myDylarama

Don Josephus Raphael Eblahan : What it means to listen

Elise Loiseau — 2026-02-01T10:07:01Z

In the space of four years, the Filipino director has made his mark with his intimate and luminous short films. Discovered in France in 2021 at the Clermont-Ferrand Short Film Festival, he has consolidated his reputation on the global short film circuit with the release of Vox Humana, and is still at the forefront of the cinematic representation of the indigenous peoples of the northern Philippine archipelago, where he was born.

Platforming stories that need to be told

In four films, Umbilical Cord to Heaven (2021), Hilum (2021), The Headhunter's Daughter (2022) and Vox Humana (2024), Don Josephus Raphael Eblahan has defined his recognisable style through recurring formal elements: the use of natural light, square frames, and the hazy quality of his images. The combination of this formal beauty and the evocation of themes that are both intimate and political has won over the most prestigious festivals: in Clermont-Ferrand, Hilum won the student prize and a special mention in 2021, and Vox Humana won the student prize in 2025. As for The Headhunter's Daughter, it won the coveted Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival in 2022, amongst other awards. Prior to that, his first short film, Umbilical Cord to Heaven, won the CineYouth Best Experimental Film Award at the 55th Chicago International Film Festival in 2019.

This recognition from the industry and the public celebrates a unique voice that draws inspiration from both personal and historical trauma. His films evoke mourning and the colonial experience, and tell the story of the precarious situation of indigenous peoples, whose identities have been undermined over the centuries by successive colonisations, first Spanish, then American. [1] These films draw their strength from their tranquil pace, their meditative quality, and the resolute message humbly conveyed by their director, who identifies nature, spirituality, and cinema as powerful saving forces capable of restoring his heroines' capacity for self-determination.

His relationship with his indigenous identity is, in part, the subject matter of his films: he became aware of this after spending several years in the West. Eblahan was born in La Trinidad in the Philippines, grew up mainly in the Baguio region, then left the archipelago for four years to study film in Chicago. However, before embarking on a career as a filmmaker, it was music that first appealed to him: coming from a family of musicians, he learned to play the guitar and compose long before he became interested in cinema. The turning point came with Rob Marshall's film Nine, when, captivated by its soundtrack, Don researched the film and its story, discovering Fellini's Eight and a Half (which inspired Nine), then Italian and French cinema, and so on. This led him to leave the archipelago to study film at DePaul University in Chicago. Years away from the archipelago gave rise to a desire to recount, through the prism of autofiction, his experience as an Igorot trying to find his place in a Westernised world:

Being in the West has held up a mirror towards myself, perhaps instigating a reason to be more inquisitive about my own identity, the history of the land/or islands I grew up in, and the interpersonal and spiritual voices that call for their stories to be told.

As told to Jason Tan Liwag for Rappler.

Conveying the complexity of indigenous identities

This is one of the main challenges facing cinema, which also exists in response to a form of media mistreatment of indigenous identities and has set itself the task of challenging this representation:

The intersection between Indigenous identities and TV hasn't always been the friendliest (even Philippine TV) — from caricatured portrayals to insensitive remarks about our culture.

As told to Jason Tan Liwag for Rappler.

Given the precedent set by this, Don writes his main characters – all female for now – imbued with complexity, such as Lynn, the heroine of The Headhunter's Daughter, who crosses mountains to reach the city to perform in a television competition, hoping to be heard by her father. The staging hints at the stigmatisation suffered by indigenous people, through the condescending questions asked by the competition host. Lynn's response, that her motivation is not money, contradicts this stereotype:

The fact that Lynn is questioned so directly on screen draws attention to our media's tendency to sensationalize otherness, tragedy, sentimentality, and misery in the lives of Indigenous Filipinos. I wanted to give my protagonist a different response and perspective to this cyclical trend. Lynn's choice to approach her audition in that way reveals a hidden resilience that, I believe, was necessary in that situation.

As told to Élise Loiseau.

Eblahan's cinema does not merely renew the representation of indigenous communities in the northern Philippine archipelago, it places it within a broader narrative, that of the struggle against the erasure of cultural identities and the marginalization of indigenous communities. The Headhunter's Daughter does not open with images but with a song, inspired by a traditional song of African slaves, immediately placing the film in a universe that transcends the condition of the indigenous Filipino characters: "I wanted this historical context to be introduced at the beginning of the film, even before the first images appeared. Establishing this context before the film even appears on screen sets the stage, encouraging the audience to listen more attentively and perhaps situate themselves in a historical and sociological space before the story even begins.

I wanted this historical context to be introduced from the very beginning, even before any visuals are seen. To linger around this context before the film emerges from the black screen sets a precedent that urges participation with the audience to listen closer and perhaps situate themselves in a historical and sociological headspace before we introduce any direct narrative

From Rappler.

A way of bringing his roots to the global cinema stage, while placing them in a broader context, that of the domination and dehumanisation of entire population groups. His cinema consists not only of bringing these mechanisms of domination to life on screen, but also of exploiting the cinematic codes associated with different genres in order to subvert the traditional representation of indigenous peoples, which is considered either stereotypical or condescending:

Films about indigenous peoples, made by indigenous people, can be thrillers, westerns, science fiction films (...) We too have complex stories that we have to deal with while living in the modern world. We are not just “savages” or victims of colonisation. We exist, and we too can look cool in trench coats.

From Techbuzznews.

Hilum and Vox Humana: listening as an act of reparation

A recurring theme in her filmography is that listening to others is presented as a powerful voice of emancipation and healing, whether it be in relation to grief, the quest for recognition, or the erasure of cultures that haunt her heroines. This was already central to her second film, Hilum, whose meaning is contained in the polysemy of its title:

Hilum is a Filipino word that translates differently in two dialects. In Cebuano it means “to render silence”, while in Tagalog it means “to heal an open wound”. The connection between the two meanings is the essential element of the film.' Hilum is a Filipino word that translates differently in two dialects. In Cebuano it means “to render silence”, in Tagalog it means “to heal an open wound”. The connection of both meanings is the important binding force of the film.

Don Rafael Josephus Eblahan

It is indeed silence and the attentive listening of a shaman that seem to heal the strange illness afflicting the heroine of the short film, who regains her ability to shed tears after recounting the accident that cost her father his life. This ritual combining listening and narration takes place on a beach, under a blinding sun, in an atmosphere reminiscent of a mystical EMDR session (the shaman asks the heroine to accompany the story of the accident with eye movements from right to left).

In Vox Humana, Don Josephus Raphael Eblahan continues his reflection on listening, making attention to others an act of reparation. The film, shot with a crew of just fifteen people over three days in the Cordillera mountains, takes up and develops this same idea, this time embodying it in the form of a sound engineer tasked with deciphering the language of a man discovered in the wild, who is suspected of being responsible for an earthquake. The film borrows from the codes of detective and science fiction films, while also exploring listening to others and nature as possible ways of resolving trauma. This time, it highlights the mechanism of exclusion suffered by communities perceived as ‘incomprehensible' or even ‘non-human':

We wanted to make a film about the language of listening: listening to the earth, to individuals, and even to “non-human” creatures. Through the question of sound, I wanted to explore this concept of “non-human”, particularly how this notion can be used as a weapon against marginalised populations whose land and rights are often confiscated.

From Rappler

The director is currently working on his next film, Hum, his first feature film currently in development. This project will be loosely based on the myth of the indigenous Ifugaos tribe entitled the myth of Ovug (or ‘myth of the divided child') and will feature a rodeo rider searching for her twin who disappeared in the forest after an earthquake. It promises to be an extension of his short films: a poetic fiction, where the intimate and the political come together in a meditation on collective memory, trauma and the survival of indigenous Filipino identities, which should allow Don Josephus Raphael Eblahan to continue weaving stories of these heroines into the collective narrative of the Philippines and world cinema.

[1] The Philippine archipelago resisted Spanish occupation for more than three centuries, but eventually succumbed to the influence of American occupation. The Spanish ceded the Philippines to the Americans for $20 million in 1898

Don Josephus Raphael Eblahan : ce que signifie écouter

Elise Loiseau — 2025-06-02T18:47:43Z

En l'espace de quatre ans, le réalisateur philippin a imposé son style grâce à ses courts métrages intimes et lumineux. Révélé en France en 2021 par le Festival du court métrage de Clermont-Ferrand, il consolide sa réputation sur le circuit mondial du court métrage avec la sortie, cette année, de Vox Humana, et continue de renouveler la représentation cinématographique des peuples autochtones du nord de l'archipel philippin, dont il est issu.

Faire entendre les histoires qui demandent à être racontées

En quatre films, Umbilical Cord to Heaven (2021), Hilum (2021), The Headhunter's Daughter (2022) et Vox Humana (2024), Don Josephus Raphael Eblahan a su imposer un style reconnaissable par ses qualités formelles récurrentes : l'utilisation de la lumière naturelle, le recours au cadre carré ou encore la qualité brumeuse de ses images. L'alliance entre cette beauté formelle et l'évocation de thèmes à la fois intimes et politiques a séduit les festivals les plus prestigieux : à Clermont-Ferrand, Hilum y a remporté le prix étudiant ainsi qu'une mention spéciale en 2021, et Vox Humana le prix étudiant en 2025. Quant à The Headhunter's Daughter, il a entre autres remporté le très convoité Grand prix du jury du Festival de Sundance en 2022. Avant cela, son premier court, Umbilical Cord to Heaven, avait remporté le prix du meilleur film expérimental de CineYouth au 55ᵉ Festival international du film de Chicago en 2019.
Cette reconnaissance de l'industrie et du public vient saluer une voix singulière, qui puise son inspiration dans les traumatismes aussi bien personnels qu'historiques. Son cinéma évoque le deuil, l'expérience coloniale, et raconte la ligne de crête sur laquelle évoluent les autochtones, dont les identités ont été, au fil des siècles, mises à mal par les colonisations successives, espagnole d'abord, puis américaine [1]. Ces films tirent leur force de leur rythme tranquille, de leur qualité méditative et du propos résolu, humblement déroulé par leur réalisateur qui désigne la nature, la spiritualité et le cinéma comme de puissantes forces salvatrices capables de rendre à ses héroïnes leur capacité d'autodétermination.

Son rapport à l'identité autochtone constitue, en partie, la matière de son cinéma : il en a pris conscience après avoir passé plusieurs années en Occident. Eblahan est né aux Philippines, à La Trinidad, a grandi principalement dans la région de Baguio, puis a quitté l'archipel quatre ans, le temps d'étudier le cinéma à Chicago. Pourtant, avant d'embrasser une carrière de cinéaste, c'est la musique qui l'a d'abord appelé : issu d'une famille de musiciens, il a appris à jouer de la guitare et à composer bien avant de s'intéresser au cinéma. Le tournant s'opère grâce au film Nine de Rob Marshall, lorsque, happé par sa bande-son, Don a investigué le film et son histoire, et découvert à cette occasion Huit et demi de Fellini (dont Nine est inspiré), puis le cinéma italien, français et ainsi de suite. Ce qui le mènera à quitter l'archipel pour étudier le cinéma à la DePaul University, à Chicago. Des années loin de l'archipel qui feront naître le désir de raconter, à travers le prisme de l'autofiction, son expérience d'Igorot tentant de trouver sa place dans un monde occidentalisé : « Vivre en Occident m'a permis de me regarder dans un miroir, ce qui m'a peut-être incité à m'interroger davantage sur ma propre identité, sur l'histoire de la terre et des îles où j'ai grandi, et les voix interpersonnelles et spirituelles qui demandent que leurs histoires soient racontées [2]. » Une prise de conscience qui donnera naissance à quatre courts métrages, tous réalisés aux Philippines, avec au casting des interprètes issus de la communauté des Igorots dont il raconte les histoires, auxquelles il redonne nuance et complexité.

Redonner aux identités autochtones leur complexité

C'est l'un des enjeux principaux d'un cinéma qui existe aussi en réaction à une forme de maltraitance médiatique des identités autochtones, et qui s'est donné pour mission assumée de renouveler cette représentation : « Les relations entre les identités autochtones et la télévision n'ont pas toujours été des plus amicales (y compris au sein de la télévision philippine) – qu'il s'agisse de représentations caricaturales ou de remarques indélicates sur notre culture. » [3] Face à ce précédent, Don écrit des personnages principaux – pour le moment tous féminins – à qui il redonne toute leur complexité, à l'image de Lynn, l'héroïne de The Headhunter's Daughter, qui traverse les montagnes pour rejoindre la ville afin de présenter sa chanson lors d'un concours télévisé, dans l'espoir d'être entendue par son père. La mise en scène laisse deviner la stigmatisation dont les autochtones sont victimes, à travers les questions condescendantes que l'hôte du concours lui adresse. La réponse de Lynn, qui lui répond que sa motivation n'est pas l'argent, contredit ce stéréotype : « Le fait que Lynn soit interrogée sans détour à l'écran met en lumière la tendance de nos médias à sensationnaliser l'altérité, le tragique, le sentimentalisme et le malheur dans la vie des Philippins autochtones. Je voulais montrer un personnage qui offre une réponse et une perspective différentes face à cette tendance cyclique. Le choix de Lynn d'aborder son audition de cette manière montre une forme de résilience cachée qui, je crois, était nécessaire dans cette situation [4]. »

Le cinéma d'Eblahan ne se contente pas de renouveler la représentation des communautés indigènes du nord de l'archipel philippin, il l'inscrit dans un récit plus large, celui de la lutte contre l'effacement des identités culturelles et de la marginalisation des communautés autochtones. The Headhunter's Daughter ne s'ouvre pas sur des images mais sur un chant, inspiré d'un chant traditionnel d'esclaves africains, inscrivant d'office le film dans un univers qui dépasse la condition des personnages autochtones philippins : « Je voulais que ce contexte historique soit introduit dès le début du film, avant même l'apparition des premières images. Le fait de poser ce contexte avant même que le film n'émerge sur l'écran pose le décor, qui incite le public à écouter avec plus d'attention, et peut-être à se situer dans un espace historique et sociologique avant même que l'histoire ne commence [5]. » Une manière de mettre sur la scène cinématographique mondiale ses racines, tout en les inscrivant dans un contexte plus large, celui de la domination et de la déshumanisation de groupes entiers de population. Son cinéma consiste non seulement à faire exister à l'écran ces mécaniques de domination, tout en exploitant les codes cinématographiques rattachés à différents genres afin de subvertir la représentation traditionnelle des autochtones, jugée soit stéréotypée, soit condescendante : « Les films sur les populations autochtones, réalisés par des autochtones, peuvent aussi bien être des thrillers, des westerns, que des films de science-fiction (…) Nous aussi nous avons des histoires complexes, que nous devons affronter, tout en vivant dans le monde moderne. Nous ne sommes pas seulement des “sauvages” ou des victimes de la colonisation. On existe, et nous aussi on peut avoir l'air cool en trench-coat [6]. »

Hilum et Vox Humana : l'écoute comme acte de réparation

Une proposition récurrente au sein de sa filmographie : l'écoute de l'autre est présentée comme une puissante voix d'émancipation et de guérison, qu'il soit question des deuils, de la quête de reconnaissance ou de l'effacement des cultures qui hantent ses héroïnes. Elle était déjà au cœur de son second film Hilum, dont le sens est contenu dans la polysémie de son titre : « Hilum est un mot philippin qui se traduit différemment dans deux dialectes. En cebuano, il signifie “rendre le silence”, tandis qu'en tagalog, il signifie “guérir une blessure ouverte ”. Le lien entre les deux significations est l'élément essentiel du film. [7] » C'est bien le silence et l'écoute attentive d'un chamane qui semblent guérir l'étrange maladie dont souffre l'héroïne du court métrage, qui recouvre sa capacité à verser des larmes après avoir narré l'accident qui coûta la vie à son père. Ce rituel mêlant écoute et narration prend place sur une plage, sous un soleil aveuglant, dans une atmosphère s'apparentant à la fois à une mystique séance d'EMDR (le chamane demande à l'héroïne d'accompagner le récit de l'accident par des mouvements oculaires de droite à gauche) et à un rêve éveillé.

Dans Vox Humana, Don Josephus Raphael Eblahan poursuit sa réflexion sur l'écoute, en faisant de l'attention portée à l'autre un acte de réparation. Le film, tourné avec une équipe réduite à quinze personnes en trois jours dans les montagnes de la Cordillère, reprend et développe cette même idée, en l'incarnant cette fois sous les traits d'une ingénieure du son chargée de décrypter le langage d'un homme découvert dans la nature, et que l'on soupçonne d'être responsable d'un tremblement de terre. Le film reprend les codes des films policiers et de science-fiction, tout en faisant là aussi de l'écoute de l'autre et de la nature de possibles chemins de résolution des traumas. Il y met cette fois en scène le mécanisme d'exclusion dont sont victimes les communautés perçues comme “incompréhensibles”, voire “non humaines” : « Nous voulions faire un film sur le langage de l'écoute : l'écoute de la terre, des individus, et même des créatures “non humaines”. À travers la question du son, je voulais interroger ce concept de “non-humain”, notamment en quoi cette notion peut être utilisée comme une arme contre les populations marginalisées dont les terres et les droits sont souvent confisqués [8] . » À travers le motif de la prise de son, et la méfiance de certains des personnages (en trench-coat) envers le mystérieux homme au langage inconnu, Eblahan interroge la manière dont certaines voix sont étouffées, voire jamais entendues.

Le réalisateur travaille actuellement à son prochain film, Hum, son premier long métrage actuellement en développement. Ce projet sera librement inspiré du mythe de la tribu indigène Ifugaos intitulé le mythe d'Ovug (ou « mythe de l'enfant divisé ») et mettra cette fois en scène une cavalière de rodéo partie à la recherche de son jumeau disparu dans la forêt après un séisme. Il s'annonce comme un prolongement de ses courts : une fiction poétique, où l'intime et le politique se rejoignent dans une méditation sur la mémoire collective, le traumatisme et la survivance des identités philippines autochtones, qui devrait permettre à Don Josephus Raphael Eblahan de continuer à mêler les histoires de ces héroïnes au récit collectif philippin comme au cinéma mondial.

[1] L'archipel philippin a résisté pendant plus de trois siècles à l'occupation espagnole, et a par la suite cédé à l'influence de l'occupation américaine. Les Espagnols ont cédé les Philippines pour 20 millions de dollars aux Américains en 1898.

[2] “Being in the West has held up a mirror towards myself, perhaps instigating a reason to be more inquisitive about my own identity, the history of the land/or islands I grew up in, and the interpersonal and spiritual voices that call for their stories to be told.” Propos recueillis par Jason Tan Liwag pour Rappler. Interview disponible ici : https://www.rappler.com/entertainment/movies/interview-don-eblahan-director-the-headhunters-daughter/

[3] « The intersection between Indigenous identities and TV hasn't always been the friendliest (even Philippine TV) — from caricatured portrayals to insensitive remarks about our culture. » Propos recueillis par Jason Tan Liwag pour Rappler. Interview disponible ici : https://www.rappler.com/entertainment/movies/interview-don-eblahan-director-the-headhunters-daughter/. »

[4] “The fact that Lynn is questioned so directly on screen draws attention to our media's tendency to sensationalize otherness, tragedy, sentimentality, and misery in the lives of Indigenous Filipinos. I wanted to give my protagonist a different response and perspective to this cyclical trend. Lynn's choice to approach her audition in that way reveals a hidden resilience that, I believe, was necessary in that situation.” Propos recueillis par Élise Loiseau. https://clermont-filmfest.org/the-headhunters-daughter/

[5] “ I wanted this historical context to be introduced from the very beginning, even before any visuals are seen. To linger around this context before the film emerges from the black screen sets a precedent that urges participation with the audience to listen closer and perhaps situate themselves in a historical and sociological headspace before we introduce any direct narrative “ https://www.rappler.com/entertainment/movies/interview-don-eblahan-director-the-headhunters-daughter/

[6] “Indigenous films made by indigenous people can look like a crime thriller, Western, sci-fi film,” he continues. “We have complex stories as well that we're dealing with in the modern world. We're not just savages or victims of colonization—we're here, and we can look cool in a trench coat as well.” Propos recueillis par Christian Cabrera pour Techbuzznews. Interview disponible ici : https://www.techbuzznews.com/sundance-film-festival-2025-vox-humana/

[7] “Hilum is a Filipino word that translates differently in two dialects. In Cebuano it means “to render silence”, in Tagalog it means to “heal an open wound”. The connection of both meanings is the important binding force of the film.” Don Rafael Josephus Eblahan, https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/don-eblahan/hilum-a-short-film?lang=zh

[8] “We wanted to make a film about the language of listening : to the earth, to the people, and even non-human creatures. Through sound, I wanted to interrogate the concept of “non-human” particularly in the lens of how such meaning can be weaponized against marginalized people whose lands and rights are usually taken away.” https://www.rappler.com/entertainment/movies/vox-humana-don-eblahan-interview-toronto-international-film-fest-2024/

Q&A with Morad Mostafa, director of I Promise You Paradise - Clermont-Ferrand 2024

Abla Kandalaft, Elise Loiseau — 2024-02-01T20:04:35Z

Eissa, a 17-year-old African migrant in Egypt, races to beat the clock and save his loved ones after a violent incident, no matter what it takes.

Morad Mostafa has a real knack for telling complex, intimate and three-dimensional stories from the perspective of marginalised people. A young girl and her mother in Henet Ward, a teenage boy here, all members of Egypt's African migrant community. It's a beautiful film, in which the play with light and shadows transforms this initially mundane but moving love story into a rich, slightly other-worldly fable.

I Promise You Paradise will be screening at the Clermont-Ferrand International Short Film Festival.

After Henet Ward, I Promise You Paradise also deals with the plight of the African immigrant community in Egypt. What motivated you to tell Eissa's story?

I always try to search for new stories to talk about the Egyptian society through real and different heroes. This time it was about a small family, and two people in love that society strives to keep apart. It is a very complicated relationship about an African immigrant teenager and an Egyptian girl. This is my second film that focuses on African immigrant stories, after “Henet Ward.” I lived during my childhood in a poor neighbourhood, a was very complex place. It had a mix of Egyptians and immigrants, each group with their respective social mores. Therefore, this informed a part of my perception of the world since childhood, through the prism of a society that's a mix of different groups and nationalities, specifically Africans, because I am African as well.

What sort of research did you do?

It is not research in the conventional sense, as much as an attempt to recall some of the situations of that world and that region in which I used to live, by revisiting those moments and that neighbourhood. It is my good fortune that the co-writer of the film “Sawsan Yusuf” still lives in that place, and she was an essential scout for me during the period of brainstorming. Moreover, she created the story. We'd been working together for more than two years to develop the script and we wanted to make it special, because there were many films that talked about the issue of immigration, but these always have the "local" citizen helping the immigrants leave. But I wanted to turn that around, with the African immigrant as the one who helps and seeks to liberate the local citizen, helping them reach safety, as if he was promising them paradise from their perspective.

Can you tell us more about the use of light in your film? The play on light / shadows creates both a stark intimacy and an eeriness that permeates the film?

Stories are always, for me, the ones that dictate the method of narration and style. For this film, I wanted to leave space for the images, in order to tell the story with a little mise-en-scène in moments of tension, and movement of characters, but I relied more on paintings, especially since the places we filmed in are indeed historical and visually very attractive places. To come up with the frames and light, I made a storyboard and drew each frame before the start of filming, so that I could see the film completely and ensure its consistency.

Did the success of Henet Ward help in any way in making this film?

Henet Ward was the cornerstone of my career. This film and everything I did after it are ways for me to talk about different topics involving Egyptian society. It helped me a lot, especially since its world premiere was at the Clermont-Ferrand IFF. There, I learned what a short film really means, and so much about making shorts in general.

What were the biggest hurdles in the shooting process?

The filmmaking process was not easy at all. In my opinion, this is a road movie, and this the most difficult genre. Also, there was a limited budget for the film to be completed, so we had to compress the filming schedule to only three days.

What are your hopes for Clermont 2024?

I hope it will be a very successful edition, as we are always used to from the festival, and that it continues in full force, because it's a land of short films, and a destination for all their makers. So I wish it all the best.

Q&A with Phoebe Arnstein, director of If You're Happy - Clermont-Ferrand 2024

Abla Kandalaft, Elise Loiseau — 2024-01-28T16:58:35Z

A woman struggles with the pressures of motherhood and uses a childish game at a local baby group to vent her fury, sparking an unexpected chain reaction.

The chaos, misery, elation, isolation and general upheaval - positive or negative - generally associated with early motherhood is such fertile ground for visual story-telling that I'm surprised it's not the focus of many short films. In If You're Happy, director Phoebe Arnstein utilises the format in the best possible way, taking us along on an emotional roller coaster that culminates in a cathartic moment of explosive rage. Many mothers will identify with Lotte (Erin Doherty) but, that aside, it's an often humorous, astutely portrayed slice of human life, and a remarkable filming feat with its 8 baby-strong cast.

If You're Happy is showing at the Clermont-Ferrand International Film Festival 2024.

Where did you get the idea for the story?

Writing IF YOU'RE HAPPY became a refuge during the early days of motherhood. It was a way for me to fight for my visibility and validate the solitary and often surreal moments I experienced as a new mother. I wanted to make a film that reflected the absurdity, the loneliness, the exhilaration, the joy, the physical sacrifice and the emotional resilience that is demanded of a woman when they become a mother for the first time.

How did you get your cast and crew together? How was it shooting with a baby?

I knew Erin Doherty's work from THE CROWN and CHLOE, however it was when I saw her at the National Theatre playing Abigail in ‘The Crucible' that I knew she was perfect for this role because of the way she allowed Abigail's rage to slowly build and spill over. She is mesmerising. The crew were a combination of heads of departments I had loved working with before on other projects, and suggestions from my producers (Sophia Gibber and Scarlett Barclay) who both have great taste and instinct. It was a happy marriage! The hero baby was played by twins to maximise the amount of legal time we could have with them on set. They were brilliant and did everything we needed them to do at the right time – kudos to their mum and my 1st AD who worked our shooting schedule around their routine so we could capitalise on times during the day when they would be hungry, tired or relaxed. When it came to the baby group shooting day however, it was absolute pandemonium! Eight babies on set all with different needs and schedules, combined with the very heavy and intricate camera coverage I needed for those scenes – it's a miracle we completed the day!

What's your own background as a filmmaker?

I worked as a Clapper Load (2nd AC) on productions such as THE CROWN and THE WORLD'S END for almost a decade. It was an invaluable period that taught me so much about the process of filmmaking. You can have so many ideas as a filmmaker, but you need to know where to put a camera and understand technically how to shoot a scene. I would shoot music videos and short films in my time off, with the help of friends who I worked with in the industry – the best film school I could ask for!

What are your hopes for the Clermont FF?

I have a four-month baby and a two year-old at home, so honestly I'm just excited to take a solo trip and to reconnect with myself while watching some exceptional films, drinking a little wine and meeting fellow filmmakers. A prize would of course be the cherry on the cake ;)

What are your top shorts recommendations from recent years?

I love BEAT by Aneil Karia, ENJOY by Saul Abraham and WREN BOYS by Harry Lighton.

For more on Phoebe's work, visit her website here.

Q&A with Ruth Hunduma - Director of The Medallion - LSFF & Clermont-Ferrand 2024

Abla Kandalaft, Elise Loiseau — 2024-01-26T10:16:00Z

A single piece of jewellery holds the story of generations. Director Ruth and her mother go back to Ethiopia and explore her mother's story as a survivor of the Red Terror genocide.

A remarkable and ambitious documentary by Ruth Hunduma. By revisiting her own family's trajectory and a dark chapter in Ethiopia's history, the film serves as a powerful act of remembrance and the need to transmit this knowledge and acknowledgement to future generations.

The short will also be part of the London Short Film Festival and will be screened as part of Ancestral Remembrance at the Garden Cinema on 27 January.

What gave you the impetus to make this film?

As the Tigray war grew and worsened in Ethiopia, myself, my family, and our people were becoming astounded by the lack of media coverage it was receiving - especially due to the severity of the war. The Red Terror Genocide was something my mother always used to talk about in my childhood, and I recognized a reccurring theme; a Western neglect. And thus, selective solidarity. The Red Terror genocide came and went, and remained relatively unknown in its aftermath, and I had a deep dread that the same would happen in this instance. Hence I decided to make this film, using my mother as a vessel, and her experience in the genocide as a symbolic link to the recent war. I not only wanted to shine light on the tragedy of those times, but also highlight the resilience and immense retainment of joy the people of Ethiopia grasped following these times, and continue to grasp. And ultimately, humanise the face of war.

How did you mother welcome it? And your uncles?

My mother welcomed it very warmly. She was nervous, given the political instability at the period, however always had a yearn to tell her story. And this is the most perfect way for it to be told... through the voice of her child. Her legacy.

What would you say where the biggest hurdles you faced?

When I was first out in Ethiopia filming (I shot it in 2 parts, first in June 2022 by myself, and then again in December 2022 with my crew and team), it was in the midst of the war. I got stopped by the military on multiple occasions and even had my camera confiscated at one point. There was a deep sense of paranoia in the air. I managed to shoot incognito for all the public scenes and really embraced the intimate moments with my mother. By the time my crew had come out to Ethiopia, a ceasefire had been declared to weeks prior, but it was still a risk, and we had to keep a close eye for government bodies, and have protective personnel with us, however we managed to rapidly shoot what we needed. And it was a deeply moving experience.

Tell us a bit more about your choices as a filmmaker - your use of archives and perspectives...

I wanted to really lean on artistry and beauty for this film. I didn't want to display Ethiopia in a manner that is all too familiar in society - as war-torn and forlorn - nor make a formulaic war documentary. I like breaking the rules. I wanted to lens the country with the profound beauty I see in it, and give the film the gift or artistic depth and texture. Making this film is a form of care, of paying my dues and respect to my mother and my country, and I wanted to do so in the most beautiful way possible.

Would you say making this documentary has impacted on the relationship you have with Ethiopia?

Absolutely. I've seen sides and corners of this country and its beautiful people in ways I have never seen before. And I've been travelling to Ethiopia my entire life!

What is your background as a filmmaker?

I'm predominantly a narrative writer/director, however have over the last year ventured into documentary and short form (i.e music videos) and I love it! It's great training ground.

What are your hopes for Clermont FF 2024?

I'm hoping to see as many wonderful films as I can and meet the incredible talent that's going to be there. And sip on some lovely French wine!

The unwelcoming side of Britain: Beru Tessema on Lions

Brasserie du Court team, Elise Loiseau — 2023-03-20T13:18:00Z

Rosie, a Congolese teenager, who's recently arrived in London, discovers the unwelcoming side of life in Britain when a misunderstanding with two window cleaners escalates into conflict.

Lions is having quite the successful festival run. Well deserved, for this prescient and rousing short by London-based Beru. The short will be screened as part of a special programme of Clermont highlights in London at the Garden Cinema, in partnership with the festival team and Mydylarama!

The Brasserie team caught up with the Ethiopian-British filmmaker.

You'll be able to catch the film at the Garden Cinema in London as part of the Clermont-Ferrand in London event on 4-5 April!

Jawahine Zentar on Sur la tombe de mon père #ClermontFF23

Elise Loiseau — 2023-02-23T13:57:05Z

We interviewed French filmmaker Jawahine Zentar about her short film heart-felt Moroccan-set Sur la tombe de mon père (On My Father's Grave) selected in the 2023 National Competition (F1 programme).

Isabella Margara on her short Nothing Holier than a Dolphin

Brasserie du Court team, Elise Loiseau — 2023-02-05T14:47:41Z

Two fishermen find a Dolphin accidentally caught in their nets. The Dolphin, on its turn, finds a fisherman drowning in the water and tries to save him.

More myths and legends as inspiration at this year's Clermont-Ferrand Film Festival! This time, they come to us from Greece and through the lens of Isabella Margara in an astoundingly original short that one member of the audience loudly claimed was "the best film he'd seen this year!"

Masterfully inspired by Afro-futurism: Amartei Amar on TsutsuƐ - ClermontFF2023

Brasserie du Court team, Elise Loiseau — 2023-02-05T14:41:11Z

Set in a small Ghanaian town at the edge of a large landfill site that spills into the ocean, the sons of a fisherman, Sowah and Okai, struggle to cope with loss of their eldest brother who drowned during a fishing expedition. Haunted by his demise, Okai believes their brother is still out there…

Speaking at the Clermont-Ferrand International Short Film Festival, filmmaker Amartei Amar explained his choice to draw on the aesthetics of such movements as Afro-futurism. He does so masterfully. This short represents some of the most beautiful facets of the genre with its intermeshing of innocent children's play, socio-political reality and supernatural elements grounded in millennia of myths and traditions. A stunning and ingenious piece of work.

What was the starting point of TsutsuƐ?

TsutsuƐ was born through three spiritually interwoven true stories. The first was from an experience our Producer had when a neighbourhood boy discovered a dead body in an open sewer. As he went to tell others, a storm broke and washed the body away. By the time he managed to get everyone to the spot, it wasn't there. No one believed him and was he labelled crazy. It wasn't until three days later, that the body was discovered in the ocean near where the sewer connects with the sea that the boy was believed. The second story comes from within my own family. Some years ago we lost the eldest brother of my father. He was survived by ten children, all grown except for the last born who also happens to be the only boy. His father passed and was even buried in the UK whilst he was still in boarding school here in Ghana. Because my cousin never got to see his father buried, he couldn't emotionally comprehend the loss when he was told. This manifested in him believing on numerous occasions that he saw his father in the streets and in the faces of other men. The spiritual connection with his late father and the mental toll it took on him during his formative years is something that has stuck with me since. The third true story came from a documentary we were doing on the fishing industry in Ghana. How 70% of what the fisherman take out of the ocean with their nets is just trash. Because of this, they must go deeper out into the ocean and into harsher, sometimes life-endangering, fishing conditions. It is a fearsome task for them, because in Ghanaian culture to drown at sea is to have a spirit condemned to wandering the earth without knowing where is home.

The scenes that take place in the dump are particularly striking visually. What gave you the idea of filming there?

Shooting there was paramount to me as I wanted to create a dramatic dichotomy between the power of the artificial reality versus the natural one, but also show how their global rivalry has an effect on the human condition and the intimate realities within it. The landfill and the ocean to me are brothers rather than enemies and it was important to create a spiritual correlation between the two showing how both are places of play and danger; peace and trauma.

Can you tell us a bit more about Elisha Kirtson-Acquah and Idrissu Tontie Jr., who play Okai and Sowa? Their performances are really powerful.

This was Elisha's first time acting and he's actually from the town we shot in so we're all very proud of him. He just has this energy about him. A fearlessness in his physicality, yet possessing a sort of quiet wisdom in how he sees the world. For me it was important that we were able to capture this side of him. I'm still in awe of him as he was just eight years old at the time of filming, but still continues to grow in the best of ways. With Tontie, I've worked with him before on the short film Vagabonds. It was also his first time acting as he was ten years old then and I could say the same about him as Elisha. He has a talent that I can't wait for the world to see. We are going to do a feature film with him as the lead so exciting times ahead. Both bring amazing amounts of dedication and intensity to their work and I can't wait to work with them again.

How did you shoot the scene that takes place at night, on the shore? How challenging was it, technically?

The logistics of this shoot were possibly the hardest I've ever faced. But we all knew this going in. The one thing I love about independent film, and even more specifically short independent film, is that in order to achieve a look or even just one shot, we have to go to these places and do it in the reality of the moment. With every environment, we have to, as filmmakers, endure what the characters go through. We are on the field, in the real spaces, so we have to find a way, through simple or complex human ingenuity. Honestly, everything you see, we just did in the simplest way you could think of, paying attention more to safety for cast and crew, while trying to achieve it.

What's your favourite short film?

My favourite short film is hard to say because there are so many that have meant so much to me. A one that still is a little treasure for me to watch every now and again is Nefta Football Club by Yves Piat.

What does the Festival mean to you?

This will be my first time for, Clermont-Ferrand, but its reputation to me as a filmmaker is that it is a champion of short film works by auteurs with unique voices both emerging and established. That, at its core, harbors a deep love for the craft of short film and the incredible role it plays in both the creation and evolution of a filmmaker.

Claudia Bottino on A Trois / The Three Of Us

Brasserie du Court team, Elise Loiseau — 2023-01-28T21:25:19Z

Julien, 30, visits his daughter Cléa, 6, whom he has not seen for a while. While the child looks for his attention, Julien makes every effort to come home to Lucie, Cléa's mother. This time he will stay. A touching short with impressive character development, which highlights the emotional complexity that can define a father and daughter relationship.

Italian filmmaker Claudia Bottino discusses her short film, selected in the 2023 National Competition at the Clermont Ferrand Film Festival.

Café court / Short Talk - Claudia Bottino from ClermontFd Short Film Festival on Vimeo.