Content from Sakdoc Film

Georgia’s former prime minister has found a unique hobby. He collects century-old trees, some as tall as 15-story buildings, from communities along the Georgian coast. At a great expense and inconvenience, these ancient giants are uprooted from their lands to be transplanted in his private garden.

In the Georgian riverside town of Kutaisi, summertime romance and World Cup fever are in the air. After a pair of chance encounters, pharmacist Lisa and soccer player Giorgi find their plans for a date undone when they both awaken magically transformed with no way to recognize each other.

This German documentary looks inside a nearly idle restaurant in a dowdy building in the country of Georgia, its listless workers waiting for business to pick up. The mournful atmosphere serves as a metaphor for the uncertain future of Georgia.

"Kartli" refers both to Georgia’s medieval kingdom and a Tbilisi sanatorium sheltering refugees from the 1990s war in Abkhazia, meant as temporary but lasting 30 years. The crumbling building became a recreated “country”, with a farm, gardens, terraces and rooms where old VHS tapes revive memories of a lost paradise. Through Tamuna, Irma, and others, the film explores exile, trauma, and shared resilience, showing that nothing stays the same inside Kartli.

The story of Moldovan migrant worker Damian, navigating the postmodern world in foreign country, within the walls of a German warehouse, where an artificial mind named “Lydia” guides his every move.

A hot summer day in Tbilisi. The market is still closed, and the only living presence is the local dogs. With the break of day, truckloads of watermelons arrive, people begin to bustle, farmers haggle. Soon, a new shopping centre will take over this place — a building set to erase the life that still lingers here. As we follow people setting off into their day, through the shifting landscape and the call of mythical sirens, our gaze settles on a single fruit vendor who finds himself in a confrontation between life and death. One life equals one village — or perhaps, the entire country?