Twenty-five films from twenty-five European countries by twenty-five European directors.

Playfully avant-garde and exhibiting an intriguing sense of humor, PIZZAS offers a puzzle of widescreen imagery, brash pop moments, and road movie ambience. Pakalnina, Latvia’s best-known director, spun this cryptic but airy comedy/tragedy from a news item about two 18-year-old fast-food workers who robbed their employer’s safe and split. (Gene Siskel Film Center)

The late 1950s. Every night, Soviet tractors comb the coast of Latvia looking for signs of anyone who could have infiltrated the Soviet border from the sea. One morning, three Soviet patrolmen discover a woman’s shoe in the sand and footsteps leading to the quaint little village of Liepaja.

There are places that we don’t want to know anything about, places that we would rather pretend don’t exist at all. One such place is a dumpsite. From the humans’ point of view, it is a ghastly place, a stinking desert of trash. But it’s a desert that is teaming with life.

An absurdist farce centering around a school in post-Soviet Latvia. After a rather disgusting prank (someone defecates in the school attic), the tyrannical headmistress deems that no one can leave until the culprit is caught. When the photographer's pet python escapes, havok breaks loose.

Every day, come rain or shine, Theodore used to bike the seven kilometres from his house to the centre of the village to sit and drink beer in the bus stop. For him, no doubt, this place was the centre of the Universe. With his death, the centre has moved elsewhere, and the bus stop is just a bus stop again.

The camera stands in a house, the lens pointing through the window, outdoors, where the occupants of the home are standing. They respond patiently to the camera operator’s directions: a small step to the left, a little bit forward, no, back just a bit, yes, that’s perfect. Dozens of people pose in this way for a full minute. There’s a man who lives alone, a large family, an older woman on a trampoline. Some are entirely at ease, others more self-conscious. Rabbits, dogs, and cats are allowed to join these portraits, too. All of them are captured within the natural frame of the windows, along with the lace or floral curtains.

There should be silence in a museum. And someone should see to it that the silence is there. It's the logical order of things. However, it might seem weird to somebody.

The ferry crosses the river, transporting people from one shore to the other, from one country to another. It runs year round, never stopping. The footage was filmed on the Latvian-Belarussian border in the early 1990s - a time when the Soviet Union began to crumble and Latvia regained its independence.

A subdued observation of daily life in a children's hospital. The driver of a delivery van regularly delivers clean linen to the wards where small, tense dramas of life and death are played out.

The morning begins when the mail is delivered - this has been a tradition for almost an eternity. This film looks at daily things, daily movements, daily life and the daily routines of the postman, which are nevertheless meaningful to those who await and receive newspapers and letters.

Based on a Soviet propaganda story about Young Pioneer (the Soviet equivalent of a Boy Scout) Morozov, who denounced his father to Stalin’s secret police and was in turn killed by his family. His life exemplified the duty of all good Soviet citizens to become informers, at any expense. In our film, 75 years later, we call him little Janis. He is a Pioneer who lives on the Soviet collective farm “Dawn”. His father is an enemy of the farm (and the Soviet system) and plots against it. Little Janis betrays his father; his father takes revenge upon his son. Who then in this old Soviet tale is good and who is bad? This film reveals that a distorted brain is always dangerous. Even today.

A film about everything changing while remaining the same. Or rather – everything remaining the same while changing. We observed this (and wanted to share) while standing (standing regularly and for a long time) on a road rather close to the Eastern border of Latvia, because we followed the suggestion of the locals who asked to shoot “that horrible road”.

This documentary follows a bustrip from Tallinn to Kaliningrad. A route that was so common in the Soviet times now passes through 4 different countries and crosses 3 different borders.

The world seen through the eyes of children. The action takes place in Karosta, the former military port of Liepaja city – however, it is not that important, as the film could take place anywhere. We observe children playing on the beach, revealing the core of Pakalnina’s work: perceiving and transmitting emotions.

Santa Claus lives on the fourth floor of an apartment block. Santa owns seven dogs, six cats, two rabbits, one crow, one pigeon, one chinchilla, one guinea pig, ten degus and some fish.

A man in a grey coat roams the city. He is interested in boys and men. Those good enough for him will get a green bag. Marija is home alone. She is the only woman to get a green bag. But the film does not end quite there.

Rubiks’ Road is a bicycle path built in the 1980s and named after Alfreds Rubiks, leader of the Latvian Communist party at the time. One of the most ferocious opposers to Latvia’s independence in the early 1990s and later elected to the European Parliament.

Just like ordinary people, whole nations often wonder why their neighbors are living better than they are. For example, where did the Estonians living on Mohni Island suddenly get bicycles and sewing machines? Could the answer have some connection with the Latvian cargo ship "Rasma", which sank near Mohni in 1941?

There is a popular Latvian folksong which begins with the phrase "I was singing out high on a mountain". The irony of it is that according to physical geography there are no mountains in Latvia. So what exactly is the place where the Latvians are "singing out"? It may be safely said that it's the same place where they are skiing. That's how we make mountains out of molehills...Snow-covered mountains, to be sure.

As soon as I finished my first marathon, I wanted to become a tripod in order to make a film about it. That is because words are certainly not the right instruments to tell us what it’s like to run a marathon. I think we can try to show it through the characters, noises, texts, lights, the absolute physical understanding of shadows and of the sun, the water, the motions and the serenity. For those who do not practice running in marathons because they don’t want to or because they can’t, I wish to bring something from inside the marathon, out; for example, for my Mum, whose legs ache. I am acting like a spy sent into the marathon.

A shop by the side of the road. One after another, people enter and exit the small building. The randomness and illogical nature of the action feels unreal. The sense of timelessness and of being in an unnamed place further heightens the dreamlike nature of the scene. The nearly motionless black-and-white camera records a fragment of life in a place torn from the context of the world.

Waterfall and I, and – no, the other way around! This film is, of course, about nature – human nature. Or – what a human can do with the widest waterfall in Europe.

The oak tree in Seja is roughly 700 years old. Around this monumental tree, the peaceful and repetitive life goes on in the village, a group of houses in the middle of the forest. It is an almost unworldly existence in a condition of absolute simplicity where people are grateful for a hot cup of coffee and a good potato harvest.

The Hijacker lands the plane at the Rīga Airport. 7 year-old Tom, travelling on his own, voluntarily becomes a hostage. Along with the traditional demands, the Hijacker adds the demands of the little hostage – beginning with some local chocolate and a self-instruction tape for learning the native language, and ending with organizing a Song Festival and a special biathletes’ performance – all ideas originating from a CD on Latvia.

A CrossFit trainer becomes the father of a baby girl, Snow White. Snow White’s mother dies, and her father marries a young woman obsessed with CrossFit and herself. She works out all the time in order to be the best. And she really is the best – she can do 50 burpees. In the meantime, little Snow White plays and grows up in the CrossFit gym. Time passes, and one day it turns out – while the Stepmother can do 50 burpees, Snow White can already do 53 burpees...

A film about a plastic spoon and a society that has reached a high level of development – oil is being retrieved from subterranean depths, transported to processing plants, turned into plastic, transported to another plant, where it acquires the shape of a spoon, transported to convenience stores, where we buy it, and is then soon tossed into the trash. In other words, this is a film about the efforts put into making a spoon that can be thrown away so effortlessly.

The First Bridge is a film about frontiers, barriers, the ways to cross over and see what goes on, on the other side. But it also a film about time, as it was shot on Kodak Negative Films acquired in the year 1997 and discovered intact in 2018.

It is what it is. One needs a reason to get a passer-by to stop in their tracks and stand in front of the camera for a while. In this case the reason was - Mozart.

Maria decides to go for a swim in the pool even though it looks deserted and she’s warned that the water is cold. When she gets into the pool she is faced with not only the frigid water, but with her other feelings as well. Like fear.

Three elderly country bachelors idle away their time amidst semi-wild nature, closer to birds and pond fish than to humans.

Even before Marija was born it was clear that she would be a person getting in trouble all the time. However, that’s not all. The most important thing is that she is often alongside firemen. Is it because things around her catch fire?

A story about life in two minutes.

Once upon a time there was a chimney. By the chimney - there were three houses. In the houses there were seven girls. All of them - blondes.

A film about the daily life of Martin, a handicapped child who will always be dependent on his parents. Ever since he was very small, Martin has had to get around in a wheelchair and has needed the constant help of an adult. Martin’s parents, Inga and Andris Skesteri, tell about their life, about their son’s character and about their hopes for the future.

This film is about wondering why the world is the place that it is. Wondering, why beauty often lies in simplicity, or why taking something too seriously might result in the ridiculous, as playing can be at once the most important and serious thing to do.

Various people on the street stand stock still in front of the movie camera as though their photograph were about to be taken. This lasts just a few instants, then they nod as they look into the camera and move on. A family, a group of friends, men. In the background, city noises.

The Latvian director’s graduation film from Moscow Film School does not deliver images loyal to the regime but is a testimony to her journalistic background. When the independence struggle is to be suppressed by military power, the people in Riga erect barricades. Laila Pakalniņa captured the dramatic events whose topicality is frightening.

His own image in the mirror was so important that one day he didn’t find himself there.

The intimacy of passing by. Heading home, to work, to see a friend, to buy dinner, or perhaps to the cinema. As the seasons change, we encounter fellow passengers along the way. They commute, sit, wait, get bored, maybe sometimes stare at their small screens more than through the windows – but they always reach their destination. Alongside them are kiosk vendors, vegetable and flower sellers, janitors, and drivers, whose daily routines complement the journeys of the travellers. Public transport stops become intimate crossroads, offering us an unexpected, moving visual symphony of Riga neighbourhoods.