State Violence Through Three Lenses: Films from CineFest Miskolc 2025

Three faces of a state violence. Three countries, three directors and screenwriters, three generations, three stories—and one powerful, multilayered message. At this year’s edition of the Miskolc International Film Festival – CineFest 2025 – three films stood out to me. Despite their differences in style, genre, and length, they shared common themes and a connective tissue that resonated deeply—not just with me as a film critic, but as a human being. These are my three favorite films of CineFest 2025.

The President’s Cake (Iraq, USA, Qatar, 2025, 102 min), directed by Hasan Hadi, is the first Iraqi film ever selected and screened at an A-list festival. Awarded both the Caméra d’Or and the Audience Award at the Cannes Film Festival, it marks a historic and emotional milestone for Iraqi cinema.

Set in the Mesopotamian marshes during the era of Saddam Hussein, the story follows Lamia, a poor girl living with her beloved grandmother, Bibi, in a struggling, marginalized community. Life under the regime is defined by scarcity and fear. The education system is brutal and authoritarian—children are raised as little soldiers, indoctrinated to die for the dictator. In this harsh world, the weakest and the poorest are shown no mercy.

Lamia is chosen to bake a mandatory cake for Saddam Hussein’s birthday—a grim honor that sets her on a painful journey through the heart of a nearby city in search of three basic ingredients: flour, sugar, and eggs. The narrative follows Lamia and her grandmother as they push through the chaos of the unnamed city—its crowds, its noise, its overwhelming colors. Like a living, breathing anthill, the city teems with stories. Along the way, they encounter a wide range of people—some kind, some cruel—all struggling to survive in their own way under an oppressive regime.

The documentary-style camera work captures a vivid portrait of this picturesque yet perilous world, where not even children are spared from abuse and violence. Yet, despite the harshness, the film never loses its human touch—or even moments of unexpected humor. The will to survive, and the sense of companionship among those at the bottom of the social ladder, emerges naturally and powerfully, without the need for grand declarations. It’s in the looks, the gestures, the silences.

The film’s final scene—a real documentary clip of Saddam Hussein’s lavish birthday celebration—serves as a brutal counterpoint to everything that came before. It drives the message home with devastating clarity, leaving the audience in stunned silence.

The Secret Agent (Brazil, France, Netherlands, Germany, 2025, 158 min), directed by Kleber Mendonça Filho, is another Cannes 2025 standout—earning both Best Director and Best Actor awards.

This political thriller, set during Brazil’s military dictatorship in the 1970s, follows the enigmatic Marcelo as he flees São Paulo for Recife. Though his exact “crime” is never revealed, it’s clear he is being hunted by the repressive regime.

Marcelo’s path intersects with a wide cast of characters—each of them also running or hiding from the state’s secret police. Through their stories, the film paints a chilling portrait of a country where forced disappearances, extrajudicial killings, political assassinations, and constant intimidation have become part of daily life for millions.

The extremity of the violence opens the door to absurd and grotesque moments—like the urban legend of the “hairy leg”—blending surrealism into the brutal realism. Everything seems possible in this chaos: crooked cops, corrupt politicians, hired killers, bodies in the streets, and even a city-wide carnival pulsing through the madness.

Through rich visual and sound design, the film captures a society on the brink, where free thinkers and outspoken citizens have nowhere to hide from the regime’s relentless enforcers.

Breakfast Under the Gallows (Hungary, 2025, 25 min), a short film by Mihály Mokrai, is a haunting, minimalist tale set in an unnamed country ruled by a brutal dictatorship. Shot in stark black and white, the film follows the final minutes of a condemned man—a cook sentenced to death for serving a failed dinner to the dictator—and his executioner.

As the two men walk through endless, pitch-dark stone corridors reminiscent of medieval dungeons, a quiet intimacy forms. Step by step, they discover how much they share: both are, in different ways, victims of the same ruthless regime. The gallows, which await at the end of the corridor, are not just the site of death but a strange space of connection.

While waiting for the dictator and his entourage—who are said to enjoy watching the “death dance,” where the rope is intentionally too short to break the neck cleanly—the executioner and the prisoner share a sandwich and a sip from the hangman’s flask. It is a moment of simple humanity in a place designed to strip it away.

In the end, the dictator never arrives. The execution proceeds in silence. In a final act of compassion, the hangman uses his own weight to ensure the cook dies quickly, sparing him the suffering intended by the regime. A small gesture—but a profound act of solidarity and resistance.

The President’s Cake softens the brutal reality of Saddam Hussein’s regime with elements of a fairy tale, seen through the eyes of a child. The Secret Agent injects grotesque and magical realism into its portrayal of oppression, capturing the absurdity of a lawless society ruled by unchecked power.

Breakfast Under the Gallows, constrained by its short format, does not offer parallel narrative threads like the other two. Instead, it relies on potent visual symbolism and meticulous set design to evoke the mechanisms of political and social deprivation—without ever needing to say them out loud.

In the end, despite their different forms and styles, these three stories converge around a common truth: that in the face of state violence and dehumanization, it is human resilience, personal courage, and the innate sense of justice that endure—and ultimately matter most.

By Živa Emeršič

Edited by Yael Shuv

@FIPRESCI 2025