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Eraserhead plays in a grim, strange world. Probably in the post-apocalypse. At the center of the film is Henry Spencer (Jack Nance), who wears his hair as if he had just reached into the socket. One evening Henry returns to his shabby apartment to find out that he was invited to dinner by the parents of his girlfriend Mary X (Charlotte Stewart). The worst possible family scene! Mary's mother even lets Henry answer particularly unpleasant questions twice and licks his face after a certain point in time. The grandmother is sitting in the corner. Maybe she is already dead. The father boasts in a good mood that his left arm is deaf. The dinner consists of chickens, which secrete disgusting mass, one cuts into it. And Mary gave birth to a child! A premature birth. But nobody is sure if it is a baby at all? Anyway, the parents insist on a marriage. And what does the baby look like? Like a tormented exorcist worm that permanently segregates innards. A tortured creature that whines and moans. Mary flees and Henry remains alone with the worm. Driven by hallucinations, a prostitute appears to the young father. His baby screams and pukes purulent phlegm. In order to save himself, he is forced to do something terrible... Eraserhead - as we can read - was shot by David Lynch in stages over years. Nevertheless, the film is harmonious and in an uncanny way even beautiful. Eraserhead stubbornly resists any explanation. There is something like a narrative structure, but in the course of the events it is lost in avant-garde experiments. For me it was always important: I had something to hold on to. And that is increasingly losing itself. It's precisely this residual logic that I miss in so many experimental films.

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How on earth did it come to this? In 1979, the long-divided left in Iran rallied behind the ‘revolutionary’ Khomeini, who was able to establish a theocracy right before their eyes. It is hardly surprising that the left, the so-called ‘79ers’, do not command much respect in Iran. Instead, there is a movement that longs for the days before 1979. A movement outside Iran, led by the Shah’s son. Within the country itself, a heavily armed minority has the population under its thumb, slaughtering and robbing them. The people are so desperate that they pin their hopes on a war to bring them relief. Asghar Farhadi has made his films within this system. He has won numerous film awards. His debut, Dancing In The Dust, was acclaimed by critics worldwide. Farhadi’s films are not explicitly political. They are moral. Dancing In The Dust is about marriage and money. Nazar (Yousef Khodaparast) loves his wife Reyhane (Baran Kosari), but there are salacious rumours about Reyhane’s mother, which is why Nazar is preparing for a divorce. Nobody wants this divorce. Reyhane’s life will be ruined. But Nazar has no money and is in arrears on a loan. He flees, hiding in the car of a grumpy snake charmer. Two men with very different temperaments: Nazar, who talks non-stop, and the snake charmer, who never speaks, in a hostile environment. If one interprets the artwork from a very broad perspective, might one still draw conclusions about life in Iran? In Iran, where tens of thousands of people are simply being slaughtered in a matter of days?

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There are plenty of dramatic scenes in John Hughes’ *Pretty in Pink*, but my favourite ones are the quiet moments where a boy plucks up all his courage to speak to the girl. Who still remembers when your dreams were so much bigger than your self-confidence? Pretty in Pink is all about this dilemma of teenage life. It’s about those moments when you think, ‘That’s exactly how it was when I was 16.’ Molly Ringwald plays Andie Walsh, a poor girl from a humble background. She lives with her unemployed father (Harry Dean Stanton), whose first words in the morning are “Where am I?” Andie works in a record shop. Her high school is full of rich snobs, and Andie has fallen for one of the rich boys – Blane (Andrew McCarthy). His best friend is called Duckie (Jon Cryer). A prime example of the sort of lad who thinks he can win a girl’s heart by acting silly. Or Iona (Annie Potts), who sports one radical hairstyle after another. The plot is an old one: the poor girl falls in love with the rich boy. She doesn’t want him to find out what a shabby house she lives in. In the end, she’s supposed to find her true love... Who knows, perhaps John Hughes could have given this old story a bit of a modern twist? After all, it’s full of universal truths that apply to every teenager. James Spader is brilliant as the arrogant snob who claims money means nothing to him (would he otherwise treat his parents’ house like that?). Molly Ringwald is THE face of the 80s; she conveys vulnerability and depth. She never comes across as cheesy or affected. Her conversations with Duckie – played by Jon Cryer – reveal one profound truth after another. That is probably exactly why some stories never fade away. We’re all familiar with the clichés; we already know what’s going to happen, and yet we feel that immense satisfaction when the girl and the boy – who are meant for each other – finally end up together.

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Has the century of the selfish mind already begun? Man has always been a being who has tirelessly sought a reality beyond himself. We have sent people to the moon and flown all manner of objects to other planets. Our signals are reaching out into the universe (and will probably only be received once we have become extinct). And we store and transmit digital data. All of this reflects our urgent need to communicate beyond our own minds....

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Things must have been a right mess when they were writing the script. Swordfish is gripping and skilfully directed, but it’s such a convoluted maze that by the end you’re guaranteed not to know who’s actually with whom... As far as I can tell, there is actually just one hero in the film – but are the villains actually villains? Are they even themselves? Hugh Hackman plays Stanley the hacker, who has just spent two years in prison. Today he lives in a caravan. He longs for his daughter (whose mother is lost in a drunken stupor). Then Ginger (Halle Berry) appears, wearing a skimpy red dress. She is there to recruit Stanley for a secret project headed by Gabriel Shear (John Travolta). Stanley hesitates, as the court has banned him from touching computers. But Ginger won’t give in and forces him at gunpoint. And who is Gabriel? A patriot? A villain? A double agent? Ginger’s lover or her target? Stanley shows little interest in Ginger, who is supposedly Gabriel’s girlfriend. Nevertheless, she bares herself to Stanley. Incidentally, there’s also a bank robbery and a car chase, but that’s not really the point. It’s more about pulling the rug out from under our feet every five minutes. Perhaps white and black cowboy hats should be brought back in films like this, so we don’t lose our bearings?

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Umberto is an upright and correct man. The style of his clothes shows that he was once in better circles. Now he is a pensioner, but the state's income is not enough to live on. Not even for his sparsely furnished room and a decent meal. Umberto and his dog are threatened with dismissal by the greedy landlord if he does not pay the increased rent. It's a shame, because she rents his room in the afternoon to couples who use his bed. Vittorio de Sicas Umberto D. shows a man's fall from poverty to homelessness. Of all Italian neorealistic films, Umberto D. is certainly the best. Simply because he is himself. Umberto D. tells his story without digression or lying dramatic effects. Even Umbertos dog is introduced without sentimentality - and that is unusual enough for a film in which a dog is involved! Umberto loves his dog and the dog loves him because that's his nature. The film never runs the risk of turning Umberto into a typically lovable Hollywood grandpa. Umberto just wants to be left alone and we can only hope that in his situation we would react the same as he did: Courageous and imaginative. The movie follows him as he becomes aware of the possibility of actually having to leave his room. Umberto always paid his bills, but this month it won't be enough. During the opening sequence we experience Umberto protesting with other old people against the low pensions. We know this from the media. But then de Sica does something that only FILM can do: He tells Umbertos personal fate. He, one of the crowd of demonstrators. That's how we are introduced to his life. 

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A film dedicated to God. Like in religious education? But director Majid Majidi is sincere and doesn't mean by "God" the one above all others. The Color Of Paradise also has nothing to do with the usual "consumer" children's films we make in the West. The focus is on a blind boy, of quick comprehension, very friendly and eager to learn. Mohammad is always attentive and loves to go to school. His grandmother and the two sisters love him. But his father does not love him. His father is a bitter widower who hopes to marry again, into a wealthy family. Maybe she wouldn't agree with a blind son? At the beginning of the film we see all the children being picked up after school. Only Mohammad waits in vain for his father, who doesn't come. In a particularly beautiful scene, he hears a beep. A sparrow fell out of his nest. Mohammad picks up the bird, climbs onto the tree, puts it back into the nest. Finally the family comes, but Mohammad has no illusions about his father's lack of love. Although he is good at school, his father doesn't want Mohammad to visit her any further. He would probably like to have an invisible blind son. The Color Of Paradise is a melodrama, but one that doesn't manipulate us. It's too simple, even plain - and sensitive! Instead of a score we hear the chirping of birds, insects and voices. The world as a blind man perceives it. Once Mohammad cries with despair - and that doesn't seem like a spectacle at any moment, but like real grief.