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When, before the revolution, accidentally arrested, the philistine - a tsarist civil servant of high status - falls in deep, lethargic sleep. 20 years later he wakes up and finds himself in a post-revolutionary, still young Soviet Union. He is stunned. He is shocked. But a philistine always finds his way.
The Blood Countess and her maid embark on a quest for the red elixir of life and a book that threatens the vampire realm. Hot on their heels are a police inspector, two vampirologists, a vegetarian nephew and his therapist.
In fall 2007 the Women's Film Festival Seoul issued a call that did not promise, like the pirate queen Madame X, "gold, love, and adventure," but something as tempting as the opportunity to film a 15-minute short in Korea, which, assembled as one of six parts of an omnibus production, would open the 10th festival in 2008. I signaled my acceptance and voilà: SEOUL WOMEN HAPPINESS.
A narrative about "the days when the Jews found rest from their enemies and the month that was transformed from pain to joy, from mourning to a feast day." A parable about the courage to arrive in another country and a funny mound of joy about luck in misfortune. Narrated by György Konrád and performed by immigrants from Central and South-Eastern Europe.
Selected industrial and city settings from the three films were documented again for Usinimage and intercut with the corresponding fiction film scenes, in order to give the landscapes a new accent through artistic defamiliarization and condensation. It is an exploration of city architecture, in which the shooting location serves not just as reflective or constrastive backdrop but rather becomes itself content.
Places and worlds beyond the interest of the media are at the mercy of the law of forgetting. The spotlight fades and that which urgently needs public attention lies in the dark: poverty, hopelessness, and the population's fear in the face of terror from the state or from gangs, of Mafia-like business practices and paramilitary despotism. This is not a journey to a far-off land, outside of our cultural circle; it takes place along the old transport and trade routes through the decaying empires of southeast Europe. The images collected at the side of the road distill something essential from a number of small but significant observations: the coincidence of the lack of coincidence in living conditions.
Seven Women, Seven Sins (1986) represents a quintessential moment in film history. The women filmmakers invited to direct for the seven sins were amongst the world's most renown: Helke Sander (Gluttony), Bette Gordon (Greed), Maxi Cohen (Anger), Chantal Akerman (Sloth), Valie Export (Lust), Laurence Gavron (Envy), and Ulrike Ottinger (Pride). Each filmmaker had the liberty of choosing a sin to interpret as they wished. The final film reflected this diversity, including traditional narrative fiction, experimental video, a musical, a radical documentary, and was delivered in multiple formats from 16, super 16, video and 35mm.
The notorious pirate ruler Madame X places a print ad, calling on women to escape their boring lives and promising "gold, love and adventure" to all who come aboard her ship, the Orlando. A motley crew including a housewife, diva and artist (played by Yvonne Rainer) embark on a quest for self-transformation, which quickly heads towards destruction as they are subjected to Madame X's sadistic, erotic escapades.
Vienna’s Prater is an amusement park and a desire machine. No mechanical invention, no novel idea or sensational innovation could escape incorporation into the Prater. The diverse story-telling in Ulrike Ottinger’s film “Prater” transforms this place of sensations into a modern cinema of attractions. The Prater’s history from the beginning to the present is told by its protagonists and those who have documented it, including contemporary cinematic images of the Prater, interviews with carnies, commentary by Austrians and visitors from abroad, film quotes, and photographic and written documentary materials. The meaning of the Prater, its status as a place of technological innovation, and its role as a cultural medium are reflected in texts by Elfriede Jelinek, Josef von Sternberg, Erich Kästner and Elias Canetti, as well as in music devoted to this amusement venue throughout the course of its history.
Ulrike Ottinger weaves her personal memories of Parisian bohemianism and the serious social, political and cultural upheavals of the time into a cinematic “figure poem.”