Dedicado a una de las más famosas plazas de Berlín, éste es un trabajo sobre la memoria de un lugar fuertemente connotado por su inmediato pasado, por una historia cargada de hechos trágicos, poblada de fantasmas. Como en la antigua Universidad Laboral, la ideología fascista está presente, aunque aquí sea por la ausencia de sus huellas. También por la dialéctica de bloques que operó con rotundidad en este mismo espacio. Sin embargo, aunque todo eso esté ahí, de manera espectral, en lo que la artista centra principalmente su atención es en la reconstrucción de esta plaza en los años 90 como símbolo del nuevo orden político de la Alemania actual. Ahí se han construido edificios como monumentos al capitalismo corporativo que también construye a su manera muros y fronteras de exclusión.

70年代末，生长于新中国海岛边疆的方长宁焦急等待入伍的信息，但他因父亲有敌特嫌疑政审遇到些许问题。其好友袁学武、唐棠等人出身军人家庭。长辈们认定长宁一家值得信任，在多方斡旋努力下，最终让方长宁成功入伍。在边境线的战火之中，长宁遇到了影响他一生的战斗英雄，老连长荆河。在荆河的影响下，长宁发誓当一个好兵，牢牢的守卫在边疆的战线上。在时代的浪潮之中，长宁经历了无数次的边境事件，从时有发生的牛羊越境到复杂纠葛的争议地区冲突，每一次事件都让长宁愈发坚定信念，我站的地方是中国，面对边界，我愿化作界碑寸步不退。

70年代末，生长于新中国海岛边疆的方长宁焦急等待入伍的信息，但他因父亲有敌特嫌疑政审遇到些许问题。其好友袁学武、唐棠等人出身军人家庭。长辈们认定长宁一家值得信任，在多方斡旋努力下，最终让方长宁成功入伍。在边境线的战火之中，长宁遇到了影响他一生的战斗英雄，老连长荆河。在荆河的影响下，长宁发誓当一个好兵，牢牢的守卫在边疆的战线上。在时代的浪潮之中，长宁经历了无数次的边境事件，从时有发生的牛羊越境到复杂纠葛的争议地区冲突，每一次事件都让长宁愈发坚定信念，我站的地方是中国，面对边界，我愿化作界碑寸步不退。

45岁的马国梁是某国家事业单位副主任，35岁的江一楠是受海外教育长大的建筑设计师，两人的世界原本风马牛不相及，却因为一个老年公寓的项目而交织在一起，见证了彼此事业与情感的巨变。马国梁接连遭遇了妻子出轨、丢官、辞职等多重打击，由国家干部变成了公司老总，又由公司老总变成了靠双手吃饭的体力工作者、甚至是遁身世外的农夫，最后在公司危亡之际挺身而出，挽救了自己与江一楠的事业。而自诩人生赢家的江一楠。在接连失去婚姻、事业和理想之后，又得知自己怀上了前夫的孩子，面临着一系列重大考验。在共历患难的过程中，两人也由水火不容、斗争与合作走到了真正心灵的相通与情感的默契，共同找到了自己人生的价值与生命中最重要的东西。

45岁的马国梁身为某国家事业单位副主任，35岁的江一楠是接受海外教育成长起来的建筑设计师，原本毫无交集的两人，因一个老年公寓项目而产生了关联，共同见证了彼此事业和情感上的巨大变化。马国梁接连遭遇妻子出轨、丢官、辞职等重重打击，身份从国家干部变为公司老总，又从公司老总沦为靠双手谋生的体力劳动者，甚至一度成为遁世的农夫，最终在公司生死存亡之际挺身而出，挽救了自己和江一楠的事业。而自认为是人生赢家的江一楠，在相继失去婚姻、事业和理想后，又得知自己怀上了前夫的孩子，面临着一连串重大考验。在共同经历患难的过程中，两人从水火不容、既有斗争又有合作，逐渐发展到心灵真正相通、情感达成默契，一同找到了自己人生的价值以及生命中最为重要的东西。同时，这也是一个关于政府小科员从机关离职后下海经商，在过程中遭遇体制、原则、人性等诸多问题，于“中国式关系”里感受欲望与人性，经历挫折与磨练，最终坚守住自身原则的故事。

导演将自己放逐在时间之外的小岛上，在森林的木屋里安家。他独自一人，唯有一块永远停在11点36分23秒的钟表陪伴着他。在这里，他从木屋的窗户观察记忆。

After the cremation of his father, Vincent and his family gather relatives in the back shop of the family butchery for a final tribute. Vincent announce to his family that he leaves for some time with his boyfriend Olivier.

I began El Valley Centro in November of 1998; I was driving through the Great Central Valley looking for places to film. I wasn’t going to start shooting for at least six months; I wanted to just look and listen – to get to know the Valley well before I would make images. But almost immediately I came across an oil well fire with flames high into the sky. I returned home for my Bolex and Nagra. Determined that landscape is a function of time, I let a full roll of 16mm film (100 feet) run through the camera. At that moment I knew I would make a portrait of The Great Central Valley using 35 two and a half minute shots. 　　As its name suggests, the Great Central Valley – El Valley Centro in Spanish – runs long and wide down the middle of California, encompassing much of that vast state’s cultivated farmland. Benning’s film explores this vast area, his camera pausing for the allotted two and a half minutes before he cuts to another location, another vista presented for our absorption. There are no ‘actors’ as such, no ‘characters’, no ‘dialogue’ as we know it, no ‘narration’ as we know it, hardly any sounds, hardly any ‘real’ action. 　　But the audience soon realises that each of these apparent ‘absences’ is, in Benning’s hands, a plus. He forces us to concentrate our eyes and ears on what he shows us, and the attentive viewer will find their efforts more than amply rewarded. As well as slowly compiling a remarkable portrait of a remarkable place, Benning thrillingly redefines the basic syntax of film-making and film-watching. The effect is staggering – as one of Caspar David Friedrich’s contemporaries commented when seeing his painting ‘Monk by the Sea’ for the first time: “it is as if one’s eyelids had been cut off.” 　　The film begins with a shot of a lake, apparently draining away into what looks like a huge plughole. It’s an ideal starting point – we’re being drawn into Benning’s world as surely as the water is being drawn into that hole, and we’re aware that our eye is specifically being directed to a certain point on the screen. But the two and a half minutes for which this shot is projected gives us ample time to explore the peripheries, and this is also part of Benning’s grand design. This is equally true of the remaining 34 shots in the sequence – he shows us places where ‘nothing’ is apparently happening, but which he reveals as stages on which a drama unfolds: the ‘subject’ of the shot may be a series of tiny orange blobs in the distance (as in the sequence showing a penitentiary), but they’re enough. We can work out the rest for ourselves. 　　Benning works at the interface of mathematics and geography: the exact position of the camera is absolutely crucial – he’s faced with an infinite number of possibilities, and the essence of El Valley Centro lies in his process of selection. Timing is equally important – there’s no environment in the world where this kind of film can’t be made, provided the right two and a half minutes are chosen. Benning’s judgement is exceptional, and he’s also aided by some providential turns of fate, trains and cars coming into our out of shot at just the right time. 　　The most spectacular moment of serendipity comes during a shot of a large ship making its progress along a river – the river is invisible, all we can see is fields. Then, coming the other way, a smaller boat appears and passes in front of the ship. For a moment we’re disoriented – how can the water run both ways at once? Then we realise it’s more a matter of how the craft are being propelled. But while this activity is taking place on the water, a car appears – the road is as invisible as the channels – and zips along and out of sight. It’s a delightful moment of accidental choreography (just like a later shot of tumbleweeds skidding across a dusty scrubland, almost alive, like the corps in a Martian ballet.) 　　Benning himself calls the ship/boat/car scene ‘such a crowd-pleaser,’ ahere’s an unexpected strain of humour in the film – most overtly in the sequence showing a champion goat-tier, repeatedly catching, tying then letting go an increasingly befuddled-looking goat with her back squarely to camera. Once he’s established certain ‘rules’, Benning is able to have fun with his choice of images – on more than one occasion he has characters going about their work in the fields, slowly advancing towards the camera, closer and closer until they seem sure to collide. At the last minute, however, they turn back, never even acknowledging Benning’s presence. This is just as well – after just a few minutes inside the Benning world-view, the viewer’s eyes effectively become Benning’s camera: and if any of the figures in the landscape did look up and catch us staring, it would be impossible not to flinch and look guiltily away. 　　But the workers-in-the-field shots connect to Benning’s serious theme: he shows the Valley as a place of toil, of man’s incursion into the natural environment and, most of all, of ownership. After the final two-and-a-half-minute ‘action’ shot there’s a final section of equal length telling us where each sequence was filmed and, in most cases, which farming conglomerate owns the land. But Benning’s careful, patient approach invests so much in each scrap of landscape that he, too, becomes a kind of ‘owner’ – as do we, watching in the cinema as the indelible images burn into our minds. 　　As Chinatown famously shows us, water and power go hand in hand in California: one of the most fascinating of El Valley Centro’s shots shows the welcoming ‘gate’ above the road entering the city of Modesto, a neon slogan-board reading ‘Water wealth contentment health.’ The phrase takes on a savage irony in this kind of exhaustive geographical-political-social context: the film starts and ends with water, water flows through so many of the frames, its moneyed manipulators sequestered in offices far away from Benning’s prying lens. Modesto also happens to be George Lucas’s home town, the place he set his masterpiece American Graffiti – perhaps in homage, Benning’s Modesto shot also includes cars at night, the retro glow of neon, the excited voices of teenagers as they drive in and out of the frame. You have to strain to hear them, of course – but this is a film in which the buzzing of a fly becomes a major movie event. This is a film whose every single shot deserves a full-length essay of its own.

2014年，巴西阿尔及利亚导演卡里姆·埃诺兹曾带着前作《未来海岸》来到柏林，并提名最佳影片。新片《中央机场》是一部关于柏林废弃机场THF（滕珀尔霍夫机场）的纪录片，讲述关于出发与到达的议题，以及那些来这里逃离日常生活的柏林人和那些终于“到达”于此的难民。

Yair Takes care of his sick mother. She develops dependence upon him while his boyfriend asks him to move in.