Realistic/True Fictions, or Artful Observations of Reality: A Documentary Survey
From a festival centered on documentary cinema in Thessaloniki, Greek critic Stefanos Ntalasis finds a wide variety of films in terms of subject matter, cinematography, and directorial approach, including the FIPRESCI winners and the captivating Golden Swan.
The definition of documentary is broad and inclusive: It embraces creators, people’s stories, as well as the individuals themselves and the subjects each film explores. Documentary “makes room” for everyone—“cinema for all”—while at the same time each work constitutes its own distinct, if not unique, cinematic universe.
The boundaries between fiction and documentary are blurred and often difficult to distinguish. After all, even in documentaries, direction presupposes a certain “position” or “stance” toward the subjects, the story, and the choices regarding what is included in or excluded from the frame. Direction inherently involves selection, addition, and omission.
Similarly, fiction films can also draw on elements of social and cultural reality, while in many cases the two genres coexist creatively and dialectically (see the recent film The Voice of Hind Rajab by Kaouther Ben Hania).
The mission of the FIPRESCI jury was, on the one hand, straightforward—since one film had to be selected from the international competition and one from the Greek competition—and, on the other hand, challenging, because this necessary choice inevitably narrowed the field of worthy candidates.
The themes of the festival’s films compose a broad spectrum of concerns of contemporary people and creators. At the center stands the human being—and often the male figure, as insightfully noted in a critical analysis by Stefanie Diekmann: “toxic masculinity.”
Thus, human beings prevail—their concerns, their loneliness and dead ends, their often harsh-to-relentless social reality, and their social relationships in the modern environment. Topics with universal resonance that appeal to a wider audience gain particular momentum.
Among the key issues highlighted are human rights (Exile(s), Tales From an Island, by Yorgos Iliopoulos, where individuals, place, and history engage in dialogue with bleak conditions and the “curse” of a place); the anxiety for peace and the horror of war (Birds of War, Janay Boulos & Abd Alkader Habak, an exceptional composition of documentation and personal experience from the front lines); the ecological problem (La Pietà by Rafa Molés and Pepe Andreu, with outstanding cinematography, as well as Derek vs Derek by James Dawson, with a male perspective and comedic touches); as well as more personal, introspective journeys (At No Cost by Mary Bouli and The Beauty of Errors by Jukka Kärkkäinen).
At the same time, themes such as the “supporting characters” of life and art (The Golden Grip by Fokion Bogris); art within art (Tiny Gods by Panos Deligiannis); moral and social dilemmas (Stories of a Lie by Olia Verriopoulou); a fresco of an era, a country, and a hysteria (Soap Fever by Inka Achté, Finland–Sweden); and, finally, fenced (and nonexistent) paradises (Around Paradise by Yulia Lokshina) are explored.
The use of “non-professional” individuals as protagonists constitutes a particular challenge: the aim is authenticity rather than acting. Directors often observe with discretion and sensitivity, creating an environment of trust that allows people to express themselves spontaneously. This results in “performances” that are raw and real—a quality not easily found even in fiction.
At the same time, an interesting contradiction emerges: in some cases, a subtle narcissism appears in individuals who are aware they are being filmed (e.g. All About the Money by Sinéad O’Shea), while in others their presence remains authentic and unpretentious (e.g. Bugboy by Lucas Paleocrassas).
In several films, there is a strong sensitivity in terms of content, though not always in form. Despite their great interest, some struggle to balance the dramaturgical axis with the directorial line.
The relationship between the film and the viewer remains a crucial issue. Some creators take the viewing experience into account, while others pursue a work with intrinsic value. In many cases, tighter editing and a more economical use of filmic time—without disturbing the internal rhythm—would enhance flow and coherence. There is, however, a general difficulty in removing unnecessary material, in cutting repetitive scenes that tire or even disorient the viewer.
The films we selected as a jury are, in the International Competition: Birds of War by Janay Boulos & Abd Alkader Habak, and in the Greek Competition: Exile(s), Tales From an Island by Yorgos Iliopoulos, for which Ruggero Calich provides an in-depth, insider analysis.
Beyond the films awarded by the other juries, we would like to highlight a film that personally captivated us: The Golden Swan by Anette Ostrø. The film narrates the story of the young artist Hans Christian Østre, who travels to India to study traditional arts, but is captured and ultimately executed by an armed organization. During his captivity, he writes letters and poems to his sister—material that, along with other archival and personal sources, forms the basis for the film’s composition and creation. The absence of the protagonist’s “living” presence constitutes a challenge, which is transformed into a creative advantage: through limited archival material, the film manages to deeply move the audience.
The Golden Swan is a (male) story of memory and mourning told through a female (and at the same time sisterly) perspective. It is the rejection of hatred and the pursuit of reconciliation. A balm for memory and loss. An elegy of human existence, love, and forgiveness. A poetic cinematic flow with rhythm. A surgical union and composition of people and documents. A transfusion of love and forgiveness. The individual above history. Love as an answer to violence.
Stefanos Ntalasis
© FIPRESCI 2026