Trauma does not coexist easily with cinema. While film strives to bring trauma into the light, to name and make it visible, trauma itself often resists this exposure and remains unspoken. Representatives of the indigenous Adivasi groups in India describe traumatic events as “that which should not have happened.” Trauma becomes an experience that is both unthinkable and inexpressible. Sometimes, even the event linked to this trauma is forbidden to be named, leaving us to refer to it simply as “that.”

“That” represents a rupture in history, whether the story being told is that of an individual or a society. Trauma threatens the coherence of any narrative and resists attempts at representation, challenging the very essence of cinema. The programme titled This Should Not Have Happened focuses on the tension between material and medium, exploring questions such as: How can something that defies narration be subjugated to a narrative? How to convey an extreme experience that often resists the constraints of the medium itself? What techniques can reflect space and time distorted by catastrophe? Filmmakers’ attempts to capture and reveal trauma may reflect what historian Omer Bartov called “the struggle for coherence,” or they might gesture toward a mesmerizing abyss that can never be completely filled.

By listening carefully, one can always hear voices echoing from this abyss. The films in this programme do not rise above the events, observing from a distant angle. Instead, they follow the voices of survivors, connecting with their memories. This memory is a complex, often contradictory entity. It can be painfully detailed but also encompass false memories, amnesia, or attempts at repression. Under the weight of trauma, memory becomes fragmented, torn into disconnected pieces, making it increasingly difficult to reconstruct a shattered reality.

My Worst Enemy by Mehran Tamadon brings former Iranian political prisoners back to the scenes of police violence they endured. It asks whether a victim can transform into a torturer and whether a re-enactment can convey even a fraction of the truth.

Winter Howl by Matías Rojas Valencia follows a couple living in the Patagonian forests who survived years of imprisonment at Colonia Dignidad, a German sect in Chile that served as a torture chamber for dissidents during Pinochet’s regime.

Four Daughters by Kaouther Ben Hania tells the story of a family’s disintegration through interviews and re-enactments. By substituting actors for absent family members, Ben Hania reconstructs events whose memories may have become traps for those who experienced them.

The Eternal Memory by Maite Alberdi offers an intimate glimpse into the life of a man who spent his journalistic career preserving the memories of those who suffered under Pinochet’s dictatorship. Now, as he begins to lose his own memory, he relies on the support of his wife to navigate this painful transformation.

I Don’t Know Where You Will Be Tomorrow by Emmanuel Roy follows the story of a general practitioner working in a Marseille prison hospital. Her patients, mostly men with uncertain futures, rely on her as she invests all of herself to sustain their strength, life, and sense of self-worth.

Egor Sennikov, Nikita Smirnov
Programme curators