A woman's life is torn apart when her husband and infant son are killed in a suicide bombing at a soccer match.

Jagoda is leaving her apartment.

Pathé's factory is the scene of the action. The interior of the huge laboratory comes into view, the employer and foreman, apparently in wry intimate relations, passing through on an inspection tour. Several different news of the works follow, after which the employees are shown departing, their day's labor over. One of these going out walks up to the foreman standing nearby, and there is a heated argument because the foreman has accused the laborer of committing a number of thefts which have puzzled everybody. The naughty foreman repeats the accusation, and the laborer, indignant and furious, knocks him down with a blow. The foreman gathers himself together and promises to even accounts, while the worker's comrades restrain him from inflicting further punishment. Complainant and accused now appear before the head of the concern to settle the dispute, and the employer sides with his faithful foreman; as a result, the laborer is discharged. Now the foreman is seen as he really is. ...

A tramp who unwittingly starts a fire is chased by a mob of peasants.

In 1991, Cameron Todd Willingham's three daughters died in a Corsicana, Texas house fire. Tried and convicted for their arson murders, Willingham was executed in February 2004 despite overwhelming expert criticism of the prosecution's arson evidence. Today, Willingham's name has become a call for reform in the field of forensics and a rallying cry for the anti-death penalty movement; yet he remains an indisputable "monster" in the eyes of Texas Governor Rick Perry, who ignored the science that could have saved Willingham's life. Equal parts murder mystery, forensic investigation and political drama, INCENDIARY documents the haunted legacy of a prosecution built on "folklore."

"The image on the screen flickers unsteadily; the rhythm is unsettling: black/white, black/white, white/black. The film cuts abruptly to a playground. Color appears, sound sets in. Children crawl in the sand, adults watch over them, sitting on benches. It turns abstract. At the end a circle appears on the screen, again flickering strongly, like a beating heart. This is Incendiary Cinema. There is no such thing as a nice succession of images; the film is supposed to distress and disturb, and it also aims to create receptivity for images and viewing. It is a small, quite salutary shot before the main film." — Vienna International Film Festival

Paramount's highly-fictionalized 1945 musical biography of Texas Guinan, the Roaring '20s New York nightclub owner and celebrity with alleged underworld connections who famously greeted her customers with the phrase, "Hello, suckers!"