty, unlived in as it is, will have been a gift, something inexplicably given in a film that ends with something - almost a life - taken. Sophie, for the first third of the film, is in Marseille. She walks around, she takes pictures. She looks at the pictures, she moves without a direction, the camera is with her, sometimes distant, sometimes following her closely. Sophie is a stranger in a strange world, she sometimes seems cut off from her surroundings. We hear sounds, we see her face but the background is blurred. She does not seem unhappy, she does not seem happy. She does not talk much and she always thinks for a long time when she is asked. In the end she will be asked what it is she photographs. She will think for half a minute (or perhaps she does not think, but simply refuses to answer, to herself, to the policeman who asks) and then she says: The streets. We do not know much of her and we do not learn much of her in these minutes we spend in Marseille, walking around with her. She meets a young man from a garage, who lends her his car, she drives around, which we don't see. There is a lot we don't see - although it takes some time to realize how much. She meets the young man in a bar, they drink, a friend arrives who insults Sophie, for no reason. Sophie and Pierre, the young man, walk up in a street that is lit in brownish golden light and they sleep with each other, which we don't see (and, really, don't know). The next night they dance. One very sharp cut later Sophie is back in Berlin, she is approached by a young woman who returns a cap to her, a cap she has left in a McDonald's restaurant before she went to Marseille. There is more she has left, or rather: she has run away from. (At least this is what can - but does not have to be - inferred.) There is Ivan, a photographer she might be in love with. There is Hanna, an actress, Ivan's girl friend, their son Anton. We learn more about Ivan, we learn more about Hanna. We see Ivan taking pictures of women workers in a factory, without an explanation. We just see and watch. We watch the women from a sidewards angle, then we watch Ivan taking the pictures, then we watch the woman from Ivan's perspective. They talk, but not much. We just hear and see and watch. There is a lot we see - although it takes some time to realize how much. We are left with these images. They remain unexplained and they don't explain what we see. "Marseille" has a bewildering structure, switching from the elliptical cut (shocking, really) to the insistent gaze (frustrating first, but amazing after all). For ten minutes, at least, we watch a rehearsal. Hanna plays a minor role in a Strindberg play. The same scene is rehearsed three times. We watch the man talking to the woman in an aggressive Strindberg way and we see Hanna entering the stage. Then the camera moves to the left and we watch the woman answering to the man in an aggressive Strindberg way. This time we don't see Hanna entering the stage. When leaving she makes a mistake, she adds a word that does not belong in her line. We see her then off stage, cowering. Hanna is not happy. She is not happy with David, she suffers from unexplainable pain. We do not learn much more about her. Sophie is out of sight for quite some time. We start doubting if this is really her story we are told. Oh yes, it is, but Schanelec refuses to follow her and her story in linear fashion. Ivan's taking of pictures, Hanna's rehearsal become important, not so much as explanations for their behaviour, just as the parts of their lives Schanelec has decided to follow. Sophie then returns to Marseille and after the most daring ellipsis we see her at a police station, in a yellow dress. She sits, then she talks, then she does not talk for half a minute. She is asked what it is she photographs. The streets, she says after what seems a very long time. She cries. We see her on a sidewalk, the camera moving parallel to her. She crosses the street, the camera remains on the sidewalk, Sophie is moving away from it. Then she stops and the camera stops. She enters the German consulate. In Schanelec's (and cinematographer Reinhold Vorschneider's) films you see the most intelligent and subtle travellings imaginable - and even mor effective as they starkly contrast with a lot of very long, very static takes that just make you watch and see. "Marseille" ends with a series of takes on the beach. It is getting dark, the streetlamps are switched on. We see Sophie in her yellow dress, distant, moving, we see the sea and there is a strange kind of consolation in this image of the dress, Sophie, the sea.

After a 13-year-old student disappears without a trace for a week and suddenly reappears, his mother and teachers are confronted with existential questions that change their whole view of life.