Tag: Locarno Film Festival

Stone Turtle

Posted on by John Bleasdale

QUICK SNAP: LIVE FROM LOCARNO

Zahara (Asmara Abigail) explains:”I’d rather live on an island of ghosts than be a ghost among the living”. She is a stateless refugee who lives on a remote Malaysian island where she makes her living selling rare turtle eggs on the black market. But she is still a ghost on the mainland and for the bureaucracy. One gets the feeling it wouldn’t matter so much for her but she is caring for a young girl, Nika, who she is desperate to get into school. Nika, however, has no papers: her father is unknown and her mother is dead – killed by her religious parents for having Nika out of wedlock. When Samad (Bront Palarae), claiming to be a university researcher, arrives on the island, Zahara’s life descends into a spiral of violence, magic and revenge.

Ming Jin Woo’s film is a surreal melange of Elizabethan revenger’s tragedy, mixed with Groundhog Day (Harold Ramis, 1993) and The Wicker Man (Robin Hardy, 1973). Kong Pahurak’s cinematography makes the most of the beautiful locations even as terrible things occur throughout them. A postmodern irreverence sees Ming and his collaborators use everything from animation to folklore and dance to create a rich and layered tale.

That Samad is not who he claims to be is apparent fairly early on but his complicity and motives are revealed gradually as Zamara enacts her revenge only to find herself having to reset her life to before the killings in order to try again. As the old saying goes: she who would have revenge first dig two graves. In this case, it will be many more than just two.

From the very first scene, when we see the original killing of Zamara’s sister, the murders are brutal without being gratuitous. Having said that there is something almost glorious in the varieties of danger Ming packs onto his island. Poisonous fish, ritual sacrifice, stabbing, drownings and even a return to quick sand. Each time though unforeseen consequences requires Zamara to have a rethink. But played with utterly fierce conviction by Abigail, she strides through the film in a red dress like a wet blade, in search of a stabbing. She is a feminist avenger who uses witchcraft against religious bigotry and patriarchy, and a righteous fury against the men who have destroyed her life. While Nika reads a Ms Marvel comic book, her guardian angel here is the real Avenger.

Stone Turtle is a striking tale of many layers which manages the handy trick of being mesmerising while retaining a basic direct simplicity. It has the depth and power of a folktale and yet feels witty and topical. When a murderer woman reveals her husband and murderer’s sexual insecurity, it is at once funny and terrifying that strong women should be destroyed by such fragility.

Stone Turtle has just premiered at the 75th Locarno International Film Festival.

What to Look Out for at the 75th Locarno Film Festival

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

The Locarno Film Festival returns once again for its 75th edition, providing its characteristic and eclectic mix of arthouse cinema and crowd-pleasing fare. Whether you’re an arduous cinephile or someone just looking for a good time, the cinemas alongside the Lago Maggiore — stretching from the magical Piazza Grande to more intimate indoor theatres — have a little something for everyone.

If 2021 was testing the waters within strict coronavirus protocols, 2022 promises to be even more relaxed, fully returning to the traditional hustle and bustle that characterises the joy and discovery of in-person film festivals. Giona A. Nazzaro returns as artistic director for a second year, providing a steady hand to an event steeped in tradition but still committed to pursuing new and exciting art forms.

Consider the contrast between the opening film and my most anticipated competition inclusion. The opening ceremony is yet another American action film, David Leitch’s unavoidable Bullet Train. Starring Brad Pitt as an assassin on a high-speed Japanese rail-line, I have been subjected to the trailer at least 100 times in cinemas; so many times in fact, that it gives off the impression that it simply won’t be very good.

Meanwhile in the Concorso internazionale, legendary Russian director Alexander Sokurov returns after seven years with Skazka (Fairytale) — pictured below. It’s a mysterious hybrid effort blending archive and newly-shot material that comments on both dictators and the fate of the planet. Rejected by Cannes due to political reasons, it sounds like a fascinating experiment that is sorely needed as the Russian state is slowly collapsing.

Skazka

If Sokurov is the big name on the arthouse scene, the other directors in the competition are unknown to me, stretching from Italy to Brazil to Indonesia. All promise fascinating perspectives: there is a COVID-19 immigrant drama in the form of Mahesh Narayanan’s Ariyippu; a study of toxic masculinity in Bowling Saturne (Saturn Bowling); sea-bound drama in Human Flowers of Flesh; and a look at modern faith in the Austrian Catholic boarding school film Serviam – Ich will dienen (Serviam – I Will Serve).

More populist efforts can be found back on Piazza Grande with the Daisy Edgar-Jones starring Where the Crawdads Sing (which I’ll save for streaming) and My Neighbor Adolf, which, yes, sounds exactly like its title suggests. For those more interested in cinematic history, Douglas Sirk’s exquisite Imitation of Life (1958) plays on 35mm (as part of a wider retrospective), while New Wave-heads can get their kicks with Laurie Anderson’s 1986 Avantgarde concert movie Home of the Brave.

It’s usually around the edges that a festival truly comes to life. (Last year, my most notable experience was a Peter Greenaway film that didn’t even play officially at the festival.) For first and second-time directors, Concorso Cineasti del presente provides a chance to discover emerging talents, while the truly out there Fuori concorso section promises a zone where cinema is set free from any expectations or tradition.

I never try to read too much into what is playing, enjoying the thrill of the new upon walking into a cinema with little idea of what to expect; making the Locarno Film Festival such a unique experience. I shall be attending between 8th-12th August to report from the frontlines, providing reviews and insights from one of the best film festivals in the world.

The Locarno Film Festival runs from August 3rd to August 13th.

Locarno Film Festival 2021: a terrific Ticinese time

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

On the surface, a film festival is ostensibly a place where you watch films on seats of varying comfort. One writes about the films and makes comparisons between them. But a film festival is also about the location in which you watch them, the people that you meet and how you are feeling during that time. Naturally, my own reviews are influenced by my sleep, mood, comfort and hunger levels. There’s been many festivals that I haven’t enjoyed simply because there was nothing interesting surrounding the films that I saw or the vibe was just off. Even my first Locarno, despite the great films, was a little lonesome, as I had fewer surrounding experiences than I had this time.

After all, the second best thing about a film festival apart from the films is talking about the films, whether it’s over a beer, just after a screening or in a garden-party set straight out of the Finzi-Continis. It’s yet another reminder of the magical connections that can be made within a space where everyone is just as enthusiastic about film culture as you are. On the key metric of connections, conversations and cultural experiences, Locarno 2021 was just as good as a film festival can get.

Medea

One experience truly stood out: after hearing about industry lunches, I sent an email asking to be invited. I was graciously squeezed in and enjoyed a buffet meal featuring skewered chicken, glorious salads and macaroni pasta, all washed down with a few glasses of Merlot di Bianchi. Once there I heard from a Lugano-based journalist that Peter Greenaway’s unfinished Walking to Paris was being shopped around and looking for bidders (not an official festival entry). This led me to an art gallery perched on top of a small castle designed by none other than Leonardo DiVinci himself. One couldn’t ask for a better preview of Greenaway’s latest art-obsessed piece, telling the story of Constantin Brâncusi’s long journey from Romania to Paris.

The castle was designed to fight off the Milanese. The Swiss won. I asked the gallery assistant showing me around if he was happy to be Swiss instead of Italian. He replied that he was first and foremost Ticinese. It reminded me that the spaces that you live and navigate culture in matter. So do the ways in which you move from place to place. Taking the Alpine express from Zurich to Locarno was a particularly revelatory experience. One second the signs and announcements were in German. After emerging through a tunnel into Ticino, everything changed to Italian. It was like entering into a completely different world. Like Brâncusi, the longer trip made me appreciate the city in a whole new light.

Cop Secret

If the countryside and architecture feel timeless, the seemingly steadfast Swiss (slash Ticinese) are always open to trying new things, with Locarno opening itself up to wider audiences by embracing genre. Beckett (Ferdinando Cito Filomarino) and Free Guy (Shawn Levy) — both Hollywood-backed, large budget productions — made the headlines, but there was also a noticeably different genre entry in Cop Secret (pictured above). According to director Hannes Þór Halldorsson and the crew, who I had the privilege of meeting, the film, which aped buddy cop classics such as Tango and Cash (Andrei Konchalovsky, 1989) 48 Hours (Walter Hill, 1982) and Lethal Weapon (Richard Donner, 1989), is a complete fantasy. No street cops in Iceland have guns. They rarely shoot up banks either. It is a purely cinematic kind of action-comedy, foregoing logic for the laughs and thrills instead.

Auteur Abel Ferrara took to genre too with Zeros and Ones (which won the best director award) ,ten times more serious than Cop Secret and about a hundred times more confusing. Ethan Hawke was tasked as the archetypal American hero to investigate a secret that could collapse the Catholic church. Here the New York director took the moral muddiness of Le Carré spy thrillers and turned it into a positive quagmire.

Zeros and Ones may have straddled the difference between genre and despair, but other films outright embraced the latter idea, creating films with deep, wounding voids at their centre. Medea (Alexander Zeldovich, pictured top) transformed the classic Greek myth to the modern Russian expat generation, telling the story of a woman who would do anything to reverse the effects of ageing. I found it to be a haunting epic with extraordinary power, buoyed by an exceptional Tinatin Dalakishvili performance. Likewise, Luzifer (Peter Brunner) took the void literally, with its continuous revisiting of a cave in the side of a mountain, supposedly the place where the devil may reside. But while Medea felt open and had the feeling it could go anywhere, Luzifer, despite an excellent Franz Rogowski performance, sadly had nowhere to go.

Meanwhile, The Sacred Spirit (Chema García Ibarra, pictured below), the blackest of comedies from Spain, and a special mention winner, used deadpan framing to portray the call of cult conspiracies, leading to a truly whacky experience. Judging from fellow reactions, expect this competition film to have the longest legs.

The Sacred Spirit

Quality can often be a question of ambition, with many truly ambitious discoveries found in Concorso Cineaste del Presente section, which focuses on first, second and third features. One can sense the effort the programmers went to in order to create a truly diverse programme, spanning from the standout Streams (Mehdi Hmili; pictured at the top), a breathlessly exciting investigation of contemporary and contradictory Tunisian culture, to Wet Sand (Elene Naveriani) — winner of the Best Actor award for Gia Agumava — a quiet plea for more humanity towards Georgia’s LGBT citizens. Other complaints against national culture included the Mexican Mostro (José Pablo Escamilla), an investigation of the underclass which combined experimental tropes with slice-of-life drama to ultimately middling effect.

On a purely formal basis, the most credit and appreciation must go to FIRST TIME [The Time for All but Sunset – VIOLET]. Set on the Hamburg U3 circle train, it shows director Nicolaas Schmidt commit to a simple conceit with truly poignant results. I watched that one on the way to the festival, my own train journey going by and making for a truly three-dimensional experience. It’s another reminder that films never exist in the void, but are innately tied up in the way that they are seen. While trepidatious on my way here, I leave feeling deeply excited about the potential for world cinema to show me new things while finding new ways of telling those stories. It reaffirms the Swiss (slash Ticinese) festival as one of the best in the world.

I can’t wait to go back.

Our dirty questions to Abel Ferrara

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

Abel Ferrara is back in Locarno, in high spirits and ready to talk about his latest work, Zeros and Ones, shot last year as Rome was under strict lockdown. Just before the interview at the industry lunch (I somehow wrangled an invite for), the three directors of Juju Stories take pictures with him and call him the “King of New York”, a reference to his iconic 1990 film. Cutting a distinctive figure as he walks across the Piazza Grande and shakes hands with programmers and critics, the veteran figure has returned to Lago Maggiore ready to wax lyrical about his latest work — a genre-ish spy thriller that’s heavy on mood and very light on plot. We talked about his productivity during the pandemic, shooting in his local neighbourhood in Rome and wanting to work for as long as he can.

Redmond Bacon – So the film is set during the pandemic. How did it affect your work?

Abel Ferrara – I was fortunate that I was editing a movie. I was able to edit in the beginning when no one knew what was going on. I’m scared like anyone else. I was 69 (70 years old now) and, you know, it’s two different diseases: if you’re 25 it’s a different disease to my age. I spent a lot of my life trying to kill myself. I don’t want to die now. For us, it was just the opposite, because the editors had nothing to do but edit: there’s no going to bars or taking the wife to dinner. At a certain point, I just really wanted to shoot and then this idea that I had before the pandemic started to come into focus and to work.

RB – You have Americans and Russians in a city under occupation. Throw in French and English and you could have The Third Man (Carol Reed, 1949)…

AF – Yeah, like the French movies under occupation. Who’s that director of those beautiful movies?

Abel Ferrara

RB – Jean-Pierre Melville?

AF – Yeah. There’s genre aspects of films like Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) too. Ethan’s character himself is one of the lone American solider smoking a cigarette… even the uniform he had is like, they don’t wear that. The uniform that our guys are wearing is a stylised memory.

RB – You seem to prioritise atmosphere a lot more than plot. Is creating a vibe more important than making it clear-cut?

AF – There’s nothing clear cut! That’s the point of the movie. Who’s who and what’s what? What’s everybody’s agenda? Who’s your enemy and who’s your friend? I mean this is real life. You don’t know what side anybody’s on because everybody’s changing. The idea of espionage creates counter espionage, so once you’re in that world of intelligence, it’s by its nature, a lot: you’re accepting that no one is who they are.

Unless you’re a soldier. To be out of uniform, that’s a crime punishable by death. Because if you’ve got a green uniform and I’ve got the other uniform, I know who you are, you know who I am, and we know the rules of engagement. Once you start not wearing a uniform, now comes the great world of what we’re talking about: a world of espionage, William Gibson and Melville.

Zeros and Ones

RB – The Vatican comes off as quite a mysterious and malevolent place, especially with that shot of the saints that ring around St Peter’s Square. Do you feel cynical about Catholic Church and its role in modern society?

AF – I’m not cynical about any place that is preaching spirituality versus consumerism. A: I’m a Buddhist; B, I’m about the word of Jesus Christ. This religion is about a guy who had nothing, who gave everything away, who lived on the street, who didn’t even have shoes. That’s a far cry from what I’m looking at at the back. By the back there’s a political entity. I’m not cynical, I’m just looking at what I’m looking at.

RB – The cinematography is very striking, capturing Rome in the dark. What was it like working with Sean Price Williams, who has worked with the Safdies and Alex Ross Perry, and has such a distinctive style?

AF – He worked with us when he was a kid. I’ve known him since he was young. We live and work in New York together. He was on the crew of Chelsea on the Rocks (2008), we shot The Projectionist (2019) together, we did Sporting Life (2020). He brings the goods.

RB – The film is shot all at night in a deserted city. What was the schedule like?

AF – We didn’t have to wait. We were lucky it was a pandemic. Everything was locked down at 9pm. We used the pandemic as an advantage.

RB – Rome is usually filled with life and vigour, at least in the films I’ve seen. Did you have any references for making it more noirish?

AF – I live in the neighbourhood. I did the documentary Piazza Vittorio (2017). I’ve been living here for seven years, so it’s my hood. Like when I shot in New York, I shot in my neighbourhood.

RB – A lot of films have come out about the coronavirus. And yours is one of the more interesting because it shows just how the world has been thrust into darkness and despair. Would you say it’s been a terrible time for humanity?

Zeros and Ones

AF – All these people dead! I mean, is it terrible? Fuck yeah. Is it true, is it real, do we have to deal with it? Yeah. Is global warming cool? No. The same thing happened one hundred years ago. Nobody’s sitting there nostalgic for 1919. But it is what it is. Your concept of thinking the world is just this place that’s going to be this place that’s going to be here forever and everything going to be the way it is is a fucking fallacy. You’re delusional. Anything can happen at any minute and you’ve got to deal with it. It’s life on life’s term bro. So, is it going to throw you into a deep dark depression? I’m not going to let it. Unless I get it, then I’m either gonna die or get over it.

RB – Does it make you want to create more as an artist?

AF – We’re working. It’s neither here nor there. We’re doing our thing. At this point of my life I still believe in movies. I want to make movies. And I still have the ability to: I can walk, I can talk. I don’t know about thinking straight, but just as long as I can point. At this point of my life I still believe in movies.

RB – What about for streamers such as Netflix?

AF – We’re final cut directors so as long as we have control of the financing, of the budget, of the final cut, we’re not sweating where the money’s coming from.

RB – What are you working on next?

AF – A film about Padre Pio, with Shia LaBeouf. I’m dealing with the period of 1920. There was a massacre in San Giovanni Rotondo. He got the stigmata at the same time, so it was just an incredible moment.

Zeros and Ones premiered at Locarno Festival on Thursday 12th August as part of the Concorso Internazionale.

Picture at the top by Redmond Bacon.

Juju Stories

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

Three shorts from Nigeria, all based on the concepts of magic and madness. Told in Pidgin English, it’s a bold collection of films examining the ways man can be deceived and the difficulties of establishing personal relationships. Funny, sometimes profound and differing wildly in quality and tone, it acts as a neat West African counterpart to Ryūsuke Hamaguchi’s Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy (2021), leaning heavy on the mystical parts of everyday life. Spanning from the snooty upper-classes to the hustlers of Lagos to college students and businesspeople, it also provides a solid panorama of Nigerian identity.

It’s worth going through each one individually, as they’re all headed by different directors, starting with Michael Omonua’s Love Potion. With a direct Murakami reference (missing cat) and a callout to Norwegian Wood, Love Potion feels like it could’ve easily been told on the streets of Tokyo. A whimsical, day-dreaming advertisement executive dreams of a life with a man she met at a party; deciding to create a special potion that will have him falling in love with her. Omonua shoots in a mostly realist style, allowing the plain-spoken dialogue to do the heavy lifting. Once under the spell, the man asks: “Am I in love or am I crazy?” His friend tells him there’s no difference. Easily my favourite of the three and a great follow up to Omonua’s equally good short Rehearsal, which played Berlinale this year.

The second offering is entitled Yam, and directed by Abba Makama. Yams are said to have all kinds of magical properties. The Jamaicans even claim that it is the reason they run so fast. At first, this eponymous tale appears not to deal with the vegetable at all, following a small-time crook as he finds schemes here and there all over the streets. But when his life intersects with that of a tire repairman, the yam rears its mystical head. While a bit muddled in terms of composition, with a couple of uninteresting repetitions in its non-linear retelling, and a quite random use of focus pulling, Yam is saved by some neat long-takes and the high energy of its cast.

The final and final offering was directed by C.J. ‘Fiery’ Obasi. Suffer the Witch best encapsulates the good and bad sides of the anthology as a whole. While the narrative devices, musical cues and point-of-views are often quite well-handled, the short stories seem to meander and obfuscate when they should be snappy and to-the-point. This one tells the tale of a young college student who starts to suspect that her best friend might actually be a witch. Foregoing the potion motif in the first two films, Suffer the Witch explores the nature of taboos, the relationships between the sexes, the rivalry of female friendships and the inability to confront the truth. Feeling like the longest film of the three, it’s aided by solid needle drops and some great moments, but can’t manage to properly take off by the end

Juju Stories played in Concorso internazionale at Locarno Film Festival. It premieres in the UK in October as part of the BFI London Film Festival.

The Sacred Spirit (Espíritu sagrado)

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

QUICK SNAP: LIVE FROM LOCANO

When the Egyptians built the Pyramids, it was a marvel of engineering so ahead of its time, many conspiracy theorists believe they must have had some extraterrestrial help. Their designs, pointing to the sky or strange sphinxes, have this element of otherworldliness to them, inspiring countless science-fiction tales. José Manuel (Nacho Fernández) is particularly in love with anything and everything remotely occult, his own bar decked out in countless Egyptian symbols.

He attends a weekly Ufology group with a variety of assorted characters, lead by the charismatic sage Julio, who seems to know the secrets of the universe. Meanwhile, his sister has lost her daughter, one of twins, who has been missing for nearly a month. The film takes a measured approach to these dual, intersecting narratives, layering the story and constantly withholding information until the last possible moment, all the while reflecting on the endless pull of conspiracy theories.

Once on the fringes of society, the rise of phenomena such as QAnon — the symbols of which I have scarily witnessed in my own neighborhood — and anti-vaccine nonsense shows how easily people can fall for unfiltered bullshit. CDs, videos and guest lectures in the film drone on about ways of stopping mortality, connecting with the universe and the alien’s grand plan for us, showing there is a lucrative business out there for those willing to peddle random, non-scientifically backed information. For the simple José — played with quiet conviction by Fernández — these various ideas are incredibly convincing, leading him on a path towards possible spiritual fulfilment.

But this is Spain after all, a deeply Catholic country with its own special feast days and rituals and ways that people convince themselves that they will be saved. The Sacred Spirit doesn’t draw any overarching conclusions however, allowing the viewer to analyse the implications of following any kind of ‘spiritual’ leader.

Shot on a mixture of 16mm and 35mm film, utilising a boxy frame and a pastel aesthetic, the world of The Sacred Spirit has a brittle feel that is often ironically detached from its characters. Complemented by spacey new-age music and the occasional trance track, this is the type of film that refuses to quickly spoil its own punchlines. The deadpan approach has a way of holding all moral considerations at bay, building up to a conclusion that makes you rethink everything that has been seen before while also giving justification to the film’s hitherto languid approach.

While this pacing leaves a lot to be desired, certain images, like Julio taking his niece on a fairground ride with the camera remaining in a fixed position, or an inflatable sphinx bouncy castle slowly filling up with air, linger long in the memory, showing off a fine eye for images from Chema García Ibarra with his debut feature. But just like delving into the rabbit hole of conspiracy theories and looking for a unified message (and I’m speaking from experience having investigated all the theories behind JFK’s death), these numerous images can’t quite lift the film beyond mere fascination and into the realm of the profound.

The Sacred Spirit plays in Concorso internazionale at Locarno Film Festival, running from August 4th to 15th.

Apparition (Aparisyon)

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

Cloisters, by their very nature, are cut off from the rest of the world. People of faith live there in order to dedicate themselves in service to God without being encumbered by the problems of the modern world. Yet, as governments and countries change, even the most secluded of us find themselves caught up in the events of history.

Isabel Sandoval’s film Apparition takes place in the Philippines, 1971, just before President Ferdinand Marcos devastates the country by putting it under Martial Law. We start as Sister Lourdes (Jodi Sta. Maria) makes her way to the convent, finding herself lost in a dense thicket of trees. Then, like in so many convent-based dramas, we are introduced to the many practices of this space, which functions as a universe unto itself, with its own codes and laws. They seem untouchable, solely dedicated to the Lord.

But Ferdinand Marcos has other ideas. The leader turned dictator of the Philippines is never seen but often heard, speaking on the radio in English as he calmly asserts power over the country, setting into course a series of events that will change the fabric of the nation forever, and even encroach upon this self-contained world.

It’s an interesting choice for Locarno’s Open Doors selection — finding the best cinema South East Asia and Mongolia has to offer— which has barely any new feature films this year, as it resembles, in both tone and content, the Argentinian drama of Maternal. Yet where the much stronger Maternal had an strongly-established aesthetic, using a lot of natural light to match, a lot of Apparition looks cheaply shot, with a strange blue filter used to dampen the striking look of the women’s habits.

Characters are often held at a remove, playing rigid roles (the stern Mother Superior, the Rebellious Friend) instead of being complex people in their own right. The central thesis point is finely drawn, especially by the way this feminine world is violently violated, but it cannot seem to amount to more than just academic criticism, further stressed by the Antonio Gramsci quote (“The old is dying and the new cannot be born. In this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appear’) that opens the film. Additionally, the pivotal event of the movie is repeated from different angles, showing us how all the nuns are complicit in letting it happen. While sometimes this technique can work, little is revealed here that we didn’t already know, making it a somewhat superfluous filmmaking gesture.

With the Marcos Family still holding considerable sway in the Philippines, as shown in The Kingmaker, the message of Apparition — to speak up when power, both patriarchal and political, is being abused — rings as true as ever. But for a real understanding of how things can go wrong, that documentary, also available online, is a far more intriguing and urgent document.

Apparition plays as part of the Locarno Film Festival’s Open Doors segment, running online between August 5-15. Just click here in order to watch it.

Our dirty picks from the upcoming Locarno Film Festival

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

The last major film festival of the summer season before Oscar hype ramps up in the autumn, Locarno’s reputation is built upon its eclectic and unconventional programme. Its standout cinema is the Piazza Grande — with over 8,000 available seats, it’s the largest outdoor screen in the world (pictured below) — which crucially means that queueing is a lot less stressful than during Venice or Cannes. This year’s Festival, curated for the first time by Lili Hinstin since Carlo Chatrian moved to the Berlinale, might be low on the big names, but nonetheless offers an exciting, experimental and challenging line-up. From the Moving Ahead section, focusing on cinema’s most obscure edges to the retrospective Shades of Black — celebrating black cinema in all its forms — this year’s Festival champions that which is daring, different and auteur-driven. The event takes place from August 7th to the 17th.

Here are the 10 films we are most excited for!

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1. 7500 (Patrick Vollrath):

Joseph Gordon-Levitt has a great knack for taking traditional genre fare and turning it into something that seems vital. He stars in 7500 as a young pilot tasked with negotiating with plane hijackers. Given that this premise is one of the most overcrowded of micro-genres, it will be interesting to see if 7500 — referring to the code pilots use in the event of a hijacking — can rise above its predecessors into something truly worthwhile. The claustrophobic clips released so far suggest a rather minimalist and claustrophobic approach, requiring Gordon-Levitt to really step up and carry the film all by himself.

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2. Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood (Quentin Tarantino):

Easily the most anticipated film at the festival, Tarantino’s ninth film sees the postmodern auteur return to the LA locale of his first three films. Received to rapturous applause at Cannes, this Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt-starring lament for a passing age of Hollywood, set against the backdrop of the Manson Murders, has been touted by some as a return to form following the middling The Hateful Eight (2015). Known for provoking endless discussion, it will be fascinating to see how he tackles the horrendous Manson murders and makes it entertaining and meaningful.

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3. Days of The Bagnold Summer (Simon Bird):

Yes, its Will from The Inbetweeners (2008-2010) with his debut film playing in competition at a major international film festival! Days of the Bagnold Summer, adapted from the graphic novel by Joff Winterhart, looks like a classic coming-of-age tale, telling the story of a young heavy-metal loving teen who is forced to spend his holiday’s with his annoying mother. Featuring an airy Belle and Sebastian soundtrack, and performances from Tamsin Greig, Rob Brydon and Earl Cave, it seems to be another thoughtful addition to the British oddball teen canon.

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4. Space Dogs (Elisa Kremser, Levin Peter):

Laika was the first living creature to ever be sent into space by the Soviet Union, dying in the name of scientific progress. Legends say that the dog returned to earth and lives among the streets of Moscow as a ghost. Experimental documentary Space Dogs looks to be an unconventional look at animal-human relations, and how progress can easily come at a cost to the earth’s most friendly animals. Interestingly enough, this film comes with a content warning while the inevitably violent Once Upon A Time In Hollywood doesn’t. Dog lovers beware!

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5. Maradona (Asif Kapadia):

Asif Kapadia has established himself as one of the best profilers in the documentary business with character portraits of legends such as Amy Whinehouse (Amy, 2015) and Brazilian F1 Driver Artyon Senna (Senna, 2010). For his latest work, he turns to arguably the greatest footballer of all time, Diego Maradona, utilising an extraordinary 500 hours of unused footage to go deep on his mythical stature. With critics saying that deep knowledge of football is not required to enjoy the movie, it seems that Kapadia has found a way to use Maradona’s tale to enquire into deeper truths regarding the human condition.

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6. Wilcox (dir. Denis Côté):

The preeminent Quebecois auteur Denis Côté’s previous film, Ghost Town Anthology (2019) may have already been released this year after positive buzz at Berlinale, but he’s already back at it again with the experimental film Wilcox. Running only 63 minutes long and featuring no dialogue, it seems Côté is taking his minimalist instincts to a new level; telling the quiet story of a hermit living beyond the normal bounds of society, surviving on his wits alone in the vast countryside.

Wilcox is also pictured at the top of this article.

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7. Echo (Rúnar Rúnarsson):

The most exciting contemporary director to come out of Iceland, Rúnar Rúnarsson tells sensitive, family-focused tales set against the beautiful backdrop of the rugged and barren countryside. Often filmed in grainy 16mm, his body of work does a lot with little dialogue yet strong and evocative gestures. His latest is set during Christmas time, and features only 56 scenes; foregoing a traditional narrative to create an entire portrait of Icelandic society. Judging from his boldly shot trailer, this could perhaps be his best film yet.

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8. The Last Black Man in San Francisco (Joe Talbot):

Already released to highly positive reception in the USA, The Last Black Man in San Francisco makes its debut on European shores. At tale of gentrification that leaves the African-American community of San Francisco behind, it has been touted as a highly lyrical and dreamlike depiction of a city that has changed beyond measure. It stars Jimmie Falls playing a version of himself, attempting to reclaim his childhood home built by his grandfather. Picked up by A24, currently the hottest independent film studio in the USA, it’ll be interesting to see how it plays over the pond.

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9. A Voluntary Year (Ulrich Köhler):

The Berlin school — comprised of directors such as Christian Petzold and Angela Schanelec — have been making serious waves on the arthouse scene recently, from Berlinale to beyond. Ulrich Köhler may not specifically be from Berlin, but his work — bold, uncompromising and completely its own — fits the ticket exactly. His last film, In My Room (2018) took a wistful look at the end of the world, while the upcoming A Voluntary Year tells the story of a girl taking a gap year volunteering abroad, possibility separating her from her father. It’ll be fascinating to see what Köhler does with the topic here.

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10. To The Ends of the Earth (dir. Kiyoshi Kurosawa):

An Uzbekistan-Japan co-production, To The End of The Earth is a clash of civilisations story; depicting a young Japanese woman’s travels to the central Asian country to film the latest episode of her travel show. Here she has the bizarre aim of capturing a legendary fish; once again showing Kurosawa’s love of blending genres together, mixing together comedy, thriller and romance for good effect. The closing film of the festival, it’ll be the second Kurosawa film to premiere at Locarno after Real (2013).

DMovies critic Redmond Bacon will be at the festival. Follow DMovies for our exclusive coverage of the event!