1997, 75 min., colour, BETACAM SP, Stereo 　　The Japan Foundation, North Foundation, Pandora Co., Ltd (Japan) 　　Special thanks to Hiroko Kodjima 　　scenario: A. Sokurov 　　camera: A. Fedorov 　　sound: S. Moshkov 　　editor: L. Semenova 　　“My journey to your sorrowful country cannot finish… even here in Russia. 　　I can't part with feelings which have captured me… as if my soul had been in search of Beauty and Kindness. If not — what for have I deserved this gift, this meeting… 　　I have arrived in the twilight. The noise of the wind and my tiredness didn't let me fall asleep. 　　I was lying on the floor, there was a small lamp at my head, the bedding had been thrown over the mat. 　　I don't know why, but I began to think about the war, and the scenes of unknown life appeared before me from the past… or, perhaps, from the future; Somebody’s children… somebody's mothers… 　　The summer was warm… 　　Then the morning came, windy, cold and sunny… I examined the house cautiously. It was empty… 　　Then, I remember, I turned back, having heard a creak. 　　It seemed she had not yet noticed me… I decided to come nearer. 　　I can remember well enough, how everything became interesting: walls, utensils, wind, light, sounds — all her life. 　　We agreed that she would let me stay near her all the time All the hours and minutes that I could spend in her old house. I sat near her with her permission. And it was really necessary: I could contem­plate her to my heart's content.” 　　Alexander Sokurov (from the author's text to the film) 　　A myth about lost harmony, which is always with us, though we often cannot feel it, is further developed in this film by Alexander Sokurov. The material used here is concrete and, at first sight, quite fit for TV. The whole work is unhurried and detailed report from an old solitary house, lost in the mountains, in the village of Aska, prefecture Nara, Japan, where an old woman, whose name is Umeno Matshueshi, lives alone. But filmmaker's creative task is quite opposed to the TV information stream. It is not only because this subject, this person couldn't be of any interest for any TV crew in any country (and least of all, perhaps, in modern Japan). 　　Sokurov's camera doesn't watch this character, doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t surprise her, but extracts uninterrupted poetical image out of the trivial details of this physical reality, out of this extinct life and daily routine. The image is epic and lyrical at the same time. Refined simplicity of Japanese landscape, interior, a series of portraits are not a representation of “couleur local,” but only the sign of ideal technique of the ideal description, allowing to enter this life. The woman, who remains silent throughout the whole film, cooking and eating, kindling the fire and sewing, giving alms and combing her hair before us, recites in the final poem as a prayer: artless and sorrowful tanku about loneliness, about the constancy of losses and gainings. Sokurov shoots this unexpected stroke in his personage's portrait as a lyrical coda of his work.

1997, 75 min., colour, BETACAM SP, Stereo 　　The Japan Foundation, North Foundation, Pandora Co., Ltd (Japan) 　　Special thanks to Hiroko Kodjima 　　scenario: A. Sokurov 　　camera: A. Fedorov 　　sound: S. Moshkov 　　editor: L. Semenova 　　“My journey to your sorrowful country cannot finish… even here in Russia. 　　I can't part with feelings which have captured me… as if my soul had been in search of Beauty and Kindness. If not — what for have I deserved this gift, this meeting… 　　I have arrived in the twilight. The noise of the wind and my tiredness didn't let me fall asleep. 　　I was lying on the floor, there was a small lamp at my head, the bedding had been thrown over the mat. 　　I don't know why, but I began to think about the war, and the scenes of unknown life appeared before me from the past… or, perhaps, from the future; Somebody’s children… somebody's mothers… 　　The summer was warm… 　　Then the morning came, windy, cold and sunny… I examined the house cautiously. It was empty… 　　Then, I remember, I turned back, having heard a creak. 　　It seemed she had not yet noticed me… I decided to come nearer. 　　I can remember well enough, how everything became interesting: walls, utensils, wind, light, sounds — all her life. 　　We agreed that she would let me stay near her all the time All the hours and minutes that I could spend in her old house. I sat near her with her permission. And it was really necessary: I could contem­plate her to my heart's content.” 　　Alexander Sokurov (from the author's text to the film) 　　A myth about lost harmony, which is always with us, though we often cannot feel it, is further developed in this film by Alexander Sokurov. The material used here is concrete and, at first sight, quite fit for TV. The whole work is unhurried and detailed report from an old solitary house, lost in the mountains, in the village of Aska, prefecture Nara, Japan, where an old woman, whose name is Umeno Matshueshi, lives alone. But filmmaker's creative task is quite opposed to the TV information stream. It is not only because this subject, this person couldn't be of any interest for any TV crew in any country (and least of all, perhaps, in modern Japan). 　　Sokurov's camera doesn't watch this character, doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t surprise her, but extracts uninterrupted poetical image out of the trivial details of this physical reality, out of this extinct life and daily routine. The image is epic and lyrical at the same time. Refined simplicity of Japanese landscape, interior, a series of portraits are not a representation of “couleur local,” but only the sign of ideal technique of the ideal description, allowing to enter this life. The woman, who remains silent throughout the whole film, cooking and eating, kindling the fire and sewing, giving alms and combing her hair before us, recites in the final poem as a prayer: artless and sorrowful tanku about loneliness, about the constancy of losses and gainings. Sokurov shoots this unexpected stroke in his personage's portrait as a lyrical coda of his work.

居住在水天镇的三为中学生，都有着各自无法抹杀却又不想回忆起的过去，不知是否因为相同的原因，他们的灵魂会发生体外脱离，并以这种形式穿梭于现世与“幽世”之间。这个现实世界本没有神灵，随着“幽世”中不断发生异常，而开始吞噬现实世界。三位少年在“幽世”冒险的时候，逐渐了解到“幽世”与什么地方相连——献给持有少年心的成人们，一部永远的心灵少年谭。

故事发生在一座风景秀丽的小岛之上，古森太郎（小野贤章 配音）、中岛匡幸（福山润 配音）和大神信（保志总一朗 配音）是生活在这里的三位少年，每个人都有一段不愿意回忆的悲伤过往。 　　某日，厌倦了一成不变无聊生活的三人聚集到了一起，前往传说中的诅咒之地探险，在“现世”和“幽世”的交接处，三人目睹了十分恐怖而又充满了痛苦的景象。恐惧之中，三人匆忙逃跑，却发现灵魂竟然脱离了肉体，当他们再度找回肉身之后，一切都改变了，三人获得了自由穿梭于两个世界的特异功能。与此同时，古森太郎曾经遭遇过的绑票事件的真相重新浮出了水面。

在一片神秘的土地上，有另一个世界，那里的人类在神灵和暗灵的交战中勉强生存。一次，身为人类的瓦育被师傅指派讨伐暗灵，瓦育跟随暗灵来到仙灵村——与世无争的神灵们久居于此。在此，他遇到仙女桑当，二人日久生情，生下半人半神的布莱，没想到却引起了一场大战。瓦育和桑当在此战中失去了生命，临死前，桑当将自己的儿子布莱托付给娜迦王，布莱从此成为了娜迦王的徒弟，勤奋习武学习娜迦神剑。布莱长大后成为一个武力高强、身怀正义的剑客。与此同时，人类潘瓦王觊觎金矿，决定开采矿山，没想到他的贪婪却唤起了蜈蚣精，带给了人类巨大的灾难。好在布莱及时出现，和另一位正义之士巴拉蒂一起战胜了蜈蚣精，为人类世界带来了和平。在矿山洞穴深处，布莱找到了佩特拉娜迦三大宝物之一的“土灵珠”，此战告捷之后，布莱整装待发，踏上了寻找另外两个宝物“冥尘”和“天奥镜”之路。

一位林区农民和他的女儿，用自行车从医院运回被野象袭击致死的妻子尸体。导演比斯瓦吉特·博拉关心社会和环境议题，曾拍出在制片过程中实现零排碳的“碳平衡”电影。在这部新作中他聚焦家乡阿萨姆邦，展示了阿萨姆林区老百姓为洪灾、交通不便、野象侵扰所苦的真实日常。故事情节质朴、苦涩但不悲情，还充满各种黑色幽默。影片荣获2020年加尔各答国际电影节印度电影竞赛单元最佳导演奖。

Robert Lachmann was a German-Jewish ethnomusicologist. In the 1930s, his radio show "Oriental Music" explored the musical traditions of Palestine and included regular live performances by musicians from different ethnic and religious groups. 　　Inspired by Lachmann’s musicological studies, Palestinian artist Jumana Manna travels through Israel and the Palestinian territories of today with recordings from the programme. What do these songs sound like now when performed by Moroccan, Kurdish, or Yemenite Jews, by Samaritans, members of the urban and rural Palestinian communities, Bedouins and Coptic Christians? 　　When a true fascination for history meets the sounds of the rababa, the saz, the oud and tin cans, a cultural diversity emerges that subverts the distinction between "Arab" and "Jewish". There are no national borders here, only different kitchens where people make music together – with their guests, while cooking, while someone makes the coffee. Until the music becomes so infectious you can’t help but dance along. berlinale 2016

Robert Lachmann was a German-Jewish ethnomusicologist. In the 1930s, his radio show "Oriental Music" explored the musical traditions of Palestine and included regular live performances by musicians from different ethnic and religious groups. 　　Inspired by Lachmann’s musicological studies, Palestinian artist Jumana Manna travels through Israel and the Palestinian territories of today with recordings from the programme. What do these songs sound like now when performed by Moroccan, Kurdish, or Yemenite Jews, by Samaritans, members of the urban and rural Palestinian communities, Bedouins and Coptic Christians? 　　When a true fascination for history meets the sounds of the rababa, the saz, the oud and tin cans, a cultural diversity emerges that subverts the distinction between "Arab" and "Jewish". There are no national borders here, only different kitchens where people make music together – with their guests, while cooking, while someone makes the coffee. Until the music becomes so infectious you can’t help but dance along. berlinale 2016