Drak [“dragon” or “devil”] returns to his village. No one understands why he came back, or where he has been. The villagers postulate smugglers and there's other drunk nefarious thoughts, but for sure they know that with the potter, the draught returned. In an unspoken ritual sung in old tongues, the grey women summon the rain. The forest, dry as tinder, has taken the cattle, all there is. Drak knows where the animals went and a deal is struck.

“Don't you recognise me?”

– Drak

Drak sa vracia speaks in mere whispers and smoky greys. The main characters – the #fire, smoke, pottery, and composer Ilja Zeljenka's often silent motif – weave their wordless presence throughout the ancient landscape; that same landscape that carved itself into the locals' being.

“Ah, well, if you love somebody, shoot!”

– Dr. Tom Osborne

Great Highland #bagpipes, or a' phìob mhòr as they're called in Scottish Gaelic, are traditionally played on the battlefield. Peter Watkins' Culloden moves the senseless bloodshed from 1960s Vietnam to the Scottish Highlands of 1746.

“And wherever he went, he took with him his music, his poetry, his language and his children… thus within a century of Culloden, the English and the Scottish lowlanders had made secure forever their religion, their commerce, their culture, their ruling dynasty.”

– narrator

The most clearly it's seen in the men's eyes. That stare we recognise all too well from the many images that reached the west in the 60s, ever before and after.

In typical Western fashion the credits for William Klein's Festival panafricain d'Alger focusses on the French and American participants. After Algeria regained its independence in 1962, it became Africa's – and the #AfricanDiaspora's – centre for postcolonial and liberation moments.

“À bas le colonialisme ! À bas l'imperialisme !”

The 12-day Festival panafricain attracted 5000 people from all over the African continent, as well as liberation fighters from the United States.

What would you do if someone sends you a mysterious jade mask that, according to the ill-fated now-dead previous owner, causes terrifying nightmares? Well, you put it on, now! In the name of science Dr Allan Barnes (Paul Stevens) does exactly that and transports him and us – wearing our own Magic Mystic Masks – to a hallucinatory dreamworld with Zardoz-styled floating skulls and their robed devotees.

“Put the mask on, now!”

– recurring on-screen prompt

Julian Roffman's The Mask is an extremely watchable psychotronic affair. The 3D effects during the nightmarish Andreas Vesalius-inspired sequences are well implemented and yes, there's stuff flying at you for all the right reasons. Not quite #WilliamCastle gimmicky, but made with lots of love for the potential of 3D.