Akvilė Žilionytė

A woman returns to old Vilnius in search of her grandmother’s house, only to find a city rapidly erasing the past in favor of the future. She wanders the changing streets and encounters colorful local characters – but as night falls, reaching her goal becomes increasingly difficult. The film is a poetic meditation on constant movement and a longing to belong.

Four tired women who don't know each other meet by chance at a spa. Here, the film's characters get into strange and somewhat comical situations that help them understand what is wrong in their lives. There is also a fifth weary character here, which is the spa itself, trying to be the perfect place to relax, but failing.

For more than a decade, Artūras Morozovas has been photographing people in vulnerable situations – those who have experienced the Russian occupation and its consequences, those affected by the war in Ukraine, and those experiencing social isolation in Lithuania. He explores social problems that are still felt in both countries as a result of the Soviet occupation.

There is a story circulating among Zen Buddhist monks about two types of monks. First ones are settled and spend all their life in a monastery, they are identified with the blue mountains, while others are like white clouds – constantly traveling from one place to another. In the film, the filmmaker and Won Bo Sunim, a Lithuanian woman who decided to go to South Korea more than 20 years ago and become a Zen monk, embark on a journey in the mountains of South Korea.

During the night, people in the largest Romany settlement in Lithuania don‘t sleep. Two sisters, Zita and Liuba, have lived in this settlement their entire lives. “The daytime is not for me, for me it‘s night. At night I like my home and my life“ says one of the sisters.

He filmed her. They dreamt of living together between Bangladesh and Lithuania, making films together, opening a five-course restaurant and adopting orphans. Now he looks back on his life and his broken love affair.

In the last 7 years I lived in 5 countries, in 7 cities and in 16 homes. Now I only have three days to pack my things. It‘s my sixteenth home, sixteenth room from which I‘ll move myself out. I am packing things and through my window I see another 215 windows. Through these windows I see immigrants, couples, misfortunes. Some read, some play, some sleep, some learn to walk on the balance beam, they come in, they go out. I am filming so I wouldn‘t forget about them.

Haunted by childhood trauma, 32-year-old Roland turns to tantra and shamanic rituals for healing. But his most unexpected therapeutic practice is repairing washing machines. As he fixes what’s broken, he asks: is it true that real men don’t cry?