Thessaloniki International Documentary Film Festival — A–Z of films

As the surveys continue, different ideas of happiness emerge along with moments of shared humanity.

Robredo and Ressa are compelling, charismatic figures.

Wang’s affection for his subject matter is clear, but he also seems to delight in inviting the viewer to question what’s relayed.

The animation is highly stylised, with more emphasis on shadow and light and the movement and rhythm of the characters than on intimate detailing. However, this impressionistic style suits the ever-present, free-wheeling jazz soundtrack.

It’s tribute to the collaborative feel of this film that the documentary continually takes its lead from what Harris is saying rather than pushing him this way and that.

An impressive potted history of an important movement in cinema with an equally impressive list of contributors.

If it sounds like an uncanny valley from the start, Block and Riesewieck illustrate just how bizarre and, sometimes, downright creepy this can be using genuine exchanges that have occurred.

Despite the anger at the unfairness of what has gone before, this is ultimately a warm-hearted, life-affirming film.

By animating the whole movie, Rasmussen makes the story feel more immersive and of a whole piece.

Creativity that could not be planned.

The film is artless, like a home movie, and so unpreachy there are no demands on your sympathy.

Although the structure is offbeat, and the muscular scoring from Jonas Colstrup (The Square) emphasises the emotional rollercoaster, Fredriksson’s film remains empathetic to all concerned.

A thorough, well-told tale intertwined with many of the key social and artistic movements of that century – and dotted with its luminaries – Hidden Master brings Lynes back out into the light.

This is a quiet and thoughtful film with slowly building power. It will leave you awed by the resilience of its subjects yet angry that they needed it.

The silence between the calls serves as a space for the horror of them to fully take shape in the viewers’ mind.

Beyond the stories that unfold within the vehicle, the tension of these journeys, often on dirt tracks in rural areas, is brought home.

The film builds like thriller, its narrative supported by archive footage and interviews with Marzia and her fellow students.

This is not conventional narrative, start to end, born in, schooled at, died documentary.

An assured feature debut that’s confident enough to explore the sometimes complex dynamics at work while celebrating the community at its heart.

This is cameraman as documenter, magician and stuntman rolled into one.

Through it all, Mediha remains a marvel, finding the inner strength to be there for her brothers at the same time as steeling herself to try to identify her kidnapper.

Through a collage of footage shot by numerous brave protesters, she pieces together a statement about film as identity, in a country where the individual slowly fades away.

And so we get a very engaging, often suspenseful movie in Navalny, a record of the dangers that come with pissing off an authoritarian regime.

The love story is remarkable in its own right but the film also shows the way these sorts of histories could be hidden in plain sight.

A heartfelt film.

By night, Shreyank Nanjappa’s inspired sound design captures the furious beating of wings and, layered on top of them, the shuffling and chirrupping and all the curious calls of the moths as they rush in to land.

There are extreme and moderate views here, which recall many a social media debate about everything from slavery street names to flags.

Capturing the experience of living in a world where one’s gender doesn’t fit better than almost any other film to date, Preciado’s work is all about claiming space and present day narrative.

There’s nothing like a niche subject or place to provide the backdrop for a quirky documentary - and Panellinion has both.

These are the nooks and crannies where the ghosts still hang out, whistling in the dark, eager to haunt anew a crowd.

Particularly intriguing here is the overlap between hentai and art.

The Devil, you might say, is in the details.

It’s quickly apparent that entering prison means becoming part of the collective body that is the prisoner population, with the choreographed movements that accompany the songs reinforcing the sense of synchronicity.

A piece that is deeply personal, punk in its aesthetic, and all the more powerful for both.

By taking their time and standing back from the fray, Mones and Suh are able to take a much more objective look at these social phenomena.

An elegant tribute to lives that would otherwise have been forgotten.

Wörle avoids taking any sort of overt political viewpoint, instead keeping an intimate focus on how Valeria is affected.

This is a love letter to Nystabakk’s family and good animal husbandry.

Viewers are likely to go away appreciating Aubrey’s frustrations and perhaps, if they share them, feeling validated, but without the tools to do anything about them.

On the visual front, the camera moves harmoniously with the workers' unpredictable gestures.

Indisputably one of the greatest concert films ever made, DA Pennebaker's striking work captures those last moments onstage in all their glory.