The Little Man lives happily in the Hollow Hill house with his beloved Majolenka. One day, the peaceful atmosphere of the neighborhood is disturbed by posters, warning of the overpopulation of the Deerers. The Robots install special “zetkoscopes” in the houses that show the horrors committed by the Deerers; they promise the inhabitants protection if they pay a fee to the Chief Protector, Dr Zetek. Those who don’t yield to his rules are interned in a labour camp “for their own good.” The Little Man starts to succumb to the growing fear, which can only be overcome jointly.

Libuše takes a picture of her reflection in a mirror. It’s a situation that keeps repeating in her life for the last 50 years. She took raw photos in the late 70s in socialist Czechoslovakia, when she looked for people who've really touched life: visitors of semi-legal gay clubs, workers on night shifts, exotic Vietnamese and Cuban immigrants, flaneurs in the night streets of communist Prague. Nudity, sex, alcohol, but also boredom and the straitjacket of normalisation. She keeps a record of everyday struggle, identity exploration, corporeality, relationships, and emotions in her pics and journals until today. The evidence is tens of thousands of negatives, preserving the transformation of body and soul over decades. What is Libuše looking for beyond the mirror?

The poignant story of a forsaken girl raised in totalitarian Czechoslovakia blends surreal visuals with the stark reality of one girl's struggle for redemption. They called her Girl America. Once a girl, now a woman. How hard can you get hit and keep moving forward? Girl America is not just a story of overcoming; it's an emotional odyssey that celebrates the resilience of the human spirit, the transformative power of hope, and the pursuit of authentic happiness beyond fairy-tale endings.

In this documentary portrait, Iva Janžurová – an icon of Czech cinema, television and theatre – is seen through the sensitive eyes of her own daughter, documentary filmmaker Theodora Remundová. This closest of all possible relationships allows the director to get unusually near to her subject. She reveals not only Iva Janžurová’s estimable present-day work but also her past career and personal life in the period context. An observational style mixes naturally with staged scenes in which photographs from Iva’s childhood and significant moments in her history are brought to life in a playful manner. We encounter important places and people, delving into not only private correspondence but the movies and theatrical productions in which she performed.
The personal theme of love – as lover, partner, mother – proves fertile ground for a passion for the acting profession, intersecting with an analytical thoroughness in her reflections on acting. An essential element is the “ordinariness” that Iva Janžurová has retained, despite her privileged position, along with her innate humanity and connection with the audience and her ambition to do her best, whether in the most remote regions of the Czech Republic and Slovakia or on the boards of the National Theatre. We get to know a woman that a large section of the Czech and Slovak public relate to, via film, TV and theatre stories and the characters she embodied, and embodies, in those fields.