Kommende visningermarts

two seasons, two strangers

sho miyake
2025
89 min.
Japan
DCP
japansk tale / engelske undertekster

Den japanske hovedprisvinder på sidste års Locarno filmfestival. En lavmælt film, der lader to årstider og to møder mellem fremmede mennesker spejle hinanden i poetiske paralleller.

Først: En sommerdag ved stranden. Lyden af bølgebrus spreder sig diffust langs lydbilledet. To unge, ensomme mennesker møder hinanden. De udveksler et par ord, går rundt i stilhed, går hver til sit, mødes igen, spiser sammen og svømmer i det stormfulde hav.

Dernæst: vinter, et bjerget snelandskab. Sneen absorberer al lyd, lægger verden i stilhed, og det reflekterende lys giver jorden en særlig glød. Storbymennesket Li, en manuskriptforfatter med skriveblokade, er rejst hertil for at, ja, hun ved faktisk ikke, hvorfor hun er taget afsted. Hun når frem til et øde pensionat, der drives af den gådefulde Benzo. De taler sammen, ja, men mest forbi hinanden. Alligevel begiver de sig en aften ud på et uventet eventyr i det natlige snelandskab.

Two Seasons, Two Strangers – som vandt hovedprisen på sidste års Locarno filmfestival – er baseret på to historier af mangategneren Yoshiharu Tsuge. Med en præcis sans for de mest beskedne gestusser fremmaner instruktør Sho Miyake en verden, der både er rundet af dyb tristesse og rummer en evne til genfortryllelse. Miyake arbejder med fortællemæssige metalag, som lader hvert blik og hver bevægelse give genklang i poetiske paralleller og kontraster. Two Seasons, Two Strangers er den type film, der renser sanserne og lader sin lille fiktion stå helt åben over for verden og dens mange uforklarligheder.

Om filmen har Sho Miyake selv udtalt: “Vi rejser og laver film for at træde ud af rutinen og de sædvanlige udtryk; for at gå ud i verden som en fremmed. Ord kan føre os nye steder hen, men kan også bedøve vores sanser. Gennem billeder og bevægelse kan vi møde andre – og os selv – mere fordomsfrit. Og vi vågner op til en verden uden navn, der er fyldt med stilhed og forundring.”

Præsenteres i samarbejde med Cinemateket.
Kopi: Bitters End.

“The World Doesn’t Know Shinji Somai”
Ryusuke Hamaguchi, 2023

“The world doesn’t know Shinji Somai”. That was the catchphrase coming with the book Yomigaeru Somai Shinji (Shinji Somai Renaissance) published in 2011, 10 years after the director’s death. Now that 10 years has passed again, does the world finally met Shinji Somai? Yes and no. Of course, several retrospectives of his films have been organized in festivals, where he found a new audience. He is still far from achieving the widespread recognition that all Somai lovers feel is his due. This is a thing that I’ve felt precisely while speaking with those involved in cinema around the world. The world still doesn’t know Shinji Somai.

Since his debut in 1980, Shinji Somai is held in the highest esteem by Japanese film fans, just as it is, let's face it, impossible for anyone making cinema in Japan today not to have Somai in mind. Of course, it is easy to imagine the difficulty of mulling over the atmosphere of early Somai films if one is not familiar with the specific context of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. At a time when, with the dismantling of the major studio production system many films were being made by parasitising other industries such as television or music Somai launched his filmography by making "idol films" relying on the popularity of the teenage girls who played the leading roles (which is reminiscent of Hou Hsiao Hsien's debut at the same period).

We often speak of the "sequence shot" or the "long shot" to characterise the stylistic feature he acquired during this period. However, nothing could be more misleading than to regard this as his 'auteurism'. Simply comparing Somai Shinji's long takes with those of Welles, Tarkovsky, Angelopoulos and others will only make his technical coarseness stand out. This could be understood as a reflection of the poor production conditions of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. But no. What he was really aiming for was first and foremost the 'sparkle of life' of the actors. In his work, the long shot allows these young women, seen as "idols", to burst through the frame from within, the better to escape. This inspires the crew, who grew up in studios, to break through the limited circumstances of the time. This 'long shot', which is a by-product of his deep trust in the vitality of the actors' and crew's bodies, is not just a directorial technique, but rather a reflection of his 'attitude to life'.

Moving (selected in Cannes Film Festival's Un Certain Regard section in 1993) is, amongst all of Somai’s films, the one which first created a contact between international audience and his entire oeuvre. However, the film did not simply end up unawarded, nor did it receive the same critical favours as Takeshi Kitano's Sonatine, which was screened in the same year and in the same section. Here again, the world and Somai replayed their failed encounter. Watching the film again today, it seems unbelievable. Especially because of the presence of the lead actress, Tomoko Tabata. Her ability to move, the expression on her face, her eyes - everything is incredible; but it is her voice that I find most captivating. This voice, which alone manages to express her whole being, which plays with distance and time as if it were breaking down all boundaries, to touch and shake the adults who play the other characters, right up to the audience. As a filmmaker, it's hard to believe that such a being could exist in a film. The images are like so much evidence of her vital energy. We are led to reflect on the fact that the life force residing there may also be in us, and we may not be making full use of it. Life, here reinstilled.

There can be no doubt that Moving is still the best gateway for "the World" and Shinji Somai to meet. You don't need to know anything about the history of Japanese cinema to understand this film, which marks a period of the highest refinement in his career, as well as having been brought to life through Tomoko Tabata’s character. But if, thanks to this film, viewers ever become interested in Shinji Somai, I would like them to see his twelve other films. Because in each of them, you will see bodies and hear voices that surprise you. Again and again. There's nothing to be surprised about. We have not yet met Somai Shinji enough.

We still don't know Somai!
Essay udgivet i pressebooklet i forbindelse med den nyrestaurede udgave af Moving.

05. marts
19.15
Cinemateket (gothersgade 55, 1123 København)
Køb billet

Mor, datter, Georgien:
Nutsa og Lana Gogoberidze
28.-29. marts

Tusind sole dedikerer to dage til to generationer af georgisk film og historie: Nutsa og Lana Gogoberidze.

1930: En grådkvalt toårig pige ser sin mor pakke sine tasker. Hun skal rejse til en fjern bjerglandsby for at indspille en film. En ældre mand i husstanden spørger moren: Er arbejdet virkelig værd at forlade det grædende barn for?

Kvinden, der rejser, er Nutsa Gogoberidze. Georgiens første kvindelige filmskaber. Den lille pige er Lana Gogoberidze, der mange år senere bliver en af hovedstemmerne i den georgiske nybølge. I dag er hun 97 år, men mindet om afskeden står stadig klart.

Nutsa Gogoberidze instruerede to film, i 1930 og 1934, som begge blev censureret af sovjetmagten (hendes første film, Their Kingdom (1927), var medinstrueret af Mikhail Kalatozov). I 1937 blev hun deporteret til ti år i arbejdslejr under Stalins politiske udrensninger. Nutsas bortrejsen – og det efterfølgende ti år lange fravær – kastede en skygge over Lana Gogoberidzes liv. Hun voksede op uden sin mor, mens den officielle sovjethistorie buldrede afsted og slettede sporene af dem, der faldt uden for ideologien.

Nutsa vendte hjem i kølvandet på anden verdenskrig. Hendes film var glemt, og hun fik aldrig mulighed for at genoptage sit virke. Da hun døde i 1966, blot 63 år gammel, havde datteren Lana netop påbegyndt sin egen karriere som filmskaber. I film efter film kredser hun om mødre og døtres sammenflettede skæbner og deres forsøg på at opnå frihed og tosomhed under undertrykkende politiske systemer. I ingen film står dette klarere end i det oversete mesterværk The Waltz on the Petschora (1992), der udspiller sig i 1930’ernes Georgien.

Årtier senere sker det utænkelige: Nutsa Gogoberidzes to tabte film bliver fundet, Buba i 2013 og Cheerless i 2018. Takket være Lana Gogoberidze og hendes datter, Salomé Alexi, bliver filmene restaureret, og de utrolige billeder af georgiske bjerglandskaber og åbne vidder vækkes til live efter mere end 80 års glemsel. Et af de centrale billeder i Buba? Mødre og børn i hvile på en bakketop.

Nutsa og Lana Gogoberidze: to generationer af georgisk historie og filmkunst. Var det arbejdet værd at forlade det grædende barn? Spørgsmålet kan vel aldrig besvares, men sikkert er det, at de på hver sin måde brugte filmkunsten til at forene mødre og døtre i de øjeblikke, hvor deres eget liv ikke tillod det.

Filmprogram

28/03 17.30:
Buba + Cheerless
nutsa gogoberidze, 1930-34

29/03 19.00:
The Waltz on the Petschora
Lana Gogoberidze, 1992

buba + cheerlESS

Nutsa Gogoberidze
1930+1934
93 min.
georgien
DCP
Engelske mellemtekster

Oplev to film af Georgiens første kvindelige filmskaber, Nutsa Gogoberidze. Filmene blev fundet i 2010’erne efter mere end 80 års glemsel og restaureret af Gogoberidzes barn og barnebarn.

Buba
I århundreder har befolkningen i det højtliggende bjergområde Racha kæmpet for at overleve. Så snart den sparsomme høst er bragt i hus, drager mændene ned i dalen og efterlader kvinder og børn alene i naturens nåde i månedsvis. I sin poetiske dokumentarfilm sammenkobler Nutsa Gogoberidze den patriarkalske orden med billeder af en lys, teknologisk fremtid, fremmanet gennem en rytmisk montage og suppleret af imponerende billeder af naturens ærefrygtindgydende kræfter.

Cheerless
Sumpene i den georgiske region Mingrelia skal drænes for at bekæmpe malaria og give bedre vilkår for landbrug. En lokal legende viser sig dog at stå i vejen for moderniseringsprojektet: Gudinden Ujmuri siges at bo i sumpene og forsvare landskabet mod alle ubudne gæster. Cheerless skaber en ufattelig montage af kontraster, der effektivt iscenesætter stærke karakterer og barske levevilkår og tydeligt præsenterer konflikten mellem tradition og modernitet.

Præsenteres i samarbejde med Gloria Biograf.
Kopi: Salomé Alexi, 3003 Film.

“The World Doesn’t Know Shinji Somai”
Ryusuke Hamaguchi, 2023

“The world doesn’t know Shinji Somai”. That was the catchphrase coming with the book Yomigaeru Somai Shinji (Shinji Somai Renaissance) published in 2011, 10 years after the director’s death. Now that 10 years has passed again, does the world finally met Shinji Somai? Yes and no. Of course, several retrospectives of his films have been organized in festivals, where he found a new audience. He is still far from achieving the widespread recognition that all Somai lovers feel is his due. This is a thing that I’ve felt precisely while speaking with those involved in cinema around the world. The world still doesn’t know Shinji Somai.

Since his debut in 1980, Shinji Somai is held in the highest esteem by Japanese film fans, just as it is, let's face it, impossible for anyone making cinema in Japan today not to have Somai in mind. Of course, it is easy to imagine the difficulty of mulling over the atmosphere of early Somai films if one is not familiar with the specific context of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. At a time when, with the dismantling of the major studio production system many films were being made by parasitising other industries such as television or music Somai launched his filmography by making "idol films" relying on the popularity of the teenage girls who played the leading roles (which is reminiscent of Hou Hsiao Hsien's debut at the same period).

We often speak of the "sequence shot" or the "long shot" to characterise the stylistic feature he acquired during this period. However, nothing could be more misleading than to regard this as his 'auteurism'. Simply comparing Somai Shinji's long takes with those of Welles, Tarkovsky, Angelopoulos and others will only make his technical coarseness stand out. This could be understood as a reflection of the poor production conditions of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. But no. What he was really aiming for was first and foremost the 'sparkle of life' of the actors. In his work, the long shot allows these young women, seen as "idols", to burst through the frame from within, the better to escape. This inspires the crew, who grew up in studios, to break through the limited circumstances of the time. This 'long shot', which is a by-product of his deep trust in the vitality of the actors' and crew's bodies, is not just a directorial technique, but rather a reflection of his 'attitude to life'.

Moving (selected in Cannes Film Festival's Un Certain Regard section in 1993) is, amongst all of Somai’s films, the one which first created a contact between international audience and his entire oeuvre. However, the film did not simply end up unawarded, nor did it receive the same critical favours as Takeshi Kitano's Sonatine, which was screened in the same year and in the same section. Here again, the world and Somai replayed their failed encounter. Watching the film again today, it seems unbelievable. Especially because of the presence of the lead actress, Tomoko Tabata. Her ability to move, the expression on her face, her eyes - everything is incredible; but it is her voice that I find most captivating. This voice, which alone manages to express her whole being, which plays with distance and time as if it were breaking down all boundaries, to touch and shake the adults who play the other characters, right up to the audience. As a filmmaker, it's hard to believe that such a being could exist in a film. The images are like so much evidence of her vital energy. We are led to reflect on the fact that the life force residing there may also be in us, and we may not be making full use of it. Life, here reinstilled.

There can be no doubt that Moving is still the best gateway for "the World" and Shinji Somai to meet. You don't need to know anything about the history of Japanese cinema to understand this film, which marks a period of the highest refinement in his career, as well as having been brought to life through Tomoko Tabata’s character. But if, thanks to this film, viewers ever become interested in Shinji Somai, I would like them to see his twelve other films. Because in each of them, you will see bodies and hear voices that surprise you. Again and again. There's nothing to be surprised about. We have not yet met Somai Shinji enough.

We still don't know Somai!
Essay udgivet i pressebooklet i forbindelse med den nyrestaurede udgave af Moving.

28. marts
17.30
Gloria biograf (Rådhuspladsen 59, 1550 København)
Køb billet

The Waltz on the petshora

lana Gogoberidze
1992
102 min.
Georgien
DCP
georgisk tale / engelske undertekster

Lana Gogoberidzes selvbiografiske film skildrer Georgien under Stalins store udrensning i 1930’erne: en pige flygter fra et børnehjem og søger ly i sit gamle familiehjem. Hendes far er blevet henrettet, og hendes mor er blevet deporteret til en arbejdslejr i Sibirien. I barndomshjemmet møder hun en ubuden officer, der også har søgt tilflugt. I en parallelhandling skriver moderen breve til sin datter fra arbejdslejren. Moderens fortællerstemme høres ofte uden for billedet – som et slags flakkende minde – og hun beskriver fællesskabet blandt de internerede kvinder. Med ‘The Waltz on the Pechora’ kunne Lana Gogoberidze endelig realisere den film, som hun, med sine egne ord, altid havde ønsket og haft behov for at lave. Den er baseret på hendes mors dokumentariske beretninger om livet i lejren og Gogoberidzes egne barndomsminder. (Gaby Babić/Barbara Wurm)

Præsenteres i samarbejde med Grand Teatret.
Kopi: Salomé Alexi, 3003 Film.

“The World Doesn’t Know Shinji Somai”
Ryusuke Hamaguchi, 2023

“The world doesn’t know Shinji Somai”. That was the catchphrase coming with the book Yomigaeru Somai Shinji (Shinji Somai Renaissance) published in 2011, 10 years after the director’s death. Now that 10 years has passed again, does the world finally met Shinji Somai? Yes and no. Of course, several retrospectives of his films have been organized in festivals, where he found a new audience. He is still far from achieving the widespread recognition that all Somai lovers feel is his due. This is a thing that I’ve felt precisely while speaking with those involved in cinema around the world. The world still doesn’t know Shinji Somai.

Since his debut in 1980, Shinji Somai is held in the highest esteem by Japanese film fans, just as it is, let's face it, impossible for anyone making cinema in Japan today not to have Somai in mind. Of course, it is easy to imagine the difficulty of mulling over the atmosphere of early Somai films if one is not familiar with the specific context of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. At a time when, with the dismantling of the major studio production system many films were being made by parasitising other industries such as television or music Somai launched his filmography by making "idol films" relying on the popularity of the teenage girls who played the leading roles (which is reminiscent of Hou Hsiao Hsien's debut at the same period).

We often speak of the "sequence shot" or the "long shot" to characterise the stylistic feature he acquired during this period. However, nothing could be more misleading than to regard this as his 'auteurism'. Simply comparing Somai Shinji's long takes with those of Welles, Tarkovsky, Angelopoulos and others will only make his technical coarseness stand out. This could be understood as a reflection of the poor production conditions of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. But no. What he was really aiming for was first and foremost the 'sparkle of life' of the actors. In his work, the long shot allows these young women, seen as "idols", to burst through the frame from within, the better to escape. This inspires the crew, who grew up in studios, to break through the limited circumstances of the time. This 'long shot', which is a by-product of his deep trust in the vitality of the actors' and crew's bodies, is not just a directorial technique, but rather a reflection of his 'attitude to life'.

Moving (selected in Cannes Film Festival's Un Certain Regard section in 1993) is, amongst all of Somai’s films, the one which first created a contact between international audience and his entire oeuvre. However, the film did not simply end up unawarded, nor did it receive the same critical favours as Takeshi Kitano's Sonatine, which was screened in the same year and in the same section. Here again, the world and Somai replayed their failed encounter. Watching the film again today, it seems unbelievable. Especially because of the presence of the lead actress, Tomoko Tabata. Her ability to move, the expression on her face, her eyes - everything is incredible; but it is her voice that I find most captivating. This voice, which alone manages to express her whole being, which plays with distance and time as if it were breaking down all boundaries, to touch and shake the adults who play the other characters, right up to the audience. As a filmmaker, it's hard to believe that such a being could exist in a film. The images are like so much evidence of her vital energy. We are led to reflect on the fact that the life force residing there may also be in us, and we may not be making full use of it. Life, here reinstilled.

There can be no doubt that Moving is still the best gateway for "the World" and Shinji Somai to meet. You don't need to know anything about the history of Japanese cinema to understand this film, which marks a period of the highest refinement in his career, as well as having been brought to life through Tomoko Tabata’s character. But if, thanks to this film, viewers ever become interested in Shinji Somai, I would like them to see his twelve other films. Because in each of them, you will see bodies and hear voices that surprise you. Again and again. There's nothing to be surprised about. We have not yet met Somai Shinji enough.

We still don't know Somai!
Essay udgivet i pressebooklet i forbindelse med den nyrestaurede udgave af Moving.

29. Marts
19.00
Grand teatret (Mikkel Bryggers Gade 8, 1460 København)
køb billet

Kommende visningerapril

My wife cries

Angela Schanelec
2026
93 min.
Tyskland
DCP
Tysk tale / engelske undertekster

Seneste skud på stammen fra den dobbelte vinder af Sølvbjørnen i Berlin: Angela Schanelec. En minimalistisk og elliptisk fortælling om misforståelser og to menneskers søgen efter et fælles sprog.

Det er endnu en dag i den 40-årige kranfører Thomas’ liv højt hævet over det snavsede mikrokosmos, der er byggepladsen og verdenen under ham. Men så modtager han et opkald og får at vide, at hans kone, Carla, er på hospitalet, og han må komme og hente hende. Så det gør han. Da han når hen til hospitalet, finder han Carla siddende på en bænk uden for hospitalet i stedet. Han sætter sig ved siden af hende på bænken og spørger, hvad der er i vejen. Og så begynder hans kone at græde.

Græde og fortælle.

Og jo mere hun græder og fortæller, jo tydeligere bliver det, at Thomas og Carla måske slet ikke taler det samme sprog. My Wife Cries er grundlæggende en film om misforståelser. En romantisk tragedie om to personers søgen efter et fælles sprog og menneskets generelle behov for at forstå (en anden). En pointe, der understreges af, at Carla spilles af franske Agathe Bonitzer, mens Thomas spilles af serbiske Vladimir Vulević. Deres tyskkundskaber giver dialogen et pudsigt staccato-præg, hvor ikke bare det, der siges, men også måden det siges på, bliver en del af Angela Schanelecs filmiske projekt. Det er, som om det er vigtigere at tale om følelserne end det er rent faktisk at føle dem.

Angela Schanelecs værk er minimalistisk og er ofte blevet sammenlignet med franske Robert Bressons i kraft af hendes forkærlighed for elliptiske fortællestrukturer samt karakterernes meget præcise og afmålte bevægelser og talte sprog, der placerer sig et sted mellem recitation og prosa. I hendes senere film bliver forbindelsen til den japanske filmskaber Yasujiro Ozu imidlertid mere eksplicit, blandt andet gennem deskriptive titler og gennem motivet med den grædende kvinde.

På et dybere plan peger forbindelsen til både Bresson og Ozu mod en filmisk praksis, hvor billedet ikke blot er noget, man ser ind i, men også en flade med sin egen sanselige tilstedeværelse og tænkning. Når man først accepterer dette, begynder elementer som lysindfald, kropsbevægelser, lyd og det stillestående kamera langsomt at træde frem og tale fra sig. Lige pludselig bliver lyden af vindens susen i trækronerne eller billedet af en kvinde, der ligger på en sten, kilden til en afgrundsdyb følelsesstrøm. Schanelec bruger hverken Bresson eller Ozu som en skabelon, men som et afsæt for en egensindig og vital udforskning af menneskelige relationer og af det, der ligger mellem det sete, det sagte og det sansede.

Få film er i sidste ende så levende som Schanelecs.

Præsenteres i samarbejde med Empire Bio.
Kopi: SBS Productions

“The World Doesn’t Know Shinji Somai”
Ryusuke Hamaguchi, 2023

“The world doesn’t know Shinji Somai”. That was the catchphrase coming with the book Yomigaeru Somai Shinji (Shinji Somai Renaissance) published in 2011, 10 years after the director’s death. Now that 10 years has passed again, does the world finally met Shinji Somai? Yes and no. Of course, several retrospectives of his films have been organized in festivals, where he found a new audience. He is still far from achieving the widespread recognition that all Somai lovers feel is his due. This is a thing that I’ve felt precisely while speaking with those involved in cinema around the world. The world still doesn’t know Shinji Somai.

Since his debut in 1980, Shinji Somai is held in the highest esteem by Japanese film fans, just as it is, let's face it, impossible for anyone making cinema in Japan today not to have Somai in mind. Of course, it is easy to imagine the difficulty of mulling over the atmosphere of early Somai films if one is not familiar with the specific context of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. At a time when, with the dismantling of the major studio production system many films were being made by parasitising other industries such as television or music Somai launched his filmography by making "idol films" relying on the popularity of the teenage girls who played the leading roles (which is reminiscent of Hou Hsiao Hsien's debut at the same period).

We often speak of the "sequence shot" or the "long shot" to characterise the stylistic feature he acquired during this period. However, nothing could be more misleading than to regard this as his 'auteurism'. Simply comparing Somai Shinji's long takes with those of Welles, Tarkovsky, Angelopoulos and others will only make his technical coarseness stand out. This could be understood as a reflection of the poor production conditions of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. But no. What he was really aiming for was first and foremost the 'sparkle of life' of the actors. In his work, the long shot allows these young women, seen as "idols", to burst through the frame from within, the better to escape. This inspires the crew, who grew up in studios, to break through the limited circumstances of the time. This 'long shot', which is a by-product of his deep trust in the vitality of the actors' and crew's bodies, is not just a directorial technique, but rather a reflection of his 'attitude to life'.

Moving (selected in Cannes Film Festival's Un Certain Regard section in 1993) is, amongst all of Somai’s films, the one which first created a contact between international audience and his entire oeuvre. However, the film did not simply end up unawarded, nor did it receive the same critical favours as Takeshi Kitano's Sonatine, which was screened in the same year and in the same section. Here again, the world and Somai replayed their failed encounter. Watching the film again today, it seems unbelievable. Especially because of the presence of the lead actress, Tomoko Tabata. Her ability to move, the expression on her face, her eyes - everything is incredible; but it is her voice that I find most captivating. This voice, which alone manages to express her whole being, which plays with distance and time as if it were breaking down all boundaries, to touch and shake the adults who play the other characters, right up to the audience. As a filmmaker, it's hard to believe that such a being could exist in a film. The images are like so much evidence of her vital energy. We are led to reflect on the fact that the life force residing there may also be in us, and we may not be making full use of it. Life, here reinstilled.

There can be no doubt that Moving is still the best gateway for "the World" and Shinji Somai to meet. You don't need to know anything about the history of Japanese cinema to understand this film, which marks a period of the highest refinement in his career, as well as having been brought to life through Tomoko Tabata’s character. But if, thanks to this film, viewers ever become interested in Shinji Somai, I would like them to see his twelve other films. Because in each of them, you will see bodies and hear voices that surprise you. Again and again. There's nothing to be surprised about. We have not yet met Somai Shinji enough.

We still don't know Somai!
Essay udgivet i pressebooklet i forbindelse med den nyrestaurede udgave af Moving.

09. April
19.00
EMPIRE (Guldbergsgade 29F, 2200 København N)
Køb billet

Tusind sole