Zoltán Jeney

Irma Auer (Satu Silvo) is a former call-girl, trying to distance herself from the past. In a séance she is told to be 'marked for death', and is afterward threatened by her former pimp and abandoned by her groom, as he learns about her past. Irma attempts to commit suicide, and resurrects at the city morgue after being pronounced dead. After the incident, she wanders out direction-less, being pursued by the doctor who treated her and also a strange, tall man.

Based on the stories of Hungarian writer Gyula Krúdy, this film is a lush and sensuous depiction of the life, loves and memories of serial seducer Szindbád. As the protagonist looks back on his life, past and present, imagination and reality flow inseparably into one another.

Kalah is an old Arabic mathematical game, played by two people with 72 stones. The film is a "mapping" of the moves of a game that ends in a draw: each stone corresponds to a sound and a colour.

Shreds and fragments of film poetry that make its own place on the edge of a document film. The film is a college of dialogue between nature, abandoned country, and human fancy.

In the aftermath of World War II, a Hungarian teenager, captured by Soviet troops, forms an unlikely bond with a Russian soldier in a remote prison camp.

The story of a childless Jewish couple in WWII-era Hungary who adopt a Hungarian boy and raise him with their values and traditions.

Gazsi, the protagonist of the novel, comes from the very edge of the society of the small village; he is an unliveable, helpless, simple-minded person. The only thing he dreams of is a rabbit paprika. However, when the dream could come true, as he takes part in a hunt, Gazsi takes the side of the persecuted and saves the rabbit Paprikás.

World wars pick their victims not only from those serving on the front line, women and mothers who have lost husbands and sons in battle also become victims. All that is left of loved ones are yellowing photographs, curling postcards from staging posts and crumbling graves – and a gaping loss shouldered over decades. Yet we rarely consider the grief of those who remained at home. This short by Zoltán Huszárik shares in this mourning.