Month: March 2025

Love, Anarchy, and Cinema: A Conversation with Outi Rehn of the Helsinki International Film Festival

The Helsinki International Film Festival, known as Love & Anarchy, has carved out a unique space in the global film landscape, celebrating daring and unconventional storytelling. At the heart of this festival is Outi Rehn, the head of programming, who curates a diverse selection of films that embody the spirit of anarchy and artistic risk-taking. In this interview, Rehn discusses the festival’s programming philosophy, its approach to film selection, and its commitment to cinematic diversity, while also reflecting on the evolving landscape of film festivals in a post-pandemic world.

 

Amir Ganjavie, UniversalCinema Magazine (UM): Please introduce yourself and tell me about your role in your organization.

Outi Rehn (OR): Yes, I’m Outi Rehn. I’m the head of a program at the Helsinki International Film Festival, called Love & Anarchy.

 

(UM): What kind of movies are you looking for under the label “Love and Anarchy”? Are you exclusively selecting films that touch on these themes?

(OR): It’s a useful guideline for discovering films that push boundaries. Under the theme of anarchy, we look for edgy, unconventional films. It can be difficult to define exactly what a Love & Anarchy film is, but when I see it, I just know—it has that distinctive energy.

 

(UM): Do films need to incorporate both love and anarchy, or do they focus on one or the other?

(OR): Not necessarily. A film may not contain love at all. We focus primarily on arthouse films, covering as many different countries and genres as possible. We have a small midnight section and some dark-humor comedies, all with an element of edginess.

 

(UM): Is your festival open for submissions, or do you select films independently?

(OR): The festival operates by invitation only. While we receive many film suggestions, we don’t have an official submission system, so we can’t guarantee that every film sent our way will be reviewed.

 

(UM): Does that mean you don’t prioritize premieres? Are you screening films that have already been showcased at other festivals?

(OR): Yes, we don’t require world premieres. A film may have already screened in Sweden or elsewhere in the world, but that doesn’t affect its potential to reach our audience, who likely wouldn’t have seen it elsewhere.

(UM): What defines a “good” film for your festival? Do you prioritize script, cinematography, or directorial style?

(OR): Our programming team has diverse tastes, and we include some experimental films. We seek films that bring something fresh and unexpected—something that challenges audiences.

 

(UM): When you say “experimental,” do you mean films that break traditional storytelling structures?

(OR): Yes, exactly. That’s how they fit into our broader theme of anarchy.

 

(UM): Does your programming team have individual sections, or do you collectively decide on selections?

(OR): I have the final word, but our team has broad interests. Instead of predefined sections, we build the festival organically based on the films we select each year.

 

(UM): Do you have any preferences in terms of race, gender, or sexual orientation in your film selection?

(OR): We aim for as much diversity as possible. We include many queer films, though they are not confined to a single section. Our website provides keywords so audiences can find films aligned with their interests.

 

(UM): Do you have a special section for Finnish filmmakers?

(OR): Yes. Our Finnish New Wave section highlights emerging talent. We also run an industry event called Finnish FilmAffair, which has been ongoing for 14 years, successfully connecting Finnish films with global sales agents and media.

 

(UM): Do you take political stands when selecting films? Have you ever banned films from certain countries?

(OR): Film is inherently political. We have chosen to highlight Ukrainian films rather than Russian films at this moment. It’s not an official ban, but a curatorial decision. Similarly, we’re prioritizing Palestinian filmmakers. We received backlash for donating proceeds from a Palestinian film’s screening to human rights organizations, but the support far outweighed the criticism.

 

(UM): Would you screen a well-made film with conservative themes?

(OR): We prioritize films that align with our values. If we were to screen a film with a controversial stance, it would require additional context—perhaps a Q&A or a panel discussion—to explore why we chose to include it. Our goal is to expand perspectives while maintaining respect for human dignity.

 

(UM): Have you faced external pressure regarding your film selections?

(OR): Yes, but we’ve always sought to challenge the mainstream. In the 1980s, our retrospectives featured directors like Lina Wertmüller and Derek Jarman, which was radical at the time. In the 1990s, Finnish censors blocked Nekromantik from screening, so we took the 35mm copy to Estonia and showed it there instead.

 

(UM): How many films do you screen each year?

(OR): Around 150 feature films and roughly the same number of short films. We are the largest festival in Finland.

 

(UM): When does the festival take place?

(OR): It happens in the latter half of September, right after the Venice Film Festival.

 

(UM): Do you offer any special services for filmmakers?

(OR): We invite some filmmakers, but we don’t have a competition for feature films. There’s a national short film competition for Finnish films.

 

(UM): How is the festival funded?

(OR): It is publicly funded, supported by the Helsinki city government and our national government, in addition to box office revenue.

 

(UM): Does the government influence your programming decisions?

(OR): No, we operate independently. We have complete freedom in our film selection.

 

(UM): What about venue availability? Some festivals struggle with securing screening spaces.

(OR): We have strong relationships with Helsinki’s cinemas. The festival takes over almost every theater in the city, using around 20 screens. It does create some challenges for local distributors, but it’s only for eleven days.

 

(UM): How does staffing work for the festival?

(OR): We have about five full-time employees throughout the year. Around 20-30 people join us in the months leading up to the festival. Many return annually, though we always have some new hires who bring fresh ideas.

 

(UM): Has attendance been affected by post-pandemic challenges?

(OR): Yes, the years following COVID were tough. In 2023, we still lost a quarter/fourth of our audience. But last year, we saw attendance returning to pre-pandemic levels, which is encouraging.

 

(UM): How do you handle securing films from major streaming platforms?

(OR): It’s difficult, particularly with Netflix. If I see a Netflix-acquired film, I almost immediately assume it’s unavailable. That said, audiences still come to see films on the big screen, even if they’re available online.

 

(UM): Is there anything else you’d like our readers to know?

(OR): I’ve brought our 2023 catalogue, which showcases the kinds of films we program. Each year, we commission a different artist for our festival’s branding, and our artwork travels the world through our materials.

 

(UM): Thank you for your time.

(OR): You’re welcome!

 

 

 

 

© 2020-2025. UniversalCinema Mag.

Championing Queer Cinema: An Interview with Bard Ydén of the Oslo/Fusion International Film Festival

In this conversation, Bard Ydén, the festival director of Norway’s only queer film festival, discusses the origins of the Oslo/Fusion International Film Festival, its approach to film selection, and the importance of supporting queer cinema. He also reflects on how the festival navigates difficult or controversial topics, secures venues, and overcomes staffing challenges, all while celebrating diverse voices and narratives in LGBTQ+ storytelling.

 

Amir Ganjavie, UniversalCinema Magazine (UM): Can you introduce yourself and tell me about your role in your organization?

Bard Ydén (BY): My name is Bard Ydén. I’m the festival director of the Oslo/Fusion International Film Festival. It’s the only queer film festival in Norway.
It was founded in 1990. It was called “Homofilmklubben” (the Gay Film Club) when it first started. Then it became “Skeive Filmer”, which simply means “queer films”. And then in 2015, we changed it to Oslo/Fusion so we could expand more on the programming, it felt like it was the right time.

 

(UM): And can you say more about the selection process? How do you pick movies? Is it through open submission?

(BY): We accept submissions through FilmFreeway. And then, I have a small team of screeners. So they watch the films. I watch obviously as much as I can. I watch all of their recommendations and then additional films. I’m also the senior programmer for international shorts at the Norwegian Short Film Festival, which is the only Academy Award qualifying film festival in Norway. So obviously, I get a lot of films from there as well. I’m in the middle of that programming process now. And of course I visit other festivals. I watch films, and then I have the final say in the programming. Summers are never a holiday. It’s programming time for me.

 

(UM): And do you have any kind of definition of what constitutes a good theme? What kind of movies are you mostly looking for when you say to yourself: “Okay. It’s a good movie for my festival”?

(BY): I don’t have a background in film. I met the director of my festival in 2003, and became part of the programming team the next year. So I learned by doing.
Now I pretty much just go by my personal taste and I listen to my team and the audiences.

What constitutes a good film? Storytelling is important, obviously. It can be low budget or big budget, if there’s talent and a great story, I wanna screen it. And there are so many different ways to tell a story. A couple of years ago, The People’s Joker  premiered at TIFF. It’s a highly original film by young filmmaker Vera Drew. It was pulled from TIFF after one screening after threats from Warner Brothers, because it was all based in the DC universe with Joker, Batman, and many original characters. It was an homage, directly tied to her journey as trans, and I am very happy we managed to show it in the end – and it won the Grand Jury Award. It’s a pretty good example of a DIY filmmaker who makes it work.

This year, we’re also gonna show Luca Guadagnino’s Queer, which I find absolutely mezmerizing. So we will as always present a combination of indie film and studio films, in many genres. In addition, we screen between 80 and 120 short films every year.

 

(UM): Is there any kind of region where you showed more interest or became a part of your festival in the countries?

(BY): I’m always looking for more films from the African continent.

 

(UM): Films made there are very few.

(BY): I mean, they have a big production, but not many queer films. And it’s been hard to reach, but through partnerships and friendships, I hope that we will make that work. But it’s important for me in the process to have as many countries represented as possible, because I don’t want us to… I mean, as a festival, we should experience other people’s cultures and expressions, not get stuck in our own bubble of white privilege. You know? So, yeah, I think between thirty-five and fifty countries are represented every year in the program.

 

(UM): And in terms of political stance, some festivals, for example, don’t accept movies right now from Russia or, for example, from some countries with authoritarian regimes. What about your event?

(BY): We don’t accept Russian state-funded films. But usually, Russian state-funded films aren’t really queer. Israeli state-funded films are also on the boycott list, but that doesn’t mean a personal boycott of Israeli or Russian independent filmmakers. Last year we had an Israeli filmmaker visit with her film she made at a French film school.

 

(UM): And when you are saying that you are, for example, supporting queer cinema, do you have any kind of definition of what you mean or what for you represents queer cinema?

(BY): You know, anything that strays from the heteronormative lifestyle can be seen as queer.

 

(UM): For example, I saw a movie in which the main character was in love with a chair. So I’m just curious.

(BY): I mean, sure – that could be something to consider. Absolutely. Amanda Kramer had a film, By Design, at Sundance this year, where Juliette Lewis became a chair.

 

(UM): Yeah. Yeah. I watched that movie. Very beautiful. I loved it.

(BY): I don’t think we’re gonna show it, because I don’t think we’re gonna have an audience for it. But that’s a film that could… I mean, we’ve had… probably a little bit controversial, but we had an Austrian film called The Outing. It’s about a young man who discovers that he has feelings for younger boys and he tries to get help. He’s never acted on his desires, never assaulted a child, but he’s struggling to get help from the system. And he thought by being open and making this film, that would help him, you know, not commit a crimes. And it was interesting to see how we’re so quick to label them monsters, yet not offering any help. So it’s an important film in that respect, too. And it was well received by our audience, which was good. It’s important to include difficult films as well because we are very often compared to paedophiles anyway. So, just shedding light on difficult topics and addressing them.

 

(UM): This is very interesting because the problem that sometimes I have with some festivals is that they are trying to promote a kind of left or liberal position, but they are mostly following a kind of state agenda. So they are following what the state is saying, and they are trying to define according to that, what is normal and what is abnormal. But I always consider the queer, that kind of resistance against this particular realization and going against the state. The fact that you are mentioning that you are even going against what might a state impose as a kind of normal relationship and trying to show a different way of life, is something that I really like.

(BY): With queer festivals, you know, our existence—we’ve always had to justify it or fight for it. So for queer people to simply exist, that is a political act in itself.

In 1972, homosexuality between men was decriminalized in Norway. And the first person to openly come out as a gay person was Kim Freile. She did an interview with the state TV channel, where she explained homosexuality, and very eloquently so. And everything she said on TV in January 1973 are 100% the same arguments we use today. So yes, we’ve come far in many ways, but at the same time not, because we have to justify our existence in the exact same way that she did fifty years ago. And in the US, the Stonewall riot is probably gonna happen again. We’re going backwards, and we have to be prepared to fight even more. This does not affect only the queer communities, and we must come together in a bigger way to smash fascism.

 

(UM): I had a conversation with Denis Côté because his recent new movie, “Paul,” is about a guy who has a kind of masochistic tendency, and he likes to be a slave. And we had this conversation that at the end of that movie, the movie changed himself and it posed more about himself and his experience on social media. And he became a kind of celebrity. And at the end, we came to the idea that, to what extent cinema should represent human fantasies? Because at some point, humans like to, for example, have some hidden fantasies and revealing them, all of them, through cinematic gaze might make them less interesting or might devalue them as a kind of cashier.

(BY): I don’t know if I necessarily agree with that. I think everyone wants to see themselves and their lives represented on screen. And I think representation is very important. You know, if it’s a documentary, people usually choose to participate and expose themselves, which is very admirable in so many ways. If it’s a work of fiction and the filmmaker has done their research properly, you know, I’m all for it. I think it’s great.

At Oslo/Fusion we do show sexually explicit material as well. We’ve had scripted and documentary films covering a spectrum of sexual themes, and the audience here respond well to these films. A few years ago, we presented a Sensate Films documentary called Love Hard, about BDSM. We meet several protagonists, and one couple engaging in blood play, which I thought I would struggle to watch. But the way it’s presented, and the way they so eloquently talk about it and show us, it becomes clear this is about intimacy and trust.

I FEEL LIKE THIS IN YELLOW IS REDUNDANT

 

(UM): I understand your point of view but I’m just thinking, I don’t know if you’ve read it or not, Baudrillard has a book on seduction, and when he talks about seduction, he mentions that seduction works mostly through the hidden, that if we make it very clear that we want to seduce another person, it loses its value. It loses its meaning.

(BY): Yeah, yeah. But, you know, people try to seduce other people in different ways. If I try to seduce someone, you would think that I was deranged because I cannot flirt. You know? I would love some tips. But no, I don’t. I don’t know. There’s not a lot of mystery left in the world, I feel. You know, get rid of social media for a little bit because it’s, oh my god, we’re getting dumber through social media. It’s like who needs programs like Love Island or Sex on the Beach or whatever it’s called.

 

(UM): Some festivals are struggling in terms of having regular staff. They have, for example, only temporary staff. I’m just curious how is the situation at your film festival?

(BY): What do you mean temporary staff?

 

(UM): Working for two or three months and the rest of the month, they need to work at another location. And that’s causing a kind of insecurity for people who are working. They don’t have regular jobs.

(BY): I’m the only person at the festival who is employed. The other people on the team have other jobs. So they don’t necessarily work all year round. The majority of them come in during or right before the festival. But it’s hard to find people who can commit.

 

(UM): Is it because they are needed to work in voluntarily?

(BY): Yeah. And we can’t hire them permanently. So if another job comes up, I understand completely that they have to take that because it is paid and it’s better paid. I try to pay everyone, but I can’t hire them full-time.

 

(UM): And in terms of venues, is it easy for you to secure venues? Do you have your own venue? How does it work?

(BY): Our regular venue is the Cinematheque in Oslo, which is the Norwegian Film Institute. So that’s a regular one. And then there’s another independent cinema, it’s called Vega Scene, we collaborate with. Our third venue is Salt Art & Music, an event and music stage where we’ve had screenings, sauna events, and our annual The Rocky Horror Picture Show screening with audience participation. And then there are, throughout the year, smaller places that we collaborate with, like galleries, museums, bars, clubs – you name it.

 

(UM): One of the serious challenges for many festivals is making people come to the festival, especially after COVID or after the rise of platforms or streamers. I’m just curious. How was the situation at your festival?

(BY): It was funny for us because, in 2020 and 2021 when everything was shut, there was a window, like, a two-week window during the festival. So we actually managed to have a physical festival throughout the pandemic, but at 30-50% capacity. We didn’t really see a drop in attendance which was nice.

 

(UM): I think I asked all of my questions. I wonder if there is anything that you think might be very important to mention.

(BY): I want to encourage people to support queer film festivals. There’s a lot of great films that will only play a queer festival circuit, and they deserve a larger audience. There’s so much talent in the queer community, and so many important stories, and queer films are often regarded as lesser, which is really unfair. So, yeah, support queer films and queer artists – they will enrich your lives.

Thank you for talking with me!

Instagram: @oslofusion

 

 

 

 

© 2020-2025. UniversalCinema Mag.

Supernatural: The Power of a Shaman

Can a shaman heal someone from a distance? This is the question posed by the documentary Supernatural, which follows a character who was healed remotely as a child by André Malby. Now, as an adult, she tries to contact Malby’s son to learn more about him, but the son does not believe in the supernatural.

The film crew travels to a location in Catalonia where children can read from any book while blindfolded. All of this is captured in a fascinating documentary directed by Ventura Durall, which was recently screened in the competition section of the 27th Thessaloniki Documentary Festival.

In this exclusive interview with Mo Abdi, Durall discusses the details of the film.

 

 

© 2020-2025. UniversalCinema Mag.

Black Bag: Sex, Lies, and Satellites

Black Bag, the latest feature from the seemingly tireless Stephen Soderbergh, is the kind of smart, stylish thriller we see too few of these days. Featuring a taut script from third time Soderbergh collaborator David Koepp, this spry spy flick centres the complicated marriage of two master agents at the top of their game as they attempt to navigate their way out of some very dangerous waters. Surrounding stars Cate Blanchett and Michael Fassbender with a suitably stellar supporting cast, Soderbergh crafts a fast-paced and engaging tale of modern spy craft well worth the price of admission.

Fassbender stars as British intelligence agent George Woodhouse, tasked in the opening minutes of the film with ferreting out the mole responsible for leaking a top-secret piece of software code-named Severus. The catch? His wife – fellow agent Kathryn St. Jean (Blanchett) – is at the top of a list of five possible suspects. With only a week to complete his mission, George wastes no time in rounding up the suspects… for a dinner party. They make for an interesting group: Freddie (Tom Burke), a boorish drunk, is also a savvy and calculated agent resentful at being passed over for promotion; Clarissa (Marisa Abela), satellite imagery specialist and Freddie’s much younger girlfriend; rising star James (Regé-Jean Page), recently promoted at Freddie’s expense; and agency psychiatrist Zoe (Naomie Harris), privy to all their secrets.

Fassbender’s performance is at first deceptively robotic (perhaps opaque might be a more apt description), but this opening dinner party sequence serves not only as a delicious aperitif to the audience, but illuminates a great deal about the complexities of his character, his marriage, and how he’s viewed by the people who surround him. Having dosed his guests with truth serum, George masterfully pushes their buttons, teasing out all manner of fascinating revelations and tensions simmering barely beneath the surface. Only Kathryn, already warned off the chana masala, escapes with her composure intact.

Of course, when a spy’s inhibitions are unknowingly lowered in this way, they may not stop at spilling their own secrets, and luckily for the audience, Freddie knows a few of George’s as well. Legendary amongst his colleagues for his unflagging devotion to his wife and marriage, George clearly lives by a strict moral code. It may not be the one you and I might live by, but it is nothing if not well defined. Indeed, far from robotic or cold, George is a deeply passionate man, as evidenced by the sordid family tale revealed by his drunken underling. Once tasked with surveilling his own father (also an agent, and inveterate – but careful – cheater), George took the opportunity to finally catch him in the act, ruthlessly exposing him at a family dinner. Here is a man whose rage is tamped down deep, but whose loyalty knows – quite literally – no bounds. Adhering slavishly to his own personal code, under the right circumstances, he will burn the house to the ground to protect those that he truly loves. The count, as far as I can tell, includes only his mother… and Kathryn.

Having thrown the rock in the proverbial water (as George so eloquently puts it), we then have the pleasure of observing the ripples. To reveal too many twists and turns would spoil the fun, but suffice it to say the film is full of such smartly executed set pieces – the polygraph sequence is a notable standout – with each one leaving you more confused about who is truly playing whom. The dim, fuzzy photography might be an acquired taste, but it’s a hallmark of the Soderbergh style, and Black Bag is a film that has his name written all over it. Subtly recalling elements of his previous efforts, I could have spotted the prolific director’s fingerprints a mile away, a distinctiveness all the more impressive give the breadth and variety of his filmography. As the film careened towards its speedy conclusion, I found myself questioning whether or not Soderbergh had completely stuck the landing. Nevertheless, despite a few loose ends here and there, it was still one hell of a fun ride.

Black Bag is currently screening in cinemas across North America.  

 

 

 

 

© 2020-2025. UniversalCinema Mag.

Souleymane’s Story: Cycling Around Paris to Find Solace and Safety

Boris Lojkine, the French director whose film Hope won the SACD Prize at the 2014 Cannes Film Festival and narrated a migrant story, has returned with Souleymane’s Story, a story about a Guinean asylum seeker who cycles around Paris, the most romantic city in the world, not for the sake of love and life but for survival and identity. Souleyman, a courier who delivers food to various customers, captivates us with his journey through the streets of Paris. From the scattered remnants of his thoughts about a political faction he barely touched to his urgent race through the city’s maze as he strives to board the last bus to his temporary haven, the film paints a vivid picture of the relentless, anxiety-filled pace that permeates Souleymane’s life.

As Souleymane navigates the street to find the customer’s address, her deep eyes penetrate the truth of life—the geographical limitation. The destined man endures the hardships of a life he never chose. Souleyman is begging for his mundane rights from anyone around, whether it is the man who is training him how to fabricate a political story for his interview or Emmanuel, who ignores him while he is asking for his money. Every day, we encounter this bitter and familiar new narrative. It serves as a stark reminder of the countless individuals trapped in cycles of despair, where their aspirations are overshadowed by the weight of systemic barriers. As Souleyman navigates this harsh reality, he clings to the hope that one day he will break free from the constraints that bind him, seeking a life filled with dignity and purpose.

Boris Lojkine glimpses the African diaspora while Souleymane encounters them through cycling around Paris. To some extent, at the same level, they bring out the common pain of being cast into an unknown world not for the betterment of life but to survive. He planned to film Souleymane’s Story in the streets of Paris, capturing all the challenges he encountered throughout the process. The camera movement with Souleymane on the bicycle and following every single moment with him gives an uncertain feeling to the audience, as all asylum seekers are around the world. This immersive technique not only highlights Souleymane’s struggles but also evokes empathy in viewers, drawing them into the harsh realities faced by many. By presenting the rawness of his journey, the film aims to spark a conversation about displacement and resilience, urging audiences to reflect on their own perceptions of migration.

Souleymane is preparing for a pivotal interview at OFPRA, a critical juncture in his asylum quest, which is just two days away. In this crucial interim, he turns to Barry (Alpha Oumar Sow), a seasoned broker who offers not only his expertise in navigating the labyrinthine immigration process but also the reassurance of knowing that his paperwork is in capable hands. As they sift through the documents together, Souleymane clings to hope, each signature a step closer to a future filled with possibility. First-time actor Abou Sangare, who portrays Souleyman with his good-natured, hard-working manner and handsome features, catches eyes and asks who is playing the role so plausibly. And the most impressive part of his acting is where he struggles between the bafflement and reality. He is trying to believe and repeat a fallacy that has no place in his life; however, his traumatised life with his sick mother since childhood is a cynical tale that could move any interviewer. As the director said, the story of Soleymane’s sick mother was a real one of Abou Sangare’s. Boris Lojkine believes that he has learnt a lot from the process of filming, and the actors have brought him a sense of joy by showcasing the tangible world of African refugees.

Lojkine’s taut, honed screenplay, co-written by Delphine Agut (Inshallah a Boy), coupled with Tristan Galand’s cinematography, made a grounded and sober narration on Souleymane’s unsteady bicycle. Such a trembling moment, nestling in the depths of human neverending pain, was depicted. Beauty does not captivate Paris; instead, we witness a Guinean asylum seeker relentlessly striving to overcome his ultimate destiny. The crux of the conflict emerges in the interview room as he sits down to decide between truth and falsity.

The declared film premiered in the Un Certain Regard section of the 2024 Cannes Film Festival, where it received both the Jury Prize and the Performance Prize. Souleymane’s Story garnered eight nominations for the 50th César Awards, including Best Film, and won four: Best Supporting Actress (Nina Meurisse), Best Male Revelation (Sangare), Best Original Screenplay, and Best Editing.

 

 

 

 

© 2020-2025. UniversalCinema Mag.

Montreal Critics Week: A New Space for Bold Cinema and In-Depth Discussion

In its inaugural year, Montreal Critics’ Week has already made a name for itself by focusing on thoughtful curation and extensive discussions with filmmakers. Co-founded by film critic and programmer Mathieu Li-Goyette alongside collaborator Ariel Esteban Cahier, the festival showcases a diverse selection of titles without imposing competitive or thematic constraints. By creating a communal viewing experience—often featuring triple bills and long-form panels—Montreal Critics Week aims to spotlight lesser-seen cinema, nurture emerging voices, and foster rigorous debates about film and its cultural impact.

 

Amir Ganjavie, UniversalCinema Magazine (UM): Can you introduce yourself and tell me about your program, your role in your organization?

Mathieu Li-Goyette (MLG): Yes. So my name is Mathieu Li-Goyette. I’ve been a film critic now for eighteen years. I’m also a film programmer. I’ve curated numerous retrospectives at the Cinematheque Quebecoise in Montreal. Also in other festivals, I was a guest programmer at the Berlin Critics Week in 2018. And it’s basically where I encountered this formula of having double bills and triple bills and then panels of discussion and debates after the screenings. It had a very big influence on me.

Then after that, I came back to Berlin every year to attend the festival, but also to attend the critic’s week. And then finally last year, me and a very good friend of mine, Ariel Esteban Cahier, who was for more than ten years a programmer at the Fantasia Film Festival, we arrived at the point where my colleague, Ariel, lost his job at Fantasia. And we’ve been wanting to build a project together—a festival project—for a couple of years now. And then when that happened, we saw a good alignment to do something.

So we decided to create this Montreal Critics’ Week, which is very inspired by the Berlin Critics’ Week. We managed to get enough support, but mainly, we used the savings of our film magazine, Panorama Cinema, to build this first edition. Then we got the support of the Montreal Council for the Arts, and a couple of other sponsors and partners, like MUBI, came in and we managed to do the first edition.

 

(UM): How is the selection process in your festival? How do you pick up the movies? Is it through open submission? How do you get to know?

(MLG): For the first edition, we didn’t have open submissions. We wanted to do some scouting and find our own identity also. We were lucky because, as we’ve been in the cinema industry for a couple of years now, we’ve had good contacts and a good network to pull from—for example, people from the Berlin Critics Week, people who Ariel knew when he was working as a programmer at Fantasia. So throughout our contacts, and also other filmmakers that we’ve come to know throughout the years as film critics, we were finally able to have a list—a long list—of films for consideration.

Then, we assembled a programming committee composed of film critics, in partnership with the AQCC, which is the Association Québécoise des critiques de cinéma, the Quebec Film Critics Association. Through that association, we got two who were not in our team—Justine Smith, who writes for Cult Montreal, Little White Lies, and Rogerebert.com, and Mélopée B. Montminy, who wrote for another Quebec magazine called 24 images. The others were people from our magazine like Olivier Thibodeau from Panorama Cinema. It’s the five of us who saw the film and had discussions about them.

Our festival doesn’t have any sections. So basically, our entire team needs to agree on a film for us to program it. Also, what added a layer of complexity is that, obviously, most of the time when you program a festival, you program the films that you love. We do program films that we love, of course, but after that, we have to find some agency between the films—like, to be able to make triple bills or double bills through a thematic programming. So we really needed to find films that fit together, and also find films for which we could invite the filmmakers and have them in our discussion. It needed to be a good fit, you know?

Because I guess that one thing that is particular with our festival is that we do not sell tickets for individual films. We sell tickets for programs. So these are triple bills, most of the time—three films (shorts, mid-length, feature films, fiction, documentary, experimental). So it’s like three hours of screening. And then after, we do a sixty-minutes discussion. So, like, it begins at 7 PM and ends almost around midnight.

 

(UM): And how many films in total have you selected?

(MLG): We had 15 features and then four shorts, if I remember correctly.

 

(UM): And, most of them were Montreal premieres? How was that?

(MLG): We had a couple of world premieres, which we were really happy about—especially for the first edition, that some filmmakers were confident in giving us their world premiere. Lots of international premieres also, North American premieres, and Canadian premieres. I wouldn’t say that we’re that much into the premiere race thou, also because we’re non-competitive – and we want to remain like that. But at the same time, I guess it’s telling because the main motivation that we had to start this festival is that throughout the last years covering other festivals in other places in the world as film critics, we saw so many great films that never came to Montreal.

And in that, we are really lucky because in Montreal, we have lots of different film festivals that have different specializations. And, of course, those festivals cannot show everything—we really understand that. At the same time, I’d say we have this kind of problem: we don’t have a lot of art house cinema, so we don’t have a lot of local distributors. And then in return, I think that a lot of festivals locally put the pressure on themselves to be a “festival of festivals” and take in the big films that had prizes elsewhere—Cannes, Locarno, Berlin. So it leaves very little space for small films and new voices, new filmmakers. Again, it’s nothing against these other bigger festivals in Montreal, but we really felt there was a need—or at least a space—to create something different and more focused.

Because I think that what we want to create with our Montreal Critics’ Week is a space of concentration. You are always in the same theatre, a bit always with the same people. The filmmakers go on the panel, but they’re also coming back throughout the week. And on the panels, we have other people as well—moderated by film critics, but also featuring people from other walks of life. Like, we had novelists, professors, philosophers, I mean, writers of any kind, musicians, cartoonists—people who are not necessarily in the movie industry but that we think can add something interesting to the discussion. By having this concept, we really wanted to create a space that cared for the film and managed to put the filmmakers in the spotlight for a long time.

On our poster you see the filmmakers’ names on it. They really are the stars of the show. And one of the feedbacks we received from this first edition—from sometimes first-time filmmakers or people who are really at the beginning of their career—is how it never happens, basically, to have sixty minutes in front of an audience when you are at the start of your career. I mean, to learn to speak in front of an audience, to talk about your work, to interact with other artists—it’s not a given. Some people are very good at it. Others need practice. It’s normal, I think, but it’s hard to get experience on that front, also because most of the time, some filmmakers have lots and lots of exposure compared to others, so this gap is widening. I’d say that implicitly, it’s also one of the goals of our festival.

 

(UM): And considering the fact that it was the first edition, how was the reception, in terms of ticket sales or attendance?

(MLG): It went beyond our expectations. We had a 98% occupancy rate. It was sold out every day—completely sold out. I mean, there’s not a seat left in the house. Because, of course, as in any festival, you have some no-shows, some people are just not coming, but every day we had rush lines, and every day the theater was completely full. Except for one screening, I basically didn’t get the chance to sit at my own festival.

 

(UM): And what did you use for advertising even though it was the first time? Is it networking?

(MLG): We printed flyers, printed these programs that we distributed around town. We have a partnership that I’m very proud of with a local college, Maisonneuve College. They helped us to get some volunteers. And then the volunteers from the college helped us to get the word around and distribute the flyers and catalogs.

In exchange for that, in April, in a bit more than a month, we’ll do a redux version of the festival at the college with one night of our programming for the students. And we will do a panel of discussion after the screening, but this time the guests will be the students, and I will be the moderator. That’s something we really want to push forward for next year because I think it’s really important to build the next generation of audience and cinephile and to be assured they are not only influenced by Netflix and streaming platforms and the big hype stuff. And I think it’s something that needs to be passed on. When I say college, it’s Cégep in Quebec—it’s the first place where you can go into a cinema program. We want to start at that base, not wait for graduate students at the university. That more pedagogical way of catering to the public is very important for us.

 

(UM): And in terms of what you offer to filmmakers apart from inviting them to come and participate in the event, did you offer any kind of monetary awards?

(MLG): We don’t offer any prize. It’s noncompetitive. But obviously, we are trying to find the monetary means to make it possible for them to come to Montreal. And we were really happy because, in the first year, we had twelve filmmakers in attendance. So obviously, one of our next goals will be to have all the filmmakers here with us because it’s really based on discussion.

 

(UM): And in terms of selection, do you have a kind of quota in mind, or is it just mostly based on artistic merit?

(MLG): What do you mean by a quota?

 

(UM): Race quota, gender quota, nation quota.

(MLG): No. We don’t have a quota. We have goals. We want to be inclusive, of course. I mean, it’s a very natural domino effect, you know, because what’s important for us is to have good programs. And for us to have good programs, of course, we need good films. We also need interesting filmmakers, and through that also the need to have interesting discussions. So what is an interesting discussion in 2025 or 2026?

For us, it’s to have discussions on cinema and politics, on decolonization, on how you film poverty, how you address it, how you tell stories of migrations—contemporary subjects. So, of course, if we want to talk about these subjects, very naturally, we will have films that are both signed by men and women and by filmmakers from Asia or Europe or Latin America. We’ll have stories about Indigenous people, of course, because we’re in Canada. These subjects unfold themselves very naturally, because we want to speak about them. But we are not working from the get-go on a quota basis.

 

(UM): As a Canadian, I know one of the issues is that Canadian filmmakers do not have enough space to represent their works. Montreal’s situation is different compared to the rest of Canada, but I’m just curious if you have any special spotlight section of Canadian movies.

(MLG): We don’t have any kind of section, as we don’t want the festival to be competitive. We don’t want to compartmentalize the films. For example, we had two Palestinian movies in our lineup. And, of course, we discussed within our team: do we put them together and have a program on this, or do we separate them and make sure that the discussion on this— I mean, the occupation and genocide that is going on— we cannot dodge it. We need to address it. We don’t want to stick them together and do a thematic programming that would really corner the attention to one place or the other. That approach applies across our program. The same goes for Canadian filmmakers. They are spread across the program, and we don’t really make any distinctions. For us, it’s cinema, and it’s about artists that have something to say.

 

(UM): And in terms of the timing for the event, I see that it’s happening in January. Why did you pick this moment? Because I know it’s a very winter time, so I’m just curious.

(MLG): Thank you for that question. There’s a couple of arguments. The first is that, as we work in a sort of counter-programming stance toward the other big festivals in town, it’s easier for us to wait for their programming to be done, and then we can fill in the cracks. Because at the end of the day, we are not that much into a race of getting a premiere before the other big festivals in town. Our priority is for these films to be seen. So if a bigger festival shows it, we’re happy with that. It’s okay.

There’s that. Also, we love the idea of having this kind of “bookending” of the year. Adding the festival at the beginning of January, it’s easier for us to have a good view of what happened in the year before—what cinema was like the year before. So we like to think about it as a kind of portrait of the very important or very singular themes for us that went on through the films last year.

It’s also why, from one edition to the next, we never work with preconceived themes. We really wait to listen to the films. And while watching the films, some themes emerge. But I don’t know what will be the themes for the second edition; I don’t want to know in advance. I want to discover them. Also, we don’t really have any film festivals in Montreal during winter. I find it nice because Montreal and Quebec—it’s a winter country, and it’s nice to have films from abroad in winter. It’s a change of pace.

It’s easier also because the festival is so demanding on the public—the screenings are long, the discussions are long. There’s something cozy about having them in January. You’re kind of tucked in together in a theater in Downtown Montreal. It was a very beautiful first edition for us. People were hanging together throughout a winter storm, and it’s minus 25 outside, and you find a refuge in the cinema. I like that idea a lot.

 

(UM): And in terms of venue, because securing venues is not always easy for festivals, I’m just curious how the situation is in your festival.

(MLG): In fact, it was a bit hard to find our venues. As I said, we have lots of film festivals in town, so the venues are very in demand. And most venues, of course, have their own programming. So we were able to secure two theaters for that first edition: the Cinémathèque Québécoise and the Cinéma Moderne. It was only one venue at a time, and eventually, during the week, we switched to the Moderne, and then for the closing night, we switched back to the Cinémathèque.

It went very well. Of course, the vibes are different because they’re different venues—one is more institutional, the other is more of a micro cinema with a bar and stuff, so it’s different. We like them both. Obviously, in a perfect world, the festival would be in the same spot. But we are hopeful to find one for the second edition. We have some venues in mind, and we’re already working on that.

 

(UM): And my last question, what will be your goal for the second edition? Do you have any specific goals for the second edition or your ideal?

(MLG): I’d say to get more funding, of course. It’s always hard to start a festival. We were lucky because we have the magazine backing it up, but of course, the magazine took a toll because of that. We don’t want the festival to hurt the magazine, and we want to keep the magazine alive. So it’s kind of a balancing act. I guess that throughout the next year and the upcoming years, the more financing we can find just for the festival, the better it will be for keeping the magazine’s funds intact.

We’d also like to have even more filmmakers. We might have a bit fewer feature films and a bit more shorts or mid-length films, just because our evenings were very long. I think it was very interesting, and as I said, it was basically sold out every evening, and people kept coming back. What we saw was that people were really not accustomed to that kind of formula, at least in Montreal. So our first two days were sold out pretty quickly, and then after people saw the formula, they booked tickets for the rest of the week while the week was going on. It worked in that way. But at the same time, I’d say because the program was so long, we missed some time for discussion. I would love the discussions to be longer because they’re so interesting, and people are staying, and filmmakers are loving it.

So, yeah, I think we stretched it a bit for the first edition—maybe just to show that we could do it. But we’ll adjust and fine-tune some things. Even when I say that, it’s nothing drastic. We’re really happy and proud of what we did, especially with the kind of resources that we have.

 

 

 

© 2020-2025. UniversalCinema Mag.

New York Asian Film Festival: A Conversation with President and Executive Director Samuel Jamier

In this conversation, Samuel Jamier, President and Executive Director of the New York Asian Film Festival and Foundation, offers insights into the festival’s origins, its focus on Asian cinema, and his personal take on programming criteria. He reflects on the influence of globalization and streaming services on film curation, discusses the challenges of staffing and funding in the U.S. festival landscape, and explains his vision for showcasing films in a city as diverse and demanding as New York.

 

Amir Ganjavie, UniversalCinema Magazine (UM): What’s your role in your organization?

Samuel Jamier (SJ): I’m Samuel Jamier. I’m the president and executive director of the New York Asian Film Festival and Foundation.

 

(UM): Can you tell me more about your festival? What kind of movies are you looking for? Is it for all the regions of Asia?

(SJ): So, it’s focused on the Asia region, which for us, because of its origin, started as a genre showcase of specifically Hong Kong films. Although we did show films from South Asia, that has come to decline a little bit, that part of the world for us. So we’re quite focused on East Asia.

What kind of films are we looking for? You know, I’m gonna give you a very American response. It’s the other way around. It’s, okay: great storytelling. I have my idea of really… I mean, cinema is a very impure art in a way. There’s a French philosopher who calls it the most impure art form. By that, you could say it’s hybrid. It’s just a combination of different arts, right? There’s drama in there, there’s literature in a sense, there’s photography and music. So, to me, that means you use all these elements, and you have an experience of, I don’t know, ninety minutes, two hours, and it takes you somewhere at the end of it, you know? It transforms you in a sense. So that’s the kind of film I’m looking for.

 

(UM): So, you are looking for movies with good stories, that are very good at combining different art forms and creating a unique experience.

(SJ): Yeah. Something unique and fun. I think I do believe in film as mass entertainment, something with broad appeal. Accessibility. You know, again, running a film festival in New York and America, that’s kind of central to the concept of cinema, right? It’s the largest commercial industry in the world—arguably, China is also massive, and India’s…

 

(UM): But you mentioned that you started with a genre of cinema. Genre cinema usually uses a kind of predefined format, and they’re trying to play with that format and not going too much out of the formula. So how does it fit with your current goal?

(SJ): Well, first of all, that was the beginning of the festival. It started quite differently. It was heavily focused on Hong Kong films because the founders—I’m not one of the founders—joined the festival at its midpoint, a halfway point now. I joined it in 2012, if I recall correctly, as a programmer of Japanese films and then Korean films. So, I joined to help out with the selection of films from Japan and Korea. And then later on, a year or two later, I took over the artistic direction.

Because of its DNA, the festival was started by a group of fanboys who loved kung fu films. The last Chinatown theatre in New York closed down in the early 2000s. So at the time, the idea was to try and preserve that film culture and continue to show it. So that’s where it’s coming from, and I try to maintain that and not completely drift too far from this point of origin. So it’s quite central to what we do.

Having said that, I mean, what does genre mean? I’m often asked to talk about it. You have a set of conventions, but you alluded to it yourself—I mean, you can do whatever you want with it, in a sense. You can do whatever you want with it. In a sense, you operate… What is not a genre? It’s easy to argue that arthouse film, which we tend to oppose to genre film, is also a form of genre film. It has tropes of long takes and a certain type of cinematography. So I’m looking for something that’s innovative within a certain number of conventions as well.

 

(UM): How do you define Asian cinema?

(SJ): I tend to follow what’s… to respect the legacy of what was created. Our definition of Asia—Asia, in a sense, doesn’t really exist. Asia is a definition from the outside. I mean, you know, when I lived in Japan—to give you an example, I lived in Japan between 1999 and 2001 roughly. I speak decent Japanese, I would say, without being 100%, but I can read, write, and so on. So when I lived there, you would sometimes find you would go eat—sometimes we would have “Asian restaurants.” So first of all, at the time, I discovered, to an extent, Japanese people, at least during that era, did not really see themselves as Asian. You know? So Asian restaurants were something exotic. You would walk into an Asian restaurant, it was indicated they would serve you Korean food, Vietnamese food, and Thai food.

I lived in the UK… at the time, and I believe that’s still the case largely, “Asians” meant South Asians. You know? The first time, there was a group called Asian Dub Foundation or something—they were all South Asians. Do you know what I mean? So I think it’s very much a definition from the outside.

I mean, you look at groups that have some similarities, a certain set of family values, and so on, which, you know, I tend to think some of them are pretty universal sets of values—just a view from the outside again. So you’re gonna have the South Asian block if you want, and then people who use Chinese characters, let’s say, broadly speaking, what people who don’t know anything like to call “Confucian values.” I hate the usage of the word. Usually, it’s completely off the mark.

To me, Asia is a constructed idea—a functional fiction that I work within. And due to the way the festival was started, to me, that means countries of East Asia. But we look everywhere, like Central Asia, South Asia. I would love to restore a place there, but you have also—I mean, you run a film festival. Right? To an extent, it’s an operation that’s run with money, with sponsors, and so on. So there’s a fair amount of practical considerations I have to take into account. That limits—I have limited space. I can’t show 200, 300 films, right? So that is one of the issues I’m facing now. But hopefully, I’ll be able to fix it as soon as I can.

But again, to me, the idea of Asia as a single, unified entity is largely an external construct. Different cultures within Asia don’t always identify with this broad label, and I think it’s important to challenge how the West categorizes Asian cinema

 

(UM): So in practical terms, for example, if there is a filmmaker from Asian descendants, do you consider him as an Asian filmmaker?

(SJ): It depends on what he has to say about where you’re coming from. It has to do with origin, your point of origin. I mean, you can be… Look at Chloe Zhao, right? She’s a Chinese-born director. I mean, oh, what happened to her? When you think about it, what is she doing? I didn’t track that very carefully. Look at Nomadland—I mean, I don’t know, what would you call that? That’s not really an Asian film in any sense, right? Mickey 17, I haven’t seen it, but I would argue that’s hardly an Asian movie. a film directed by an Asian director… To me, okay, it’s an open question, really. I’m not gonna say—I don’t wanna fall into the trap of telling people, “This is what you are.” I mean, that’s pretty much the disease of our age, like, “Who am I?” You know? In my view, in the programmer’s view, maybe they feel differently, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s supposed to be a question mark. And when there’s a question mark like this… yeah. But I don’t know any—yeah.

 

(UM): Because of globalization, festivals around the world are starting to look more and more alike. Do you see this as a potential challenge for a festival like yours?

(SJ): Absolutely. I agree. Well, I mean, you know, it’s also due to that there’s still a dominance of European standards —like, for example, .Many international festivals tend to favor a certain aesthetic when it comes to Asian films—often reflecting European tastes more than regional diversity. This is something I’m mindful of in our own programming, and we try to balance artistic innovation with broader representation

That explains we’re just talking about it, “fascination.” Fascination? There’s sometimes a preference for a certain type of Asian film—one that emphasizes slow pacing, visual poetry, and rural aesthetics. While these films have artistic value, it’s important to also showcase the full range of contemporary storytelling from the region.

Also, I mean, you know, there’s a category of filmmakers: they get trained at NYU, France. So they also adopt some of these standards. I’m not saying these films are not interesting, but you have to see who the people who make these films are and who the people who show them are, and you see a convergence. And that’s where you see sort of a global landscape with a similar type of films that goes everywhere.

I mean, okay, well, let me name one name that’s just so obvious: Hong Sang-soo. You know, that’s—it’s so obviously catering to certain types of clienteles. I mean—and that’s an enigma to me. Again, let me not—okay, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying Hong Sang-soo is not a great filmmaker, but you have to take into account the fact that he’s mostly praised and exhibited, curated, by people with a heavy focus on European film, and usually who don’t actually speak a word of Korean, which is really puzzling to me, because these are films that are heavily reliant on dialogue. So that really raises some questions, you know? Again, I proceed—I’m not trying to find solutions to the enigma of world cinema, but I try to ask myself these questions constantly and redefine every year. What does that mean?

I end up showing some of these films. I mean, it’s true, some of these films make it into our program. Sometimes I’m like, “This raises interesting aesthetic questions, ethical questions. It has something to say about the country. So how come you have a certain type of middle-class, upper-middle-class filmmaker making this type of film?” There might be some value to showing that, right?

 

(UM): And you are mentioning Bong Joon-ho. Was there any kind of ‘parasite effect’ in your market?

(SJ): Oh, absolutely. Bong Joon-ho was sort of a landmark moment, for sure, around the world. I mean, it’s the first time—well, at the time, I was like, obviously, going to win the international… they used to call it the foreign film category, okay? The international film category, right? So that was pretty clear. The fact that he won the Oscar for Best Movie—I think it was a shock to everybody, including its filmmakers. it was a landmark moment. Very critical in introducing, in opening up European and—well, Western taste, right?

So all of a sudden, you have a film… you’re not anymore like the “global South,” they call it, I guess, or like “the rest.” The West and the rest. So as of now, you have an intrusion from the outside, and you see—being Korean-born, to me it was incredible to see that, a very moving moment. You know, I’ve been introducing Korean films since 2007. And I did this early-career retrospective of Bong Joon-ho in 2007. So that’s quite something, to see that on screen. I mean, at the time, in 2007, that was the year Magnolia released, the company Magnolia, The Host, right—that monster movie, genre movie. So that was definitely a defining moment, quite important.

But more important than Bong Joon-ho to me, in the sense of the Squid Game and the Korean TV drama phenomenon, because that is truly mainstream. Now, there’s sort of increasingly, I find, a divorce between the masses and film. There’s a crisis of commercial cinema, I believe.

 

(UM): This might be a bit tangential, but thinking about Bong Joon-ho’s success with Parasite—winning both the Palme d’Or at Cannes and the Oscar for Best Picture—makes me wonder if it marked a turning point for U.S. cinema. It feels like the same movies now sweep multiple major festivals, blurring the lines between independent and commercial films. Do you think this indicates a loss of unique identity for American cinema, or that Hollywood no longer values its own film culture after Parasite?”

(SJ): I don’t think Americans don’t believe in their films anymore, you know? There’s still, like—since we’re talking about Bong, like, the subtitle barrier, right? So a lot of the stuff gets dubbed on Netflix and so on, so there’s still—I do believe it’s opened the field to foreign-language films for sure.

I think the crisis is within American commercial cinema itself, namely Hollywood. I mean, there’s a narrative crisis, you know, we’ve been talking—I mean, it’s been beaten to death now. It’s, like, very popular to trash superhero movies. And I don’t think there’s much of a point in engaging in this because, I mean, it’s a fact. I mean,

What you’re describing, the fact that you’re seeing the same films everywhere, it’s a network. Like, everyone knows each other. I’ve been seeing the same folks for the past ten years, roughly speaking. It’s musical chairs. They go, in some cases, they move from company to company, but fundamentally the major players remain roughly the same. There’s a new generation emerging, but it’s pretty much the same. Like, for all this talk—well, now it’s being reversed—the talk about DEI, you know. I was at an industry event in Chinatown, and it struck me that despite working in film, many attendees had little familiarity with Asian culture. It was a stark reminder of how insular the industry can be, even in a diverse city like New York.

So you see the limitations. Despite all of this, America remains very inward-oriented, I mean politically and all that, it’s very visible. Extraordinarily inward-oriented.

So it’s opened some barriers, but I think it has some limits. And to go back to what you were describing, like, okay, you have this in China—these are people, they all know each other. At some point, you know, it’s the same for wrappers. Then they move. One guy programs for Berlin, and then next thing you know, it’s different, you know? So the same stuff gets shown.

 

(UM): And one of the major problems with many festivals is about securing the venue. So I’m just curious, how is the situation in your case? Do you have your own venue?

(SJ): My dream, my ultimate goal, is really to have our own venue. Of course, that would be fantastic. I think there’s enough space and appetite—well, it’s an appetite you have to create—but I would like to have a space dedicated to Asian cinema, again, whatever that means. And open it up, show films from the Middle East, from Central Asia—these are very rare films to see at festivals, right, let alone in theatres in general.

Well, we’ve been lucky enough. We’ve had a very strong partnership with Film at Lincoln Center. So in terms of the cost and the availability, I mean, it’s almost a given. Like, every year, I don’t have to ask myself the question. The festival as a whole, very clearly—there hasn’t been a doubt in my mind for years, like, that’s who we work with. We’re basically—it’s a client organization. There’s no hostility now, you know. So that comes into play. That’s not a huge preoccupation. We’re lucky enough that New Yorkers are very supportive of the arts. We’ve also expanded. We had an event at the SVA Theatre—excellent relations as well. The SVA’s theatre belongs to the School of Visual Arts, right? So there’s an educational value to it. We’re in a great place.

New York is good. I would like for New York to have better theatres. The art house theatres—I don’t know why you have to sit in these shitty seats. I don’t get it, you know? So I wish the standards would go up a little, and that’s why I wish I had our own venue. Having said that, we also use a small multiplex, Luxe Cinemas, a relatively new entity. Again, this is someone very supportive of the arts. The deal I’ve made with them is great, so I really can’t complain. It’s not like everything is rosy, but at least on the venue side, it’s not a huge issue.

 

(UM): Many festivals have just temporary people who are working for them. And this causes a kind of anxiety. They need to work for a few months, and they don’t know what they should do for the rest of their life. I wonder, what is the situation at your festival?

(SJ): So again, I’ve been quite lucky. I don’t know, maybe I have some kind of gold or something, but, like, people work with me and work with me for a long time. After that—on the programming side, it’s a pretty stable team. Well, all of them have a day job, I’ll be honest. I mean, I have one dedicated staffer in the programming as well as myself. They review films all year long. They seek films, like, twelve months a year. So in that sense, I’ve been lucky.

Having said that, I mean, I wish there were better ways of paying staff. I rely on a lot of volunteer labor, and that’s not great. I mean, ethically speaking, there are crazy questions, but I can’t make up money we don’t have. Do you know what I mean? So what I do sometimes comes at a personal cost to me as well nowadays. I’m like, it’s a lot of sacrifices. And that’s when America, in particular, has a serious problem. I think Americans don’t take culture very seriously. A lot of the funding—like, first of all, I mean, it’s not gonna get better, right? The funding from the state is ridiculous. I mean, it’s zero. There’s a reason why European film festivals tend to dominate. It’s just—I mean, they have state support. I mean, you have governments that care about the preservation of their culture, the prestige and the importance of culture in everyday life, and not just the fucking economy and money. Obviously, these operations have to be operated with funding.

So Americans… it’s hard for me to respect the big international film festivals in America. I don’t think those are great. I mean, none of them are particularly outstanding in my view. They’re very world-oriented, very American, you know, so that’s not good for me.

 

(UM): I sometimes feel that Us festivals become very politicized, and care not enough about film as an art from.

(SJ): Yeah. You’re 100% right. You’re 100% right. You are from Toronto, correct?

 

(UM): Yes, I’m from Toronto, right?

(SJ): You understand. So just to go back to your question one second: it’s significant to me, it’s significant in general, that the most important film festival in the Americas is not in the US, it’s in Canada. The Toronto International Film Festival, I would say, has a lot more prestige than any of the other American film festivals. I think a lot of industry people would argue it’s an interesting film festival. Their programmers are really quite good. A few of my friends work there—they do have really outstanding programmers, really great programming. I mean, I don’t always agree with their choices, and the idea that now it’s part of the Oscars race is pretty questionable to me. But having said that, I mean, it’s a great operation.

Just talking about, you see that it’s a country that cares about culture. You see it, sort of in a central position, as opposed to decluttering. So, in terms of, like, the move away from the story—yeah, 100%. I think a lot of it is, it’s associated with corporate, a sense of corporate responsibility. So, like, people from private equity firms find that you need to say something about this and that, but it’s ideology-driven. It’s not very well thought out. I mean, I think obviously, it has to do, of course, with course correction. You have a large number of ethnic groups, as well as people with different sexualities that are underrepresented, sure. That should be shown. Of course.

So there was, at some point, an attempt at course correction. I thought it was very poorly, if at all, thought out. So what does that mean? That means you have a bunch of ideas and criteria that are inserted into films without actual integration into the narrative. So you really try to fit—what’s the question?—a square peg in a round hole or a round peg in a square hole? It’s not a great fit. So you have stories that are very artificially designed to represent this or that minority group. I mean, for example, when it comes to historical dramas, you end up straying very far from the historical truth, and you’re telling a lie to yourself. You’re trying to reflect on the past with what’s in the present. And, I mean, we know, racism has been around for a long time. I come from an area where I was the only Asian person who grew up in my area, the only non-white person. And some Hollywood guy is gonna show up, make a movie about Brittany. So I grew up in Brittany, you know, northwestern France. It’s gonna be, okay, let’s have 20%… it’s a lie. That’s just not the way the region was. There were very few immigrants or, you know, people like me, and it doesn’t reflect the truth.

So, to go back to what you’re saying,absolutely, it’s just poorly thought-out collective sort of… — poorly thought-out course correction of social wrongs. When it’s done like that, I mean, you have a backlash, which we are facing now, for sure.

 

(UM): How do you think the push to appoint more diverse executives—who often operate within the same corporate, profit-driven system—has affected the quality and creativity of commercial filmmaking?

(SJ): Fundamentally, I was just describing to you the situation in New York. The major players haven’t changed fundamentally. There’s been an effort to appoint more executives of color, which is important. But unless the system itself changes, diverse leadership alone doesn’t automatically lead to more creative risk-taking or broader representation in storytelling. And they’re not necessarily creatives either. So that is a big problem. Right now, let’s say you work for Disney. You essentially work for a big bank, you know? That’s not the mentality. they impose a certain set of norms without thinking first, this is how you make a good story.

So that’s a huge issue, of course. I mean, there was a time when I actually enjoyed commercial films. You could see a film like Rain Man, because that used to be the definition of a commercial film, or, like, you know, not to say that I love Rain Man or something like Pretty Woman. These films would be hard to make and finance these days, right? If you don’t save the world, you know—if America doesn’t save the world, it’s not gonna get the budget you want, you know? At some point, there’s a sense, “Oh, we have to spend $200 million so we can make a billion.” So yeah, it’s not very narrative-driven, I would argue.

 

(UM): How was the impact of Netflix on your film festival or streamers? Did it change the population or the number of people who are coming to your festival?

(SJ): So, as I’m talking to you, I realize how lucky I’ve been, and maybe there’s a fair amount of luck too in what we’ve been doing, because I think it’s actually increased the interest of people in non-English language, perhaps foreign, you know? So that’s great.

Having said that, I mean, I think the advantage of running the festival, to an extent, you offer some choices, but it’s limited. You don’t have to scroll on an interface for hours not knowing what to do. I find that with streaming services, you spend a long time just choosing a film—if at all. It’s the equivalent of flipping four channels now. You just look at this, your recommendations. A lot of people just do something else while they watch Netflix now. It’s become, you know, people don’t really watch the films when they watch Netflix. I mean, what is it they’re watching when they’re watching Netflix? That’s what’s interesting. That’s what we say now: “Oh, what did you do yesterday?” “I watched Netflix.” You know? It’s not like you don’t really watch a movie—you spend some time on the platform. That’s a little bit worrisome.

So I think in a sense, we’ve benefited from the dominance of the streaming platform in that they offer a huge amount of accessibility. It’s “content,” right? That’s the big word we’ve been using for now, I don’t know, a decade or so, right? So it kind of flattens everything. So you’re like, one night you can watch a Norwegian—like, a Scandinavian crime drama, and then a Korean TV drama, and then animation. You watch, you know, like, an action film, all that. It’s kind of an indiscriminate sort of buffet of content without any sense of, okay, this is more important than that. Sort of, bam. This means you can watch anything you want.

Ultimately, I don’t think people like to use their liberty of choice. They like the illusion of choice, you know, not to go all Matrix on this. But when you have a selection of films at a film festival like ours—and others too, I mean, Berlin, I genuinely enjoy Berlin a lot too, the city and life in general, the culture—but, I mean, it’s programmed by a human being, you know? You watch a film, you’re not necessarily—so what I find interesting sometimes is the bad choices, like the lack of taste, because, you know, it’s not an algorithm. So, like, oh, this film, you know, it has problems there—like, the ending is sort of messy. Sometimes I love that. Like, I go see a film, l wonder if certain films were the right choices, but that’s part of what makes human curation valuable, the selection of it, you know, like, oh, fallible. Of course, I’d like to believe I have good critical judgment, as well as my team. But every now and then, I look at the program, and I don’t know if that was really the right film. But that’s what makes it human as well. And you have a finite selection. It’s not like you can program a million films, you know.

I disagree with the view that you have to expand forever. At some point or another—which is also why I have trouble right now rebalancing the different regions. It’s pretty complicated. It’s a very baggy region. It doesn’t make sense. It’s just, what is Asia? I mean, it sounds to me Asia is the majority of the world on the planet, in a very real sense. I mean, India alone, I mean, that should be—like, is it fair to include India in an Asian film festival? India is like this massive culture with I don’t know how many languages. You know, if you count the Telugu language production alone, it’s huge. I mean, I don’t know. It could have a festival of its own just focusing on that. I would need—I don’t know how many parameters I would need to have to make a decent selection of Indian films. What does that mean, you know?

I think that’s where we are. It’s an interesting moment because culture is becoming incredibly industrialized, and it’s impacted the film festival, the International Film Festival circuit, right? So, it’s tough times ahead. So far so good for me, but the challenges, particularly in the past few days, I’m like, this is gonna be a tough road ahead, for sure.

 

 

 

© 2020-2025. UniversalCinema Mag.

I’m Still Here: Echoes in the Darkness

I’m Still Here, Brazilian director Walter Salles’ first feature film in over a decade, explores a dark period in his nation’s history. Recently awarded the Academy Award for Best International Feature Film, Salles’ fleshes out the human cost of a brutal military dictatorship characterized by extensive human rights abuses, institutionalized torture, and the forced disappearances of its opponents. One of the most well-known victims of the regime was Rubens Paiva, a former congressman active in the underground resistance. Featuring a tour-de-force performance from Fernanda Torress, the film examines the devastating effect his abduction has on his family while shedding light on the incongruous reality of trying to make a life under the thumb of a terrifyingly repressive regime.

That incongruity is hinted at early on, as the family enjoys a day at the beach. Running along the beautiful Rio de Janeiro shoreline, surrounded by gorgeous mountains, the Paiva family is the picture of health and good humour, resembling something akin to a seventies advertisement for sunscreen scored to the evocative sounds of Brazilian funk artist Erasmo Carlos. The cracks in this utopian façade are soon revealed, however, when eldest sister Vera (Valentina Herszage) and her friends are pulled over by a military roadblock and subjected to an invasive and aggressive search. The moment is jarring, and will unfortunately prove to be just the tip of the iceberg for this tight-knit family.

Salles was acquainted with the Paivas as a child, and his familiarity with this place and time is more than evident as he effortlessly roots the audience in their world. Rubens (Selton Mello) lovingly presides over his energetic household, adored by his children and still madly in love with his devoted wife Eunice (Torres). It’s the kind of house where you’re just as likely to find yourself in a spirited political debate as a spontaneous dance party. The kind of house in which many of us might have wished to have grown up. Despite his entreaties to his children to be careful, it is clear that Rubens himself is still active in the resistance, taking surreptitious late night phone calls and passing mysterious letters and packages, all the while hiding his activities from his family for their own protection.

One day, having caught the military’s attention, a trio of goons show up at the door to escort him to a “deposition” at an undisclosed location. Soon enough they would also take custody of Eunice and their daughter Eliana (Luiza Kosovski) as armed enforcers stand guard over the rest of the children. It’s hardly a spoiler (or surprising to anyone with a basic grasp of history), that Rubens’ family never saw him again, or that his body has never been found. In the days and months following that first fateful day, we experience the fallout from Eunice’s perspective. Imprisoned and “interrogated” for twelve days herself, her experience goes a long way to unshrouding the mystery that surrounds the vast majority of such forced disappearances.

Torres’ performance is peerless (apologies to the incredibly talented Demi Moore and Mikey Madison) as she subtly projects Eunice’s struggle to protect her family and fight for justice. Intelligent, loving, gentle, and relentless in her pursuit of the truth, it is fascinating to behold Eunice Paiva as she negotiates the treacherous terrain in which she finds herself. Fiercely protective of her family and rarely reactionary, Eunice swallows her considerable grief and plays the long game, always observing and evaluating with careful consideration and intelligence. That quiet consistency renders her few moments of outward vulnerability and rage all the more powerful. One of the most powerful and revealing scenes in the film finds Eunice sitting among her family at a local ice cream shop. Grappling with unimaginable grief that she hides even from her own children, her eyes wander to the people that surround them. Young couples laugh and flirt, children play – each of them simply trying to grasp whatever moments of joy and levity that they can, doing their best to ignore the darkness lurking just around the corner. It’s a harrowing moment, and one that hits all too close to home.

I’m Still Here is currently in screening in cinemas across North America.

 

 

 

 

© 2020-2025. UniversalCinema Mag.

Grand Theft Hamlet: Method in the Madness

As we hurtle clumsily into the future, our lives increasingly mediated by electronic interfaces, it can be easy to overlook the dramatic shift in how we relate to each other in the digital age. With the advent of social media and a seemingly endless proliferation of elaborate RPG worldscapes, we seem to be on precipice of an era in which entire lives could be lived purely online. Leaning into that theme, Grand Theft Hamlet – which premiered to great acclaim at the SXSW Film & Television Festival last year – takes a hilarious and surprisingly poignant look at the unexpected possibilities that lay in wait just on the other side of the screen.

The story kicks off at the height of the COVID epidemic. Out-of-work actors Sam Crane and Mark Oosterveen – faced with the isolation of a protracted lockdown – find themselves increasingly retreating into the digital landscape in order to maintain some tenuous sense of human connection. Their destination of choice? The massively popular video game Grand Theft Auto. Wiling away the time clad in the flashy garb of their GTA avatars, the pair one day find themselves striding across the stage of the sprawling Vinewood Bowl (GTA’s facsimile of the legendary Hollywood Bowl arena). With little else to devote themselves to, they are struck with the inspiration (or folly) to attempt a production of Hamlet on that very stage. What begins as a lark soon grabs hold of them, and all but takes over their lives.

Shot entirely within the world of the game (with the help of Sam’s wife, documentary filmmaker Pinny Grylls), the film follows the pair’s trials and tribulations as they attempt to cobble together a cast, hold rehearsals, and keep the project (and each other) from completely falling apart in the process. The auditions kick off with a literal bang, as confused bystanders interrupt monologues with gunfire and random acts of violence. Nevertheless, they are a delight to watch, as a motley crew of mismatched avatars enthusiastically dive into the oddball project. Like the rest of the film, the audition sequence is engaging, fun, and punctuated with moments of unexpected depth and beauty, such as when one player – inhabiting the avatar of a naked green alien – somberly recites a verse from the Quran.

That alien becomes an integral part of the unlikely community that forms as a result of this unusual project, and it’s beautiful to see how this group of far-flung strangers bands together to support each other in such a strange and lonely time. Committed to the same esoteric goal, this strange set of characters keeps showing up, supporting and cheering each other on. Watching them negotiate the slings and arrows of this unorthodox production, one quickly forgets that we are viewing them completely within the world of a videogame.

It’s all too easy to forget that the world we’re seeing is actually quite disconnected from what’s happening IRL. As the world outside the game starts to open up, and key players begin to come and go, our protagonists soldier on, though not before the conflicts in their own lives begin to take a toll. When Sam, Pinny, and Mark’s real-world realities start to bleed into the game, the play feels like it might just fall apart, and the trio have to face up to the conflicts between them in order to forge ahead.

The show must go on, as they say, and the film does a great job of communicating the pleasure and pain of pure artistic endeavour. One of the most fascinating aspects of the film for me was that while the world outside was closing in on them, Mark and Sam soon realized that by putting on their production within this fantastical landscape, they were not confined to the limitations of the real world. Striding beyond the limits of the traditional theatre, they began staging the actions on yachts, blimps, and mountaintops, limited by little more than their own imaginations. Recognizing the seemingly limitless possibilities, they started taking risks they would never be able to otherwise, and succeeded in creating something very unique in the process.

Grand Theft Hamlet is currently available to stream on MUBI.   

 

 

 

© 2020-2025. UniversalCinema Mag.

Unveiling Desire: Denis Côté on ‘For Paul’ and the Politics of Sexuality in Cinema

Denis Côté has long been known for his fascination with unconventional characters, often navigating the fringes of society and human desire. His latest film, For Paul, premiering in the Panorama section at Berlinale, is no exception. Inspired by a real-life encounter, the film follows Paul, a man whose lifestyle challenges mainstream perceptions of relationships, power dynamics, and personal agency. In this conversation, Côté discusses the fine line between judgment and observation in filmmaking, his resistance to over-intellectualizing sexuality, and his instinctive, fast-paced approach to cinema. He reflects on how For Paul evolved unexpectedly, revealing new anxieties about the relationship between identity and digital self-representation. We also explore his views on objectivity in documentary filmmaking, the evolving landscape of sexuality in the internet age, and his enduring appreciation for Iranian cinema. As always, Côté offers a refreshingly direct and self-reflective take, questioning both his own methods and the broader cinematic discourse surrounding desire, control, and the limits of non-judgmental storytelling.

 

 

 

© 2020-2025. UniversalCinema Mag.

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