By Anahí Estudillo
Born in Tepic, Nayarit, Mexico, Anahí Estudillo is a social anthropologist from the Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana (UAM-I), a film programmer in training and co-founder of the Nayarit Short Film Show at ProyectoR Cine. In 2018, she was awarded the State Youth Prize by NAYAR LAB, the only independent cinema in the state of Nayarit. In 2019, she was selected to participate in the Chile Locarno Industry Academy.
She has attended various seminars in cultural management and holds a diploma in anthropology of art (CIESAS-LATIR) which led her to carry out ethnohistorical research in cinema and exhibition in Nayarit. This year she is coordinating the Ultracinema 2020 Academic Forum, focused on abandoned cinemas and experimental cinema.
How can we influence film communities from the outskirts? How can we create meeting points through cinema in our communities? These are vital questions for people like me, someone who is dedicated to working in cinema exhibition, research and programming in the city of Tepic, in Nayarit, Mexico.
Drawing links and bridges between audiences and films, under aesthetic and community atmospheres, is how I would describe my work. For five years, when I returned, I set out to challenge the lack and looting of art and culture in my region. To carry out this work with dignity, with the resources we have, we set up an itinerant cinema to intervene in squares, parks, and universities. We have worked at an annual festival dedicated to local cinema, which celebrates its fourth edition this year with experimental and archive cinema. Two years ago, we opened NAYAR LAB, an independent cinema in the center of the city with a permanent billboard that offers access to Mexican, Latino and auteur cinema.
But how can we get people to trust or to be interested in going to independent cinemas showcasing mainly Mexican films? This was already difficult in a small city, that for over twenty years only had cinemas where the consumption of hegemonic narratives is perpetuated, condemning entertainment and cinema to an experience in a shopping mall, with a large combo of popcorn and a soft drink in hand, avoiding reflection among audiences.
Since March, the situation has become even more complex. How can we survive in the face of this health and economic crisis? How can we transform our projects in the face of new circumstances? Today our survival is more uncertain than before, but #FortheLoveofArt and through networking, working within the community and by joining forces with other projects, we have found the energy and courage to continue reinventing ourselves.
I am impressed by the amount of film material and knowledge that has been released in recent weeks, by the number of festivals, premieres and workshops that I have been able to attend "remotely" – including Locarno 2020. I am sure that if it weren’t for the lockdown this would not have been possible this year. Even so, I have not lost hope that before too long, I will be in Piazza Grande waiting for the show to start.
I am open to change. Our project is even being planned as a hybrid digital and face-to-face experience. But it distresses me to think of ourselves today in our homes, accepting a “new normal” that consists of spending hours in front of the computer paying big companies subscription video-on-demand (SVOD). I refuse to believe that we won't return to cinemas anytime soon, or that face-to-face interaction and dialogue are a thing of the past. Many people claim that the internet could open up the possibility for more films to be seen, but I doubt it, due to prevailing economic inequality.
Cinemas are experiencing the worst crisis in decades. Independent spaces might not have economic resources, but do have the ideas and the strength to continue fostering critical and active audiences. We continue to resist amid the lockdown, but above all we continue to create dialogue through cinema, through art.
By Emmanuel Pisarra
A few months ago, I found myself on board a plane to New York City, on my way to UniFrance’s Rendez-Vous with French Cinema. It was early March and COVID-19 was catching up with the West, still in a blur, somewhere between nonchalant disbelief and growing panic.
By Alice Miller
I am spending my ongoing lockdown in my small terraced house in a suburb of Leeds, England. I am fortunate to have a home I can work from and green spaces I can walk to. I am not ready to resume "normal" life.
by Luciana Calcagno
At the time of writing, Argentina has been under preventive and compulsory isolation for 125 days and I must admit that, during this phase, my work is what saved me.
By Jordan Mattos
My work involves finding films to distribute. Functionally, I do the same work a sales agent does. I work with filmmakers and help them tailor a distribution strategy that makes sense for their film, then I go out and sell their films to distributors and pitch to festival programmers.
By Lidia Damatto
2020 started as any other year for sales agents, with a promisingly busy Berlinale. Being completely immersed in a film festival, one has little time for news about the world, reading only industry trades and paying attention only to the buzz around certain films.