A small German village in the south of Brandenburg is preparing for a traditional youth ceremony. Children become adults, which is a cause worth celebrating. The young Kai lives with his father on a farm. They have invited guests for the festive meal planned for the following day. Everything has been arranged and the calf is ready for slaughter. But Kai's father does not want to slaughter or celebrate, he wants his peace. Driven by the fear that everything could go wrong, Kai races through the sleepy village. The afternoon leads him to Lea, a local girl. With her, time takes on a different pace. KAI captures a formative moment in life, where a boy tries to find a way out. From a village, from a family situation and from his own anxieties.

Contemporary cinema’s preeminent chronicler of architecture and its intersection with the ever-present crisis of 20th-century modernity, Heinz Emigholz returns with an alternately mournful and sly treatise on how the presence—and, in some cases, absence—of municipal and communal building architecture is inseparable from capitalist ideology. Focusing mainly on cities and provinces in Argentina, Germany, and Bolivia, Emigholz’s latest film is a work of quiet observation and historical excavation. From slaughterhouses in Salamone to the flooded former spa city of Epecuén to the newly built Humboldt Forum in Berlin, the film demonstrates the effect of capital on public spaces, where creation and destruction go hand in hand, and as always, Emigholz makes the journey one of intellectual force and cinematic beauty.

A pure nightmare: outtakes of a film that consists of nothing but outtakes. Its truest moment is a dream sequence in which the torturous initial sequence dissipates in an intoxicating rush, only to resurface, ghost-like, in a third sequence. Nothing is finished, not even the intertitles. Everything is emerging. Or decaying.