The characterization of freedom was something filmmakers had to hide in Soviet Estonian cinema. At least when they wanted it to feel truthful for the audience.

Here are three films that managed to pick their battles and show us the path towards something personal, something not part of the official collective hive of the times and all of the directors also paid their price for taking this risk. This programme will take you through 17th century Estonian rural society where prejudice has more power than bread; Second World War paranoia where nobody can be trusted and everyone seems to be playing a double game; before finally running into the colourful wilderness of a child’s imagination colliding with the rationale of a parent. These are three films that no one was prepared for in Estonia back in the day.

Leida Laius’ “Werewolf” (1969) was her sophomore feature based on a mythic tale by a renowned Estonian playwright. While being a one-of-a-kind beautiful and free-flowing cinematic search for belonging for the protagonist Tiina (Ene Rämmeld) it turned into an open witch-hunt against Laius and her methods. Easily one of the most underrated films in Estonian film heritage.

Kaljo Kiisk is the most prolific Estonian filmmaker and “Madness” (1969) is his magnum opus shot during the summer after the Prague Spring that was like a thorn in the side of all that the Soviets stood for, a film about a totalitarian system where the madmen feel like being sane and the sane feel like madmen. A film only shown during closed screenings in Moscow that turned Kiisk into his own biggest critic and Tarkovski into his biggest fan.

Have you ever seen an experimental children’s fairy tale with Arvo Pärt’s score that dares to ask the Soviet folk who they really and actually mean it? Well, this is “Colourful Dreams” (1975) by Virve Aruoja and Jaan Tooming in one sentence.

Curated by Johannes Lõhmus.