Casablanca Film Production (SI)

Rosa and Igor live under the same roof, without trespassing on each other's territory even thou they have been living together for years. Things that happened divided them - things that came about brought them back together.

A razor sharp comedy all about relationships and red tape. Kreso is at a loose end. A fully qualified biologist, he's about to hit middle age, disillusioned, out of work and stuck in a marriage that should probably never have started. At least his son still looks up to him. Meanwhile, the country's cash-strapped government is busily looking for unique ways to save money, and now, over 20 years after the 1990's war, sets its sights on the widows of fallen soldiers. Anyone unmarried but in a new relationship will no longer be allowed a military pension. Enforcing such an unpopular measure requires a new department: The Ministry of Love, whose purpose will be to gather information on any widows breaking the new law. With nothing to lose, Kreso agrees to be put forward by his pushy father in law. The only problem is, together with his eccentric partner, Sikic, he's completely the wrong man for the job.

Audrius Mickevičius puts the horribly disfigured face of his murdered brother at the start of his film. It is almost a meditation about the question whether a final act like murder can be atoned for in a temporal order – and whether the passing of time allows the victim’s family to forgive. Mickevičius uses the example of two lifers (one of them gets married and wants to have children, the other pours his whole passion into an idea of craftsmanship) and a philosopher with prison experience to make that strange state of suspended life comprehensible.

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.

The Wracked piano is a movie of an old, abandoned piano Bösendorfer model 225, who lives in the studio of Radio Slovenia. The story is being told in a documentary language through fiction and animation.

Private detective Emil Marlovsek can boast a wealth of solved cases of run away and lost dogs. He is assisted in his work by his secretary Beba and Milivoj, a retired officer of the Yugoslav National Army. One evening, Emil encounters the beautiful Sara in the bar where he occasionally plays the piano and falls in love at first sight. The next morning Sara disappears. Not long after he is paid a visit by entrepreneur Grubelic whose wife is missing. Emil soon realizes that she is Sara and immediately starts to search for her. He discovers that Sara is being held prisoner by the mafia, on account of her husband's fishy business involving people in high places. The story's outcome is completely unexpected.

In the start of the breakup of Yugoslavia, in spring 1991, there is a group of young conscripted soldiers in a remote military outpost. Their army and country are falling apart and the war is starting nearby. Friends are facing a decision of their lives: should they stay or run?

Tose Proeski between recording his last album The Hardest Thing.

The documentary entitled 'Janez Puhar's Lost Formula' introduces the Slovenian inventor of glass-plate photography from the point of view of a foreign observer, that of Scotsman Robin Crichton, who wonders how and why we honour him, since he is virtually unknown in the Western world. Robin decides to single-handedly look into these Slovenian beliefs. Puhar claims that for the light-sensitive matter he used mercury, sulfur, iodine and possibly varnish, which he applied in the end to protect the emulsion. But his real formula has never been brought to light anywhere. Indeed, the whole world knows that no one has used Puhar's ingredients to make photographs, because the said three elements are not sensitive to light - neither separately nor together as a compound. Robin therefore arrives at the key question: are the four Puhar originals, which currently exist around the world, real or are they just a mistake made by Slovenian historians and museum specialists?