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maltatoday SUNDAY 4 MARCH 2018 News 19 The graphical, poster-like clarity of these classics has a truly trans- porting effect. The actors are over- powdered puppets miming exag- gerated emotions – eyes bulging through thick eyeliner before the inter-titles cut through the scene to explain what's going on. The sets are little more than labyrinthine stage constructions built with little heed for realism but that match the inner lives of the characters perfectly. But all of this heady, deliberate artificial- ity only serves to tap into something ancient, powerful, and – dare I say it? – universal. Need proof? "It looks like Gojira," the Japanese representative in our group says, pointing at a still from Fritz Lang's adaptation of Wagner's Ring Cycle depicting the dragon Fafnir, as we tour the legendary Fil- haus museum in Potsdamer Platz... >>> • <<< But it's not just the undisputed classics of German cinema that can provide us with an entryway into these same dream-worlds. One of our quirkiest outings during the trip was a visit to the Zeughauskino to catch a 'Retrospektive' screening of Robert Reinert's Opium (1919) – a silent film morality tale about the dangers of the titular drug, replete with now-unacceptable Orientalist tics – including yellow- and black- face – set to live piano accompa- niment and stuffed with its own dream-like fugues. Reinert's idea of what an "opium dream" would look like draws on bucolic, pagan imagery – a wood- land scene of nymphs and satyrs cavorting in the wild. It is this kind of anarchic bliss that is presented as being the foil to civilization and wholesome living, and it continues to resonate with a vivid painterli- ness to this day, especially when set to live piano accompaniment. These are the moments in which we are reminded of the true, raw alchemy of cinema – of "movie magic". The comparatively crude images of si- lent cinema, brought back to us in a charming, choppy prints worn with age, and the sound provided live from across the room. >>> • <<< Cinema is, in fact, made up of vari- ous moving parts, all of which have to be dreamed up and then put into action in as regimented a way as possible. "It's a miracle anything gets made at all", is a standard watch- word for the industry worldwide, and the trip to Berlin – where I got to hear the challenges filmmakers and festival organisers from various parts of the globe face – the practi- cal necessities of dreaming – the hard work hidden under the fugue – was also made evident to me. Some face greater challenges than others. Our Turkish delegate, Esra Özban, organises an LGBTIQ film festival in her native Ankara – a fact made all the more difficult in recent years owing to political upheavals. "Well, the first thing I'd like to say that it was never illegal to be gay in Turkey – and that there is a long history of LGBTIQ activism in the country," Özban tells me as we set- tle in for coffee between our Goethe Institut-mandated sessions. "I really don't like to project this notion that Turkey was a complete no-go-zone for LGBTIQ people..." That said, the Pink Life Queer Festival which she helps organise was recently compromised by an emergency decree imposed by the municipal government of Ankara, under which all cultural activities somehow related to LGBTIQ are banned, indefinitely. "Of course, it's all pitched in the language of preserving public peace and morality," Özban says. "And they even had the nerve to present it as something that's in place to sup- posedly 'protect' LGBTIQ people – because, according to them, we trig- ger certain sensitivities just by being who we are." Unsurprisingly, however, the real fallout of all of this is that tension and violent reprisals have been on the increase. "Some of those who help us out with the festival are trans workers, for example, and it's clear that this 'state of emergency' has only made their lives more difficult." Worse still, it appears as though this new dispensation is starting to feel like the New Normal. "The only reason this ban is in place is because of the state of emer- gency. It would not have been legal otherwise. But the problem is, that it can be reinstated indefinitely..." Still, the festival will go on, even if its true origins have to be occluded from the authorities. "They've banned it, but it's getting even more widespread in some ways." LGBTIQ associations across the country have helped to ensure the Pink Life Queer Festival has 'sanctuaries' in other cit- ies, and Özban reveals that funnel- ling some films online has helped them reach an audience that would not have otherwise been possible in the physical realm. The tenacity of dreams is real. >>> • <<< Like many others in the delegation, I fall ill at the tail end of the trip. This is a bit annoying, though the experi- ence of having to weave in and out of screenings while nursing a flu only accentuates the dream-like atmos- phere of this whole trip (and yes, the Singing Hotel Corridors only gain a keener edge as the ambient noises reverberate through my medicated skull). A little itch at the back of my brain pushes me to ask, "What does this all mean?!" as my fellow delegates aggressively follow through on their own screenings, business meet- ings and parties – so many parties! – about which we're all routinely updated on a collective WhatsApp thread. As the days in Berlin whittle down while I try to keep the illness from ruining it all, I corner Martin Jabs – one of our guides – to give me an insight into what the Goethe Institut really aims to get from these trips. "Speaking as a mere guide, the best I can offer is an observation, culled from ten years on the job," Jabs says. "Basically, what I think the German Foreign Office wants to achieve with these trips, using the Goethe Institut as a platform, is to make German culture visible abroad by inviting all sorts of visitors in, by fostering a sense of peace and understanding." Creating a buffer zone for this kind of free-flowing exchange of dia- logue feels pertinent in this day and age, Jabs adds, given how "so many politicians are pushing the limits of provocation right now". "I think what the Goethe Insti- tut has really managed to achieve is to create a clever bridge between the cultural world and the political world. Politicians can't perhaps be as outspoken in public as they want to be, but artists can speak up, and sometimes get in trouble for it. By creating a space where artists, and even critical journalists, can meet and discuss these issues across inter- national lines, the Institut exists in between both worlds, while ensur- ing the discussions that ensue are relevant, and can reach out to the right people". Jabs quickly laughs off some of the above formulations as being too cautious and diplomatic in a lot of ways, but I would hazard to say that the week which went by did manage to fulfill the Institut's stated aims. Especially when one considers the opening film of the 68th edition of the Berlin International Film Festi- val. Wes Anderson's Isle of Dogs is a parable about totalitarian regimes and the marginalisation of the Other – in which a talking pack of dogs are thrown onto a rubbish heap island after being banned by the dictator of an imaginary Japanese state. Ander- son's trademark blend of storytell- ing whimsy and symmetry-obsessed visual tics breathes a typical jolt of inspired life to the director's second foray into stop-motion animation. But its endearing overlay, challeng- ing us along the way with some truly heart-rending moments, regales us with that precious thing – hope. The hope that we can dream a kinder world into existence. treljic@mediatoday.com.mt PHOTOGRAPHY BY XAISONGKHAM INDUANGCHANTHY Part of the Goethe Institut delegation on a trip to the Filmhaus museum space at Potsdamer Platz Hotel-bound: The delegation heads to bed after a screening of the Berlinale's opening film: Wes Anderson's Isle of Dogs Shaggy dog story: Wes Anderson's fable of totalitarian regimes and marginalised species, Isle of Dogs, struck a topical chord as it opened the 68th edition of the Berlin International Film Festival on February 15