Category: German Cinema

Peppermint Peace (Peppermint Frieden, Bundesrepublik Deutschland, 1983)

Peppermint Frieden, Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1982; Regie: Marianne S. W. Rosenbaum

This is an unconventional story film that incudes autobiographical experiences. The writer-director was a refugee at the end of World War II. Her family were ethnic Germans who had to leave Sudetenland which became part of Czechoslovakia. In the film Marianne, five years of age in 1945 (as was the writer) arrives in the village of Straubing in Lower Bavaria; about 80 miles north-east of Munich.

In the film the father, an ex-soldier, gets a job as a teacher. One of the key characters is the village priest whose sermons and sermonising have a strong effect on Marianne and her young friends. The effect is counter-productive because it fuels an interest by the young girls in sex as well as religion. The counterpoint to this is a US G.I. who is part of the local occupation forces. ‘Nicknamed ‘Mr Freedom’, (an ironic comment on US values) the G.I. has a relationship with a local girl and the children become aware of their sexual activity.

The priest’s moralising includes holding forth on the evils of the Soviet Union and what he calls the ‘Ivans’. This feeds into Marianne’s traumas of war memories. The solace provided by the actions and friendly behaviour of ‘Mr Freedom’ ends when he receives a posting to Korea; involving both US ‘freedom’ and Soviet ‘Ivans’.

The film effectively catches the attitudes and behaviour of girls at a particular point when aspects of adult behaviour impinge on their consciousness. The film, in often bizarre combinations of imagery, counterpoints the various values encountered by the children. There is kitsch air about some of these sequences.

The film uses unconventional imagery and sound, with the scenes that are mainly realist in black and white whilst what seem dream-like sequences are in colour. The camerawork is often idiosyncratic, emphasising the constructed nature even of the realism. And the editing sometimes produces clashes of disparate images.

The Retrospective e Brochure comments:

Made in 1983, during the era of rearmament debates, Marianne Rosenbaum’s alternative take on history in this Heimatfilm, with its Bavarian and star cast, can be considered a political statement.

The last phrase seems a little odd. I found the film’s political treatment somewhat contradictory. The critique of war is clear. And the ironic treatment of tropes from more conventional Heimatfilms (‘homeland’) is plain. The Heimatfilms tended to be set in areas like Bavaria, to use extensive exterior rural settings, and had relatively simplistic moral values, typically those associated in the countryside as the antitheses of the city. Whilst the realist sequences seem similar to other Heimatfilme, the dream sequences subvert this through parody and even surreal happenings.

Peppermint Frieden – Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1982; Regie: Marianne S.W. Rosenbaum

I was less sure about the treatment of the US/Soviet conflict. There is no equivalent to ‘Mr Freedom’ from the East and casting a minor star like Peter Fonda is obviously meant to give him a certain charisma.

There are telling actions as when the portrait of Hitler has to be removed by the parents. A trope that is repeated in the recent British The Aftermath (2019). The ambiguity of all these conflicting values and characters is there at the end as the film offers a mid-shop of the young Marianne. ‘Mr Freedom’ is gone as indeed is her childish innocence.

The film was screened from a good 35mm print and ran for 108 minutes. Marianne Rosenbaum has only made one other feature and a television drama and series. She clearly has talent and an interesting take on drama, I wonder if her unconventional approach has limited her opportunities.

I Often Think of Hawaii (Ich denke oft an Hawaii, Bundesrepublik Deutschland, 1978)

This was an experimental documentary that plays with style, representation and recreation. The subject is a young woman, Carmen who lives with her mother Ruth and brother Tito in a high-rise housing estate.

Her father, a Puerto Rican soldier, abandoned the family. All that is left to remind them of him is a handful of exotic postcards and his record collection of Caribbean and Hawaiian music.

The film is a documentary and includes observational film: for example Ruth leaving the tower block in the morning to go to work. We also see her and Carmen carrying out the cleaning duties involved. Then there are interviews, with Carmen, Ruth and Tito, talking direct to camera.

But these are intercut with far more oddball sequences. In these Carmen dresses up in flamboyant clothes and enacts fantasies for the camera;

I dream of a great love.

In other sequences the title is made sense as the collection of post-cards and records are presented. In the case of the records Carmen [for most] translates the lyrics, variously in English, Spanish and Portuguese, into German. The English sub-titles translate the German dialogue not the original sound tracks. Something similar happens when Carmen quotes poetry, here by Paul Éluard and another French poet.

The film mainly uses colour but some of the fantasies by Carmen are in black and white. The emphasis is on mid-shots and close-ups which generates a strongly subjective feel. The film runs for eighty-five minutes and nearly half of the film must be non-realist sequences. The film also lacks an obvious chronology which gives it a Brechtian feel. The film does have an opening and closing sequence, in both cases we see Carmen on the Berlin S-Bahn. It is as if the bulk of the film is a dream sequence.

The director Elfi Mikesch was there to introduce the film. She owns that the film was

“Inspired by the camp aesthetics of American (USA) underground films …”

This was her first film and she continued in a career that predominately worked on documentaries.

Some of the fantasy sequences have a definite kitsch sense. But there is also a sense of montage techniques in the manner of the Soviet avant-garde. Visually we have discontinuities and disruptions and aurally we have asymmetrical sound. This is really a melange of stylistic tropes.

In fact we were fortunate to see the film. It was shot of 16mm reversal stock and when the technicians at Deutsche Kinemathek came to attempt the restoration they found much of the print had decayed. But they were able to rescue the film and produced a digital restoration which we watched on a DCP.

I noted that this is very much Carmen’s world. Ruth, the mother, is mainly presented in terms of her work. The brother Tito appears several times talking to camera but I did not feel we learnt about his world. He did seem to be unsympathetic to Carmen’s point-of-view.

The setting of the film is important. The family lived in one of the towers in Berlin’s Gropiusstadt. This was a housing project designed by the modernist architect Walter Gropius. He was the founder of the famous Bauhaus School. This was a post-war housing complex designed along the lines and values of the Bauhaus. However other factors intervened. The erection of the Berlin Wall restricted the space for building which resulted in tall tower blocks. Apparently by the 1970s the complex was dominated by poor families with the resultant economic and social problems. As a background to this portrait the sense of that area was important.

I did notice one oddity in the Brochure, which suggested that Carmen’s ‘tropical world’ provided a counter-point to the ‘barren projects’;

. . . it suddenly seemed as if the conditions in these petty bourgeois living rooms could, in fact, be changed.

Everything about Ruth, her work, and her children, as indeed about the projects, suggested a working class environment. I suspect the reference to ‘petty bourgeois’ refers to the content of Carmen’s dreams of escape.

The film was also the object of a particular discussion in a seminar organised by Deutsche Kinemathek. ‘The Translation of Films’. This engaged with the

the translation of films into other languages . . .

including both the silent and sound eras. So,

director Elfi Mikesch. film restorer Julia Wallmüller, and translator Rebekah Smith will discuss the subtitles created for the 2018 digitally restored version [of this title] . . . A comparison of the new subtitles and the ones from the film’s release year demonstrate how standards and available methods have changed over the years . . . (Retrospective Brochure)

It was clear that the new subtitles offered a more accurate rendering of the German and also that they fitted into the editing of the film more effectively. Unfortunately there is no surviving material about the process of translation in 1978. But comparing clips demonstrated that the titling did not give complete rendering of the German. Rebekah and Julia made the point that modern digital methods enabled a higher degree of pinpoint accuracy in inserting these titles.

Elfi Mikesch made an interesting comment that she had felt that the 1978 subtitles made the film seem slower and longer. Unfortunately there was not an opportunity to explore this issue further. I had to leave for another screening but a friend advised me that the discussion only considered the issues around subtitles. So it seems there was no discussion of the translation from several languages into German; in that case German viewers heard not the original but a translator version; and English language viewers would be twice removed from the original lyrics of the songs and the words of the poetry.

So this is a complex issues that only in the last decade has become the subject of detailed research. The film was interesting in its own right as an example of avant-garde cinema and with its portrait of a subjective take on a particular place and people in 1970s Germany. But as a ‘text’ it offered an object for exploring the medium of cinema.

Die Bleierne Zeit (The German Sisters, Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1981)

This was another title in the Berlinale retrospective and the audience were fortunate in that the director, Margarethe von Trotta, was there to introduce her film. She first talked about the title of the film which was variously translated and changed during its international release; (there seem to be at least six variants). The German title is a quotation from a famous poem;

Trūb ists heut, es schlummern die Gäng’ und die Gassen und fast will

Mir es scheinen, es sei, als in der bleiernen Zeit

(Gloomy it is today, sleepy are the pathways and lanes and it seems as almost, we are, in the leaden times.) (Friedrich Hölderlin) (Translation Jane Buekett).

The last three words provide the title and a metaphor for the 1950s, a crucial decade for the story and the characters; and for von Trotta herself.

Von Trotta went on to recount how in 1977 she was with fellow film-makers who were working on a portmanteau film addressing in various ways the actions and the current trial of the Red Army Faction [often called the Baader-Meinhof Gang]; Germany in Autumn (Deutschland im Herbst, 1978). Von Trotta was not actually filming and she had a number of long conversations with Christina Ensslin, the sister of a member of RAF Gudrun Ensslin. This inspired her to start work on a screenplay, later this film, which studied the lives and relationships of two sisters. Von Trotta also remarked that the story was influenced by the Sophocles play Antigone, where Antigone is a rebel whilst her sister Iamene is more dutiful. However, in this story, the roles change as the narrative develops.

The younger, Marianne, has joined the ‘armed resistance’ in West Germany and disappeared into the political underground. Juliane is an editor at a feminist magazine and is judgemental of her sister’s radicalism. (Retrospective Brochure).

But the film develops far more complexity than is suggested in these bald sentences. Marianne is another brilliant and convincing performance from von Trotta’s regular collaborator Barbara Sukowa. Juliane, an equally good performance, though a more restrained character, is played by Jutta Lampe. We also meet their partners though the male characters pale alongside these powerful women. The exception is Jan, Marianne’s son by a failed marriage.

Early in the film we get a sense of the radically different lives and relationships of the sisters. There is a brief glimpse of the ‘armed resistance’ training with Palestinian fighters in North Africa. The film moves into it most intense mode when Marianne is captured and imprisoned. Juliane visits her regularly and we witness the emotional and sometimes overcharge relationship. We also see, in flashbacks, the earlier life of the two women, including a very strict religious upbringing in the 1950s. The ‘leaden’ 1950s and its silences on German history were a frequent target of attack for the New German Cinema.

It is in the latter stages that Jan becomes an important character. It is also the stage where Juliane has to confront her sister’s death and her suspicions, (widely shared at the time with regard to the deaths of RAF members) of her secret murder by the West German State.

This is an undoubted classic of the New German Cinema. It won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival. The central performances are memorable, but the film is carefully constructed as well. There is fine cinematography from Franz Rath. This covers the modern apartment and more traditional family house which contrast with the grim and stark prison interiors. And exteriors range from a wintry wood to sun-baked Africa and then to the forbidding walls of the prisons. The settings and costumes, by Georg von Kieserite and Minka Hasse respectively, are excellent. The sound is fine and at times very atmospheric. And all of this is edited into a complex tapestry between past and present by Dagmar Hirtz. The now veteran composer Nicolas Economou, (recently working with Koreeda Hirokazu) produces an effective score, at times minimal, occasionally more forceful.

The film has been restored and was screened from a DCP. It seemed from memory a reasonable transfer and it was a pleasure to see this again in a cinema after a wait of many years. And now I can see it again at the Hyde Park Picture House this coming Sunday. It is one of the films directed by Margarethe von Trotta in the Independent Cinema Office retrospective programme. This is titled ‘The Personal is Political’. This is partly accurate as von Trotta, as in other films, is concerned to bring out how personal relationships feed into political issues. But it is also true that in this film, as in most of her other films, the political both determines and limits the personal. This indeed is where the film leaves us with a stark and complex scene that speaks volumes about the sisters and the future of Juliane and Jan.

The film runs 106 minutes in colour and with English sub-titles. The latter on this digital version are reasonable but in the traditional white-on-background; so occasionally, in lighter scenes, you have to focus carefully. A small challenge to what is, for me, probably the finest film made by Margarethe von Trotta. And she has turned out a number of really fine film including Rosa Luxembourg (featuring Barbara Sukowa], shown earlier at the Picture House.

Berlin – Prenzlauer Berg (Deutschland 1990)

The actual full title is Encounters between 1st of May and 1st July of 1990 / Begegnungen Zwischen dem 1. Mai und dem 1. Juli 1990. This documentary offers a portrait of one area in that hiatus between the capitulation of the DDR and the formal reunification of Germany.

bracketed chronologically by International Workers Day and the monetary and economic unification of the two Germanys. Retrospective Brochure).

The district of Prenzlauer Berg is close to the centre of Berlin and dates from the 1920s. Its population is now about 160,000. In 1990 part of the district ran right up against the dividing wall.

We meet a rock band playing on abandoned east German border territory, Antifascist demonstrators from both sides of the Berlin Wall, and squatters trying to turn an occupied building into a cultural centre.

This is what the Brochure calls the ‘short summer of anarchy’.

In between these actions we see an hear from local residents. Seniors at a dancing session; bohemians involved in squatting along with transvestites; women workers at what was a state run textile factory; and owners/managers of a clothing store and snack bar. In the early stages of the film the sense of anarchy is powerful. Institutions appear to have stop operating. Some people carry on as before, like the dancing pensioners,; others strike a radical new note as with the squatters.

But in the latter stages as unification approaches the economic dominates. The Osmark (East German currency) is replaced by the West German mark. On July 1st suddenly people must change over their currencies, bearing in mind the exchange value. For ordinary citizens the rate was at par; but large holdings were at lower rates. The liveliness in the film is replaced by emptier streets. It is early in the day but it seems like a metaphor of the uncertainty for people.

The director Petra Tschörtner worked with cinematographer Michael Lösche and then editor Angelika Arnold to produce this tapestry of activities and people. We saw the film in its original format of of 35mm. The director commented

I wanted to document the special attitude towards life in this neighbourhood. The people of Prenzlauer Berg always tolerated greater freedom of action than others.

The local people appear to have enjoyed the licence and freedom associated with Carnival. The area itself is changing, not necessarily for the better. The final shot is of a demolished building disappearing in clouds of dust. An ambiguous symbol of the changes.

Locked Up Time (Verriegelte Zeit, Deutschland 1991)

Verriegelte Zeit; GG 1990; Regie: Sibylle Schönemann

In 1990, worker’s tore down the border post between East and West Germany at Wartha [near Eisenach in Thuringia State], built not too long before. It was here in 1985 that director Sibylle Schönemann crossed to the West under a system known as “Amnesty”, by which the West bought the freedom of convicted east German criminals. (Retrospective Brochure).

‘Criminal’ has a special sense in relation to East Germany. Sibylle, and her husband, were imprisoned after applying for exit visas and thus ‘interfering with State activities. Sibylle and her husband were imprisoned separately and released under this scheme after a year in prison. Following the breakdown of the East German state and the wall Sibylle went back and made a documentary; visiting some of the sites in which she suffered and interviewing people who were in some way involved in the process.
She starts at the border and then moves onto the prison where she was incarcerated. Later she visits the court rooms where she was tried and the DEFA studio where her behaviour ‘created’ problems that led to the sentence and prison.
She talks to people at all these sites. Some are forthcoming, many are tight lipped and do not want to speak on the issues and events. One interesting person is a young women with whom she shared a cell for a time. They conversed in one of the actual cells in the prison. One got a sense of the pressures and privations which were part of the imprisonment.

Verriegelte Zeit; GG 1990; Regie: Sibylle Schönemann

One of the key people was the head of the DEFA studio at that time, Hans Dieter Mäde. He attempts to palm responsibility off onto state officials. Then Sibylle tracks down the head of State Security. He now lives in a house in a rural setting. The local people are uncomplimentary about him. This Party secretary, after a few platitudes, is unwilling to talk. It is clear that he has survived relatively well from the collapse of the DDR.

In disquieting encounters , her subjects accept no responsibility for the injustices they imposed, and the director is faced with the painful processing of the past.

A person who is more forthcoming is Wolfgang Vogel, a lawyer involved in the process of ‘amnesty’. However, in a sign of the new Germany he declines some questions because he is planning a book on the subject.
The film is shot in black and white and the construction ,marrying location film with interviews is very effective, down to the director and the editor Gudrun Steinbrück. Both the cinematography by Thomas Plenert and sound by Ronald Gohike is good. And there is judicious use of music by Tamás Kahane. We were fortunate to watch the film in an original 35mm print in good condition. Alongside the films actually produced in the DDR before 1990 this was a revealing but also questioning documentary.

Do You Know Urban? (Kennen sie Urban?, Deutsche Demokratische Republik 1971)


The question runs through the film until the end, where is Urban (Manfred Karge)? Before that we watch as “Hoffi” Hoffman (Berndt Renné) and his friend Keube (Harald Wandel) look for the titular character or tell people about him. Several flashbacks fill in the acquaintance of “Hoffi” and Urban which started in a hospital.

Hoffi and Keube first appear walking along a beach with their suitcases. They are looking for a construction site where they believe Urban, an engineer, will be working. They do not find Urban but they do find jobs labouring on a large housing construction. Hoffi also meets Gila (Jenny Gröllmann) who is a student trainee. A relationship develops but then Gila returns to her home in Berlin.

Help by his workmates who sort out permission for Hoffi who is banned from Berlin because of an assault. The assault of an old man by Hoffi and a teenage group is shown in a flashback. They are dressed western style listening to westerns style popular music. And it is the music that sparks the argument and subsequent assault.

Arriving in Berlin Hoffi finds that Gila is pregnant. So his workmates continue their help in assuaging opposition by Gila’s parents and then finding an apartment for the young couple. There is a housing shortage in East Berlin and they convert a disused shop.

Shot largely on location, the film hews to the tradition of the ‘Berlin films’ of the 1950s and 1960s to depict a tolerant, cosmopolitan society.

a committed social worker, members of East Germany’s Socialist Unity Party also have a hand in making the prophecy expressed in the film’s working title, “even problem children can become people” come true.” (Retrospective Brochure).

Hoffi, Gila, Keube and Lenin

The male characters have interesting back stories. Urban has worked all round the world on engineering project. The countries are all in some sense socialist, I noted Algeria, Cuba and Vietnam. When we finally meet him it is on a railway station as his family wave him off to another project. Hoffi is a young tearaway but in the course of the film he acquires maturity and responsibility. Gila’s story is less developed and the flashbacks are focussed on the men. The actors present these characters convincingly and sympathetically.

This was the final film of four features directed by Ingrid Reschke; she died in the same year in a car accident, only 35 years. She was one of only a few women directors working on features. On the evidence of this film her death was a real loss for DEFA. The drama is engaging, there is recurring humour and the depiction of social life is completely convincing. The cinematography by Claus Neumann makes excellent use of the locations. Other members of the crew include several women; the story by Gisela Karua, assistant editor Marie-Luise Ullmann and editing by Barbara Simon.

The film had been digitally restored in 2018 and was screened from a DCP. The 96 minutes devoted to this story were engaging and informative in some ways of the working culture of the DDR.

Under the Pavement Lies the Strand / (Unter dem Pflaster ist der Strand, Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1975)

“Grischa (Grischa Huber) and Heinrich (Heinrich Giskes) are actors in West Berlin, who become a couple after spending a night together backstage.” {Retrospective Brochure).

The film opens with a rehearsal for a television production in the Greek tragedy mode. Grischa and Heinrich find themselves locked in together. They spend the night there but Grischa declines to have sex. But later she does visit Heinrich and they become a couple. Their relationship is up and down. Whilst Heinrich wants to have child together Grischa is wary of this. But becoming pregnant she is reunited with him. There are also a pair of Labrador, Babs and Ben, who accompany Heinrich nearly everywhere.

Whilst the relationship goes through its up and downs Grischa becomes active in the developing women’s movement and starts on a project about women’s lives, domestic violence and abortion. The fictional drama is intercut with black and white film and stills of actual events, the most important being a demonstration for abortion rights and against anti-abortion laws.

Both characters were involved in the 1968 protests; the title seems to be a play on a famous ’68 situationist slogan. Both suffer from a sense of frustration over the fading away of radical protest. Heinrich has opted for

a ‘revolution a deux’ in love

Grischa’s is motivated

to tackle Marx’s “second contradiction” of women’s repression.

The latter seems a slight misnomer. ‘Marx’s second contradiction’ originally was a revisionist position which aimed to take up questions of ecology. However, in doing so it lost the central concepts that analyse capitalism’s inherent recurring crisis. This crosses over with some of the analysis found in the economic writings of Rosa Luxemburg, but I did not note any reference to her in the film. Some women theorists have appropriated the term ‘second contradiction’ and applied it to contradictions about gender.

The writer and director Helma Sanders-Brahms became a key figure both in the New German Cinema and in feminist film-making in Germany, though not all critics rated her work. This title, along with Germany, Pale Mother / Deutschland bleiche Mutter (1980), is probably her most influential film. The film uses extensive location filming and a degree of improvisation. The black and white cinematography by Thomas Mauch is well done. And Elfi Tillack edits the different footage and sequences so that the film maintains momentum. As a dog fan I noted that there is one setting where the Labradors are missing, but apparently this was because it was an actual cramped bedsit and this had no plot significance. The original film had been transferred to a DCP and looked and sounded fine. I watched at the Zeughauskino, a small auditorium at the Deutsches Historisches Museum, that I really enjoy visiting.

Who’s Afraid of the Bogeyman (Wer fürchtet sich vorm Schwarzen Mann, Deutsche Demokratische Republik 1989)


This DDR film is full of unintentional irony, offering a portrayal of the East German state only a short time before its collapse. Whilst this documentary does not address the social and political contradictions in East Germany the portrait it offers clearly presents a state that is mired in the out-of-date technologies and social administration: the writing is on the wall.

The ‘bogeyman’ of the title is the coal delivery man. A literal translation would be ‘Who fears in front of Black Man’. We visit a private coal company which is run by a woman but whose workforce is entirely male. One sign of outmoded technologies is how many of the homes, including apartments in tower blocks, rely on coal as a heating fuel. Besides running on long after the use in advanced western economies the coal delivery business in Berlin has other distinctive features. The coal can come in sacks but also pre-packed in what look like small suitcases. And the wood for fires comes in neatly bound bundles. When we see customers calling in to place order we hear them asking for hundredweights of fuel. This is a different world from Britain, even when the working class kept their coal ‘in the bath’.

The seven man team faces heavy physical labour and dirty work. By the end of a day they are covered in grit and grime. Whilst there are showers at the depot they are fairly primitive. This applies to all the machinery. The deliveries are made in a motorised truck with some sort of petrol engine but with very low horse power. In the course of the film what seems to be an axle needs repair. The repair work is completely heath-Robertson. It seems to take a couple of days, with hammers. sledgehammers, acetylene torches and sundry other tools. Finally and triumphantly the axle is removed, but how the truck is then made roadworthy stretches beyond the length of this film.

The owner of the business is a resolute and extremely competent woman. She is assisted by her daughter who would take over thee businesses one day. Whilst the machinery might seem primitive the organisation is efficient. The owner is also articulate and talks of her firm and of it social context with fluidity. There is something similar when we hear the workforce answering questions.

The discussion subjects range from the building of the Berlin Wall and possible escape, [one tried], to child abuse and suicide as well as prison and alcoholism.” (Retrospective Brochure)

All are extremely good natured. The view of this segment of society suggests a working class with solidarity and satisfaction. There is no hint of impending doom. As one historian remarked the film has an air of whimsicality but its characters and their situation are completely engaging. The less than sixty minutes of the film offers us in their lives and their work with both sympathy and affection.


The director, Helke Misselwitz, was there to introduce the film. She remarked that when the topic was broached she was determined to find a firm with a woman at the helm. She successfully found one and also one that offered a fascinating set of portraits. The film was also visually satisfying, down to the cinematography of Thomas Pienert which captures the place and the people with unassuming grace. Pienert also worked on the screenplay with Helke Misselwitz. It does seem that this narrative emerged from their working study at the depot.

We also had as short film from the DDR, Nude Portraits – Gundula Schulze / Aktofotografie , Z. B. Gundula Schulze, directed by Helke Misselwitz in 1983. It seems that Gundula Schulze, a young graduate at the time, has become a famous photographer. Then she wrote a thesis on ‘nude photography in East Germany’. At the start we are shown some fairly stereotypical nude portraits, not any different from those that circulate in capitalist societies. Then the film introduces two strands. Nude photographs taken by Schulze of women aiming to present them as ‘whole women’. At times this colour footage is intercut with black and white 16mm footage of working women, here as cashiers at a line of tills in a supermarket. The contrasting images make the point well. And Schulze’s portraits are fine examples of women presented with their own character.

This film ran 11 minutes and had been copied onto a DCP. The feature documentary was screened from a good 35mm print. Both films had English sub-titles.