Capture the Magic: AG Picks for the 2024 New Orleans Film Festival (2025)

The New Orleans Film Festival is back for its 35th year, and we’re here to help you narrow down your picks from the more than 150 slated films screening. This year’s selections provide plenty of magic—from witches, to rituals, to the awe-inspiring beauty of the moving image itself. The narrative features and shorts will allow you to travel outside of our world, while the documentaries will get you acquainted with people and places both thousands of miles away and right here at home. See you at the cinema.

Boca Chica

This coming-of-age story from the Dominican Republic features Scarlet Camilo as 12-year-old Desi, a child awakening to the desperate measures her female friends in town are taking to avoid poverty and support their families. Dressed like a tomboy with headphones constantly at her neck, Desi turns to music as her family prepares a wedding for her cousin, Elvis (Richarson Díaz), returning from America, at her family’s restaurant in Boca Chica. While Desi navigates her neighborhood, challenging local kids to spit raps, her family continues to tell a mythical story of themselves as descendents of a famous merengue musician. Desi wavers between child and woman, surrounded by adults who seem oblivious to the objectification and exploitation of the town’s children by tourists. Likewise, her neighborhood friends seem to waver between barely understanding the dangers of prostitution and romanticizing the freedom money provides. Director Gabriella A. Moses captures the tenuous final moments of childhood in scenes where Desi dances to the soundtrack in her headphones while painfully aware of the men calling out to her 13-year-old friends disappearing into the night. —Megan Burns

The Motherload

Van Tran Nguyen and her mother, Sang “Sandy” Tran, take on multiple roles as themselves and characters of movie reenactments in Nguyen’s experimental film, The Motherload, which tackles Hollywood’s glorification of the American War in Vietnam (as it’s more commonly referred to in Vietnam) and analyzes pro-war narratives commonly found in that era of cinema. The film doubles as a satire that critiques classic Vietnam War-era films (while reenacting scenes from The Green Berets, Apocalypse Now, First Blood, etc.) and a mother-daughter journey of reclaimed identity and belonging in a war-scarred Vietnamese culture. Nguyen and Tran take on the roles of “Doc” Gordon and Professor Sang, film critics who dissect the glorification of war, patriotic militarism, and the demonization of Vietnamese people. Meanwhile, hand puppets parody a Hollywood boardroom of filmmakers who reject compelling Vietnamese-centered scripts for yet another rehashing of Vietnam War flicks that can generate a profit. As the show is broadcast, the mother and daughter individually grapple with their distant relationship to Vietnam, whether by fractured family dynamics or homesickness. Nguyen decides to buy tickets to Vietnam and the pair make the trip, in order to reconnect with their ancestral roots—or be doomed to live in the American version of the war narrative. Nguyen playfully weaves the two throughlines to juxtapose what war films sought to propagandize and the lasting generational trauma that war left in its wake. The Motherload is an immensely intricate reframing of Vietnam War-era films that successfully reclaims the Vietnamese voice so long denied. —Van Le

We Strangers

When commercial cleaner Ray (Kirby Howell-Baptiste) is asked at a party what she does for a living, she responds, “I’m a therapist. I listen to people and tell them what they need to hear.” We Strangers tells the story of Ray, hired to clean the home of a wealthy therapist, Neeraj (Hari Dhillon) and the therapist’s neighbor Jean (Maria Dizzia)—a woman whose first interaction with her is a racist questioning as to why she is in Neeraj’s house. As Ray realizes that her race and class render her both invisible and mysterious in the eyes of her employers, she leans into her ability to read people and situations and fakes clairvoyance to make some extra cash. The film uses color and visual texture to juxtapose the cold, sterile conditions of her work with her magical, vibrant home life—a life that begins to crumble the deeper into her job she falls. We Strangers is full of incredible performances (particularly Howell-Baptise and Sarah Goldberg, who plays Neeraj’s wife Tracy) but lacks the emotional heft it seems to be aiming for. Still, well worth the watch, and a promising feature debut from director Anu Valia. —Marisa Clogher

A King Like Me

This documentary offers an up-close and personal view into the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club, following members from outside on the parade route to inside their private clubhouse. A King Like Me, directed by Matthew O. Henderson, provides a wealth of new footage of members that offers insight into what the club means for them and the struggles that Zulu faced during the pandemic. In one interview, a member remarks how much every member of the club eagerly anticipates the day of their own celebratory jazz funeral, a statement starkly contrasted by later footage of sparsely attended, socially distanced funerals during the early days of COVID-19. In addition to shedding light on modern day Zulu, the documentary also makes use of charming archival clips and takes viewers on an insightful dive into the group’s history spanning over a century. Viewers are reminded of Zulu as a reflection of—and response to—the many issues that have faced Black New Orleanians throughout that history. As such, the film doesn’t shy away from the controversy surrounding the group’s signature facepaint. A King Like Me tackles the subject with remarkable grace, balancing critiques of blackface with members’ insistence that the club’s use has deep historical, commentative roots. —William Archambeault

Any Other Way: The Jackie Shane Story

This documentary pays dues to pioneering Black trans singer Jackie Shane (top still image), who first began making a name for herself in her native Nashville during the Jim Crow 1950s. The rhythm and blues vocalist, who passed away in 2019, worked with the likes of Joe Tex and was comrades with Little Richard before fleeing the South and joining the circus as a singer. Eventually, Shane found her footing in Toronto, where she earned a strong following and scored a regional hit with “Any Other Way.” While Shane was offered major opportunities during the 1960s, she refused to compromise her convictions, even turning down an appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show around the period of the Beatles’ big television break due to the condition that she appear without makeup. As writer Elaine Gaber-Katz remarks, “Jackie wasn’t trying to challenge the discourse, she just was a challenge to the discourse.” Any Other Way follows Shane’s career and personal journey up until her mysterious disappearance in 1971 and offers fresh insight into the reclusive decades that led up to the release of her Grammy-nominated boxset on Numero Group in 2017. Although Shane passed before she could make her grand return to the stage, this documentary serves as a powerful testament to her life, convictions, and talent. —William Archambeault

Ghetto Children

The legacy of what was built in the 504 in the ‘90s is the focal point of this New Orleans documentary, featuring the sons of New Orleans rap legends Soulja Slim, Juvenile, and B.G.—Lil Soulja Slim, Young Juve, and T.Y.—spliced with ‘90s footage from Cash Money shows as well as the Magnolia Housing Project. Director Zac Manuel captures the essence of how music in the Dirty South forever changed the rap game, and then enters the intimate space of the next generation trying to make their mark. Three sons dedicated to their art look back on their upbringing and narrate how hip-hop saved their life while reflecting on growing up in the shadow of murder, incarceration, their fathers’ fame, and the streets of New Orleans. Ghetto Children encompasses the hope integrated into the struggles of three young, talented men trying to understand their place in relation to their family and a city flooded with art and violence but still fueling the poetry and music of its people. —Megan Burns

Vs. Goliath: Cancer Alley

From directors Sam Eilertsen and Nate Birnbaum comes the story of Cancer Alley (the stretch of land between New Orleans and Baton Rouge) and the environmental ravaging by its many established petrochemical plants, as well as residents’ ongoing fight for justice. Through personal interviews and decades of news footage outlining the many public health dangers lurking in St. James Parish—which is largely inhabited by descendants of the formerly enslaved—the audience is shown what tremendous individual and environmental impacts the region’s industrial pollutants have had on the majority-Black community. Between the persistent, catastrophic health impacts on residents to the state-sanctioned natural resource extraction and wealth drain by foreign oil companies, much is at stake for the embattled region. Former teacher Sharon Lavigne, the face of activist organization Rise St. James, became a much-needed ardent champion. As Lavigne and her family recount their struggle in Vs. Goliath: Cancer Alley, the audience comes to understand exactly what home, ancestry, stewardship, and community mean to them—and why they’re worth fighting for. —Terra Durio

Basri & Salma in a Never-Ending Comedy

Directed by Khozy Rizal, this 15-minute Indonesian short film explores the struggles of a married couple who, after five years of marriage, remain childless. Basri (Arham Rizki Saputra) and Salma (Rezky Chiki) run an Odong-Odong—a small carnival ride—where they entertain children, compensating for the absence of their own. Their lives take a turn when they attend a tense family reunion, where meddling relatives stir up feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt. As tensions rise, the film reveals the deeper emotional reasons for their infertility. Through humor and heart, the film critiques societal expectations around parenthood and uses moments like a satirical family musical number to highlight the absurdity of these pressures. —Sofia M. Bermejo

Bywater Coven November New Moon Admin Convening

This playful bite of local social commentary, written and directed by Jane Geisler, gently pokes fun at the New Orleans downtown witch culture while sincerely considering such themes as sisterhood and our relationship to social media. At their New Moon Admin meeting, whose agenda they are attempting to get all the way through without being derailed by boozy kombucha, the coven quips and quibbles over the application of their various magickal philosophies to topical issues for the modern witch. Interspersed with hilarious fake social media posts that underscore the dialogue—a delightfully executed technique—this short looks good and feels good while still having something to say. —Holly Devon

Chicken Bones

Gorgeously filmed and utterly unique, Chicken Bones is the short that hit me hardest in the group. I hesitate to refer to any kind of storyline—the hallucinatory depiction of an old woman’s quest for a cigarette amidst visions of her past, as a hurricane bears down on her assisted living facility, is unfettered by traditional narrative. Like our main character Rita (Lu Stand), we are unable to distinguish between past and present; the visuals wash over us like messages from the subconscious. The supernatural was a popular theme at this year’s film festival, but nowhere was psychedelic filmmaking used with such restraint. The film’s riches lie in the controlled beauty of every shot, which frequently reach a compositional depth I usually associate with still photography. So often black and white is employed as a cheap trick to signal artsy intent without actually having to deliver, but filmmaker Abby Waters reminds you how it can be when used out of true reverence for light and shadow. I was awestruck by the sight of Rita watching the hurricane on the levee, sucking on a chicken bone between the eternal flame of a petrochemical refinery and a dark, gentle donkey visiting from her childhood memories. The enigmatic ending felt like an interrupted dream, leaving me both satisfied and wanting upon my return to waking life—and certain that from here on out I’ll be seeing anything Abby Waters wants to make. —Holly Devon

Dark Mommy

When 911 operator Ben (Ben Chandler) works what he assumes will be another uneventful night shift, he gets a call from a malevolent force and the evening takes a chilling turn. Co-written and directed by Courtney Eck and James Gannon, Dark Mommy delves into themes of isolation, fear, and the sudden destruction of perceived safety. The 13-minute horror short highlights how self-imposed isolation can be infiltrated by dark entities, exploring the fragility of reality and personal security. —Sofia M. Bermejo

Dreams like paper boats

In Dreams like paper boats, Haitian director Samuel Suffren strikes the rare balance of bringing an audience into global strife as a lived experience without ever devolving into trauma porn. Shot in black and white, it’s the story of a father raising his little girl while his wife is trapped in the dragnet of immigration authorities, which we learn from a cassette tape she sends her husband. We learn of her troubles as he does, and while watching his heart wrench over the details of her hardships we are not given the option of numbing ourselves to the misery we see so often in the news. But this short is also full of sweetness, particularly in scenes between Edouard and his daughter. The experimental sequences that depict his thoughts, on Haiti’s troubles and his longing for his lost bride, add a high art touch to scenes of everyday life, from bustling market stalls to the quiet apartment where Eduoard changes diapers and scrubs the floors. This tender meditation on the ache of separation and the bright light of familial love offers a place of vulnerability which exposes the intimacy of suffering. —Holly Devon

Évangéline

Set in 1940s Louisiana, Évangéline follows a young Cajun girl whose love for the swamp and desire for independence leads her to defy her father’s warnings and venture into the wild. There, she forms a dark, mystical bond with a rougarou, a creature from local folklore. Written, directed, and edited by Cory St. Ewart, this short captures the eerie beauty of the Louisiana bayou while exploring themes of rebellion, folklore, and the supernatural. With riveting performances by Renée Reed and Hick Cheramie, Évangéline brings Cajun mythology to life in a tale of defiance and transformation. —Sofia M. Bermejo

Game Day Ritual

Three fans of a failing basketball team use a book of folk magic spells to kidnap the team’s star player, Latroy Washington (Landon L. Turner), and reverse their decades-long curse. But things get out of hand when Washington takes the spellbook and uses it to create success for himself. With Game Day Ritual, writer and director Alejandro de Los Rios introduces a fresh concept and a style that evokes Edgar Wright’s comic book action sequences. Unfortunately, some of the energy is lost in the edit, and the result is loose and less punchy. However, it’s still fun and charming with enough under the surface to potentially warrant a longer runtime. —Hayden Legg

I Can’t Be Sorry

Discomfiting, earnest, and theatrically staged, I Can’t Be Sorry is a brief slice of life from director Robert Machoian and starring Lauren Cohan. As a woman anxiously waits for someone in a diner, the film’s ominous soundtrack swells forebodingly. While the viewer is made to wonder at the circumstances surrounding their charged meeting, it unfolds quite differently than planned. —Terra Durio

If I’m Here It Is By Mystery

This is a campy, supernatural romp from Brazil about a fabulous witch who arrives in Rio with a plan to recreate a powerful clan of sorcerers to smite the enemies of magic. Clearly a product of the Age of Instagram, this short is a bit more style than substance, but the whimsical journey to reclaim the lost powers that can defeat a villainous conspiracy is worth taking. From the color-saturated homages to classic horror films to magic’s triumphant return, the production value is as high as the magical diva’s platform shoes in which she struts from scene to scene. It may not rock your world, but as candy that aims to please, it hits. —Holly Devon

Is Now A Good Time?

Like many of Jim Cummings’ shorts, Is Now a Good Time? is an effective demonstration of the writer-director’s acting talents—especially his unique ability to find a balance between the hilarious and the excruciatingly awkward. As Kyle, Cummings assumes the role of a Marvel Studios employee sent to deliver an advanced screening of Captain America 4 to a dying child. As problems arise that cannot be solved with practiced corporate rhetoric and a customer service smile, Kyle spirals into a fit of anxiety and self-loathing. This is a straight sendup of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and you’ve probably heard the jokes before—the runtimes are long, the casting lacks diversity, and it’s all formulaic action spectacle. But it doesn’t feel tired coming from Cummings. And while it may have been more timely three years ago, it’s still relevant enough to make even the least superhero-savvy viewer laugh out loud. —Hayden Legg

Le petit panier à roulettes (The Little Shopping Trolley)

Parents Bảo (Jean Bui) and Trang (Laura Luu) argue about how they hope to wrangle their finances together while building up their new life in Montreal. Directed by Laurence Ly, the film follows this Vietnamese family as they fight to reclaim their livelihood. Trang brings her kids to the local grocery to buy 12 bottles of laundry detergent using coupons, which leads to an argument with the grocery store staff over the coupon’s fine print. The task of interpreting between the cashier and their mother falls on Sao (Chloé Djandji) and Gregory (Miko Nguyen-Cromp), who each play a role in expressing reason and frustration for their mother, who continues to resist the cashier’s racist and condescending remarks about what’s considered “fair.” Director Ly captures a near-everyday occurrence for immigrant families who are quickly forced to confront unfamiliarity and hostility when simply paying rent or running out for groceries, in this case with a little shopping trolley. —Van Le

Living Reality

This short begins as a caricature of early-’90s sitcoms with its colorful set, corny jokes, and vapid dialogue. Theo (played by writer-director Philip Thompson) is a quiet man who lacks the theatrical affectations and cheerful disposition of his four friends—even his wardrobe is drab by comparison. And when he returns to his cramped apartment to watch television, what plays on the screen is equally unexpected. Unlike the well-lit living room and perfectly-staged coffee shop sets that many of us escape to, Theo watches a series of real moments between unnamed characters that play out like clips from home videos. It’s a surprisingly beautiful break from the saccharine sitcom world, and the structure of this short invites us to view reality as something to escape to, not from. —Hayden Legg

Saigon Kiss

In Saigon Kiss, writer and director Hồng Anh Nguyễn depicts a chance encounter between two queer women in bustling Saigon that sparks a serendipitous evening after Mơ (Nguyễn Vũ Trúc Như) lends some roadside help to get Vicky’s (Thương Lê) broken-down motorbike to a nearby mechanic. Mơ and Vicky ride around busy city streets, making small talk on the back of Mơ’s scooter. Hồng Anh Nguyễn wonderfully captures the commotion of Saigon’s streets and scenic cityscapes, where motorists like Mơ and Vicky can just blend into the hectic city traffic. It also makes the coincidental meeting so rare, which Vicky realizes after Mơ drops her off at dance practice and hesitates to say goodbye. However, while Mơ stays to watch Vicky practice, Mơ finally answers the incessant phone calls from her girlfriend that she’s been avoiding and has to decide which relationships she needs. Saigon Kiss feels like many star-crossed, fleeting romances that take place in big cities, where Saigon serves as the backdrop for both the immense depth and sometimes loneliness of queer Vietnamese romance. —Van Le

Say Hi After You Die

Say Hi After You Die begins with an overly comfortable conversation at a diner between friends Ruby (Ruby Caster) and Gloria (Kate Hollowell), as Ruby mimes out an estimation for the length of the massive shit Gloria recently took. As they discuss signs from the universe, Ruby assures Gloria that when she dies she will appear to Gloria as a port-o-potty. And like clockwork, Ruby is hit by a bus, sending Gloria into a tailspin of grief. When a construction project delivers a port-o-potty outside of her window, she does what anyone would: talks to it as if it’s Ruby, filling her in on all the minutiae of Gloria’s life in the weeks since Ruby’s departure. Including an intra-port-o-potty dance number to Laura Branigan’s “Gloria,” Say Hi After You Die is a funny and touching examination of the full spectrum of grief. —Marisa Clogher

Shards

In Shards, a night of hedonism and homoeroticism ends with doubt and discomfort in the cold light of day. Its protagonist, Aurelio (Eduardo Losan), might have gone into the evening’s threeway, with its crack pipe appetizer, thinking he was ready to abandon himself to his appetites, but in the surreal episode that follows he turns inward instead. While there are aspects of the film that could have used a little polish, it poignantly captures the loneliness of unnamable desire, and the comfort in returning to self. —Holly Devon

Spring Will Come

Van Anh stars in this thought-provoking film in which they provide a reflection on relationships, emotions, and curiosities as a young, queer, Saigonese person. Their partner, Ly, lives with Van Anh and becomes irate when she invites Linda (Amy Le), a lost Vietnamese-American woman in search of her late father’s home, to stay with them. Linda and Van Anh share a meal at a street food stall and teach each other how to say, “I feel like a stranger to myself,” in the other’s language. Director Marion Hoàng Ngọc Hill (Ma Belle, My Beauty) poetically uncovers how the Vietnamese diaspora can exist within Vietnam due to the ever-pervasive colonialist and imperialist impacts on the Vietnamese, both there and afar. This shared experience between Van Anh and Linda pays homage to the film’s title, where there is still hope for healing the soul-deep wounds from a traumatic history. —Van Le

Thirst Trap

Lizzie (Lizzie Parmenter) wants what most people on dating apps want—connection. Or at least she used to. Following a bat bite during a cemetery tour she was guiding, Lizzie’s aims shift to something less common. You guessed it, she’s a vampire now. As she makes her way through a slew of men on various apps, she finally crosses paths with one of her own. Samille (Samille Ganges) is a vampire who hunts in a more ethical way: by feeding on sexual predators. Parmenter’s performance is fun, if not sometimes cartoonish, and the comedic writing and timing is sublime. My main critique is simply wishing there were more of it. We see glimpses of remorse as Lizzie remembers her first kill, as well as an unexplored future with her newfound vampiric friend, which feels stunted at the film’s 21-minute runtime. Hopefully this isn’t the last we get to see of Lizzie. —Marisa Clogher

Vodou

Anyone going into Vodou looking for the exotic or lurid will be disappointed by this heartwarming tale of family bonding. In fact, it seems designed as a corrective to exactly such preconceived notions—in the first five minutes the Vodou priestess protagonist insists vociferously to a client that there will be absolutely no zombies in the making of this picture. Instead, the sweet and simple story follows a New Orleans mambo (priestess) teaching her curious niece who has come for the summer how to step into Haitian Vodou’s sacred light. The film’s Witches of Instagram aesthetic and performances are appealing, and though it is very light on plot, it’s a lovely demonstration of what Vodou is and isn’t, and the healing that awaits those wishing to reconnect to ancestral power. —Holly Devon

Audio & the Alligator

In the Venezuelan plains, Audio Caña protects his farm and family from chicken-eating snakes, power outages, and—allegedly—a three-meter long alligator. While most of the people in his life regard Caña’s stories as little more than tall tales, his 6-year-old granddaughter hangs on his every word. We don’t get much of a resolution—in fact there isn’t much of a plot. But director Andrés I. Estrada’s documentary short lets us experience Caña’s life as if we’re just passing through, and gives us the opportunity to choose what we believe: Do we go with what’s more realistic or what makes life more interesting? —Hayden Legg

American Grail: A Quest for the Ivory-billed Woodpecker

After a personal encounter with what he believes to be the presumed-extinct ivory-billed woodpecker, Mark Michaels embarks on a 17-year quest to prove the survival of one of America’s most iconic birds. To endure the doubters and complexities of scientific research, Michaels, a professional sexuality educator turned amateur researcher and filmmaker, relies primarily on hope—not only hope for the bird, but for the future of a human race struggling with the effects of climate change. He is lovingly portrayed as a caring and passionate individual, but American Grail is as much a character piece about the ecosystems of the American South as it is about Michaels. Director and cinematographer Andy Sarjahani’s images of the muddy swamps and verdant forests of Louisiana suggest such density of life that the endurance of the ivory-billed woodpecker seems impossible to deny. —Hayden Legg

Between Delicate and Violent

This experimental documentary, directed by Şirin Bahar Demirel, portrays hands as vessels of memory, capable of both preserving and transmitting personal and collective histories. The film explores how hands’ creations can reveal unspoken narratives often absent from conventional family photo albums. Through striking imagery, Demirel connects these tactile gestures to larger themes of domestic violence, intergenerational trauma, and resilience. By tracing the lines between artistry and underlying violence, the film invites viewers to reconsider the power hands and art hold. —Sofia M. Bermejo

Hold the Line

Directed by The New Yorker Senior Producer Daniel Lombroso, this documentary short examines the impact of an influential female pastor when the country’s largest Protestant organization opts to remove women from leadership roles. Footage was shot in part in June 2023 during the annual meeting of the Southern Baptist Convention in New Orleans. —Sofia M. Bermejo

Motor Motor Blue

Motor Motor Blue abruptly opens to a silent, eerie scene of an underground mine narrative ride. The camera points ahead as the railcar moves along through the ride. The audience is taken through a journey of clips of various things that creator Greg Jenkins dedicated to his late Uncle Gordie, like late nights at the dirt oval race track with only the roar of engines echoing through the cold night air, and the early morning serenity of thick fog creeping through the Appalachian mountainside as coal trucks weave through the mountain roads hauling their cargo. Jenkins’ use of prolonged silent shots brings a solemn awareness that life continues after death, but not without the raw emptiness left behind. Motor Motor Blue shows what’s left of a person that’s no longer there, whose absence leaves us in reverent silence with the places and experiences reminiscent of Gordie. —Van Le

Sandcastles

The surprising story of two very different Singapores: a thriving city-state under constant development located on the southern tip of the Malay Peninsula, and a vanished 19th-century lumber town on the southeast shores of Lake Michigan, buried in sand. As residents tell stories of deforestation, displacement, and ongoing encroachment, the audience sees the surprising revitalizations underway in both locations. Between microscopic close-ups of sandy mountains and zoomed-out city construction sites, director Carin Leong artfully builds suspense as the dangers of human intervention become increasingly imminent over the course of the film. As coral reefs, mountains, and sand dunes are ransacked, and animal as well as human lives are altered, frightening questions are raised: Is anything sacrosanct to humankind? If “there’s nothing off-limits for us to develop,” then what is truly valuable? —Terra Durio

The Kingdom of Humor and Fun

You won’t hear a single laugh from the man himself throughout The Kingdom of Humor and Fun, but this bawdy vignette of Philippe Gaulier, clown teacher extraordinaire, provides a humorous and revealing glimpse into the mind of a self-appointed disciple of comedy. In this unflinching yet humorous portrayal directed by Fraser Jones, we get to know the brash Gaulier, his deliberate and unabashed devotion to the future of his comedic craft, and the life experience that’s granted him the grit and self-possession to share laughter with the world in his own unique way. And make no mistake—though at times uncomfortable, this is a very funny and ultimately touching film. —Terra Durio

Gigi

This animated French film directed by Cynthia Calvi is a tender tale of transformation featuring rich earth tones, an evocative soundtrack, and fluid scene changes. Heartwarming and earnest, this mermaid-inspired memoir tenderly carries the audience through the depths of a painful childhood to Gigi’s triumphant transition. As eyes follow and hands reach out to steady her, Gigi shares the path to realizing her beautiful, truest self. A must-see for fans of Ponyo and Fantasia—I already want to see it again. —Terra Durio

Ghost Protists

In this animated short, the term protist serves as the foundation for a deeper reflection on historical erasure. The film transforms the cyanotype images of algae, known as “flowers of the sea,” created by pioneering photographer Anna Atkins in 1843, into a powerful protest. Through a mesmerizing blend of images and text, this short critiques the colonial violence that underpinned Atkins’ work and the broader erasure of such histories from the scientific and artistic records. It reimagines her botanical documentation as an act of resistance against this forgotten exploitation. —Sofia M. Bermejo

Бабушка Галя и Дедушка Аркадий (Grandma Galya and Grandpa Arkadiy)

Probing closeups, kaleidoscopic textiles, and dissonant looping laughter feature heavily in this simple, unsettling depiction of an older couple, directed by Anna Kipervaser. —Terra Durio

Monsoon Blue

The metaphor of goldfish seeking freedom serves as the emotional anchor in Monsoon Blue, an animated short by directors Jay Hiukit Wong and Ellis Kayin Chan. Inspired by the chaotic yet transformative monsoon season, the film depicts the suffocating search for purpose. Through hand-drawn animation, the narrative follows two goldfish wishing to break free and return to their original form. Meanwhile, a young girl, disconnected from her own existence, mirrors their struggle as she drifts through a city devoid of meaning. They both are trapped—until the arrival of a typhoon shakes their worlds. Like the resilient bamboo that bends but never breaks, the characters must weather the storm to rediscover their purpose and identity. —Sofia M. Bermejo

Moon Moth Bed

A brief, mesmerizing experience, Moon Moth Bed asks us to inspect our perceptions of nature, space, society, ourselves, and what connects those concepts. Directed by Virginia L. Montgomery, this vivid and tactile film is something I’d recommend to fans of experimental non-narrative art house films, students of Donna Haraway, and lepidopteran appreciators. —Terra Durio

Pacifier

Inquiring a group of six individuals about their many varied fears, this confessional-style Chinese short film, directed by Xiaoxuan Han, is a vulnerable invitation for each viewer to recognize what haunts us and the ways we pacify ourselves as a result. —Terra Durio

Wander to Wonder

Ever wonder if costumed TV show characters actually had to face dire conditions of survival? Director Nina Gantz joins screenplay writers Simon Cartwright, Stienette Bosklopper, and Daan Bakker to craft this unsettling story through stop motion puppetry and animation of an ‘80s children show called Wander to Wonder, in which Uncle Gilly (Neil Salvage) and his miniature cast members record their own episodes. But after Uncle Gilly suddenly dies, the miniature actors, Mary, Billybud, and Fumbleton (voiced by Amanda Lawrence, Terence Dunn, and Toby Jones, respectively) are trapped in the house and must fend for themselves. Dunn doubles as the film’s music composer and layers on an especially haunting atmosphere that gives the intricate puppetry work a somewhat classical feel. Near the film’s end, an accident at the house gives them a possible chance to escape and wander about the curiosities of the outside world. —Van Le

The 35th New Orleans Film Festival will take place in-person throughout the city from October 16 to 22, and virtually from October 16 to 27. For more info, check out neworleansfilmsociety.org/lineup-events.