Chirilov’s Recommendations – The world is frightening, but TIFF brings hope

13.06.2025 10:38

Under the ominous shadow of AI, Mihai Chirilov spoke about the difficulty of curating this year’s selection, the films that fueled his optimism, and how a festival can bring together heterogeneous audiences.

This year, TIFF asks itself and the public whether the future looks bright, considering the present is, at best, uncertain. We’re living through political uncertainty, and artificial intelligence is redefining the boundaries of reality and art. What was it like to shape TIFF’s selection in such an unstable socio-political context? Was it as frightening as the Tomorrow is Fear section suggests?

TIFF.24 asks if the future is bright, but the question is obviously rhetorical. The future is anything but bright – just look around, over the fence or across the ocean, at the news, or even at recent films. On the one hand—and fortunately—there are no interferences affecting the content or tone of the festival. Though I must admit I did wonder what consequences might have followed the screening of a particular short film from Romanian Days, had the recent elections taken a different turn. On the other hand—and unfortunately—cinema is not doing too well in general. Not necessarily because there’s no money (films are being made in bulk), but because the overall level has dropped significantly. With few exceptions, filmmakers’ courage has been replaced by pragmatism, opportunism, and conformity. Mediocrity seems to have become the guarantee of success, while cinema, despite the best intentions of some, practices a kind of miscalibrated resistance in today’s tense climate—one that risks doing more harm than good by sacrificing artistry, moral complexity, analytical spirit, and gray areas in favor of a black-and-white, hyper-transparent discourse fueled by hashtag-driven vuvuzelas.

As for AI, Pandora’s box has already been thrown wide open. Even the most skeptical or clear-headed among us, seduced by its benefits yet fully aware of the risks, only see the tip of this perverse “AIceberg.” The battle is already lost: the collision has happened, and the ship is slowly sinking. It is, quite rightly, frightening.

Staying with this section, it gathers giants of cinema—Kubrick, Truffaut, Wenders—alongside recent titles like The Blue Trail (dir. Gabriel Mascaro, 2025), winner of the Silver Bear at Berlinale, and In the Belly of AI (dir. Henri Poulain, 2025). How do these new voices compare with the “sacred monsters”? What do they bring to the discourse on the future?

I find it fascinating to revisit the classics, as many of their predictions have become reality (think Brazil or Wim Wenders’ epic Until the End of the World, in a rare full screening not to be missed at TIFF). What’s even more interesting is how these films retain their relevance. I’m thinking particularly of 1984, based on Orwell’s novel, which remains the ultimate Rorschach test: a brilliantly duplicitous story that both ends of the political spectrum in any regime can claim as their own. It’s a work about how various governments manipulate reality to fit their agendas. Sound familiar? We’ll likely see 2001: A Space Odyssey through new eyes, especially HAL (the first notable AI in cinema) and maybe we’ll stop relying so passively on that idiot Siri for every little thing and start thinking for ourselves again. In the Belly of AI dives beneath the surface, exposing the unseen depths of artificial intelligence, the new configuration of the global economy, and the devastating ecological impact of this out-of-control digital pollution. The House with No Address (dir. Hatice Aşkın, 2024) tackles systemic repression and cancel culture in a chilling but hopeful satirical-dystopian fable. AI’s limits and creativity are tested and revealed in About a Hero (dir. Piotr Winiewicz), a dizzying metafiction disguised as a documentary, directed by an avatar of Werner Herzog that opened IDFA 2024. Finally, The Blue Trail replaces artificial intelligence with emotional and native intelligence. Here, “progress” manifests in society’s tendency toward “sustainability”, viewing the elderly as burdens to be isolated or eradicated. The film is a visual trip through the Amazonian labyrinth that will look sublime on the Union Square screen.

The future doesn’t have to be dystopian. There is also hope—be it in films or people. This year, TIFF debuts the Teen Spirit section, featuring films for Gen Z and a jury composed of teenagers. What can you tell us about this section, the jury, etc.?

Teen Spirit follows in the footsteps of the EducaTIFF program, narrowing its scope to the 16+ age range in an effort to engage this demographic, which is largely absent from film festivals. It offers a personalized selection of films with, about, and for teenagers. We’re opening up to Gen Z in hopes of building a rapport with a generation whose relationship with the world is significantly different from those who’ve been attending TIFF for over two decades. We want to know the extent to which teens see themselves in the films of this new section, and we've invited not professionals, but young people from Cluj—ages 16 to 20—to serve as jurors and choose their favorite. The initiative caught on instantly: within days of the call, over 150 entries were submitted. While reading the applications, I was pleasantly surprised to find articulate, curious, experience-hungry teens eager to communicate and passionate about cinema. This year’s festival opener, Christy—a tender, empathetic coming-of-age film—is dedicated to them. Personally, I’m eager to see how they react to Southern Chronicles, a Lithuanian film about what it meant to be a teenager a generation ago, in the wild ’90s, exploring identity, love, and coming of age in a time of massive social transformation.

Speaking of the future, we can’t forget short films and debuts. This year includes five debuts from the UK and a ton of predominantly student shorts across Romanian Days and the Local Competition. What are this year’s trends among young filmmakers?

I avoid early verdicts—many filmmakers have radically shifted style and theme between shorts and features. This year’s Romanian Days shorts selection strikes me as solid and eclectic, across a delightful variety of genres—better, in fact, than the features. There’s even a delightful superhero short. Predictable but refreshingly quirky, the British debuts in the Give Me Five section are the remnants of an initially planned Focus on the UK, scrapped last-minute due to logistical issues. Still, we kept five titles that I highly recommend for their contagious freshness and inventiveness: The Ceremony, Paul and Paulette Take a Bath, Sunlight, Layla, and Restless. Also worth noting, one former Local Competition winner, Vasile Todinca, returns to Romanian Days this year with a new short (Alișveriș), fresh from Cannes.

Let’s talk about this year’s Focus: Estonia. From saunas and sci-fi to sequels and satire—what titles do you recommend from this kaleidoscope of Baltic cinema?

The sauna is a true institution in Estonia (it appears in at least three of the 13 films in the program), and it’s partly thanks to it that this country focus exists—specifically due to the breakout documentary Smoke Sauna Sisterhood from two years ago. In connection with Teen Spirit, don’t miss Smile at Last, a restored ‘80s classic whose raw naturalism in portraying fractured yet hopeful adolescent worlds is striking. If Radu Jude were born in Estonia, he would surely have made the two wild, abrasive Alien films about the episodic misadventures of Valdis (dir. Rasmus Merivoo). These are irreverent, excessive parodies that gleefully mash up current trends, risking outrage from all directions.

Of course, the 3x3 section includes Estonia’s Rainer Sarnet, joined by Rodrigo Cortés and Adilkhan Yerzhanov. How do these three voices align and differ from a curatorial standpoint?

Sarnet’s filmography is exuberantly diverse—each film a change of lane, from his modern adaptation of Dostoevsky’s The Idiot to his most recent genre cocktail, The Invisible Fight, with cheeky Orthodox monks doing kung-fu, and the haunting folk-horror fairy tale November. Kazakh director Yerzhanov, by contrast, essentially makes one and the same film dressed in wildly unique clothing each time. He’s one of the few true auteurs, building a singular universe with its own rules, where humor coexists organically with absurdity, naivety, poetry, violence, and cinephilia. Then there’s the Spaniard Cortés, known for dark, high-concept films—he’s the author of my favorite film at TIFF this year: Escape. At first glance it seems like just a thriller, but when you realize how obsessively the protagonist chooses to abandon all privileges and commit horrific acts just to lose his freedom and end up in prison, it becomes terrifyingly authentic, devastating, and deeply relevant to today’s world. Pure Nietzsche.

Let’s not forget the Official Competition, which you described as “a strange Babel.” Can you elaborate? What directions should we watch out for in this year’s competition?

Best to leave your compass at home and lower your guard—especially when diving into the Möbius spirals of Hysteria, The Peacock, and Rains Over Babel, or tackling the stylistic and narrative challenges of Acts of Love, Xoftex, and Debut. The 12 titles vying for the Grand Prize all explore, overtly or subtly, the idea that we live in a world where no one understands each other, where people can’t make sense of it all, and where one concept of reality doesn’t comprehend another. But while reality may offer no solutions, great films manage, through artistic transfiguration, to make sense of it, to offer keys for understanding, perhaps even a way forward. That’s the power of art.

Let’s wrap up with a guided walk through this year’s selection. What stops should we make?

The Mohican in Union Square—a thrilling Fugitive-style action film (bet you’ll want a Corsican vacation afterward); the heartbreaking ending of Three Days of Fish—for all the boys with difficult father-son relationships; Sorda’s unique take on motherhood; the therapy sessions in Acts of Love—mind-blowing; the family chronicle of Saturno—a plunge into the abyss; the incredible actor Eduard Fernandez in Marco, the Invented Truth; the brilliant Marianne Jean-Baptiste in Mike Leigh’s new film Hard Truths—still waiting for Instagram reels of her savage rants; the Lynchian vertigo of The Things You Kill; Sam Riley in the Antonioni-esque Islands—midlife crisis has never been sexier or more brutal; Quisling – The Final Days—a piercingly relevant and morally complex tightrope walk through sovereigntist politics; the stunning choreography in They Will Be Dust—though I still wrestle with its extreme take on euthanasia; the ambiguous meta-delirium on artistic duplicity in The Tirana Conspiracy; the aliens from The Black Hole—straight out of Tim Burton; at least one Béla Tarr film—if not all eight; the Sex-Love-Dreams trilogy; Julia Loktev’s marathon on independent journalism in Putin’s Russia—it’s more of a thriller than The Mohican; and for a truly original, feminist, fierce, and destabilizing Shakespearean take, No Beast. So Fierce.—one of the most explosive films this edition.

Year after year, TIFF also hosts special events, from cine-concerts and Film Food to castle weekends and special screenings. This edition includes Amadeus (dir. Miloš Forman, 1984) and the 50th anniversary of cult classic The Rocky Horror Picture Show (dir. Jim Sharman, 1975). What unorthodox experience are you looking forward to this year? What role do these events play in TIFF’s structure?

They help gather as many niche audiences as possible, because everyone knows there is no homogeneous audience. It’s about designing a Luna Park-style architecture where trap fans and the elderly, hardcore cinephiles and softcore music lovers, novelty seekers and lovers of the old all coexist for ten days, immune to what divides them. In other words, it brings different people together in an increasingly polarized world, uniting them under the same sky for a film or cine-concert. It’s all under one umbrella, like in the competition film Rains Over Babel. Personally, I’m looking forward to the multimedia event The Peasants—I loved the score by Łukasz Rostkowski.

Mihai Chirilov în discuție cu publicul
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Finally, let’s return to our starting point: AI and this year’s festival trailer. Imagine you’re training an AI on this year’s TIFF films to create the next festival. What films must any intelligence—artificial or not—see? Which ones will stand the test of time?

The mere idea of relying on an AI to build TIFF’s lineup is pure suicide. Sure, it depends on how you train the algorithm and which must-sees you feed it—but I refuse to do it. Something tells me that in the future I won’t even have the freedom to refuse. What I do know for sure is that AI will find a twisted way to appropriate 1984 to reinforce its supremacy and authoritarianism.