Sweet Angel Baby

CompetitionDocumentaryVIRTUAL EXCLUSIVE

The work of Two-Spirit, nêhiyaw (Cree) artist George Littlechild took the reality of residential schools head-on decades before it would enter the collective Canadian conscience. A Sixties Scoop survivor, Littlechild uses his “whimsical,” improvised technique to unlock colourful exuberance and long-held trauma. Conor McNally, a Métis filmmaker, honours his journey. Littlechild was given his great grandfather’s name, nanekawâsis, at a Powwow in 2001. Both Littlechild and the eponymously named film embody its meaning: “swift child.” As we pay witness to a childhood shuffled between foster homes and Littlechild’s emergence as a fleet-fingered artist, the documentary makes fluid connections between past and present. Archival footage blends with warmly tinted 16mm interviews of 65-year-old Littlechild, still evolving in his practice, still passing on his deeply felt knowledge of his ancestry and “Rainbow” spirit. Whereas his partner, John Powell, uses art to govern his freewheeling tendencies, Littlechild harnesses paint to break free of his circumscribed daily life, healing himself and his audience through enlightened transcendence. nanekawâsis begins and ends with a sky full of colour, beautifully eliding time, revealing how light and dark, expectancy and reflection are all indispensable parts of life’s circle.

Made au CanadaCompetitionFeatureVIRTUAL EXCLUSIVE

This homage to Bollywood spectacle and intergenerational bonds is a time-hopping, candy-coloured crowd pleaser that induces huge smiles and big laughs while also tackling the resonant themes of enforced gender roles, passive racism, and the seismic shifts of growing up. Azra (a stunning Amrit Kaur) lives in cohabitating sexual bliss with her girlfriend in Toronto in the VHS-popping 90s when she receives news of her father’s death. One voltaic match cut later and she’s on a plane for the funeral in Pakistan with her brother (Ali A. Kazmi), where her mother (Ms. Marvel’s Nimra Bucha) nitpicks and her culture shuts her out of the mourning process. Then another and we’re in 1969 Karachi, swept up in the whirlwind romance of Azra’s rule-breaking mother (also played by Amrit Kaur, underscoring mother-daughter parallels) and dashing father (Hamza Haq) before their tough transition to 1989 Nova Scotia. Each temporal hop peeling back another layer of how Azra’s family dynamic came to be. The Queen of My Dreams is itself a moviegoer’s dream, chock-full of eye-popping visuals, high production value, and fantastic fashion. Revealing how salvation can come in unlikely ways from unlikely sources.

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FINNISH • ENGLISH ST | A 15-year-old Finnish girl—and her older incarnation—ponder the resemblance between first love and nuclear explosions under a sky heavy with Chernobyl clouds. Befriending a loner who seems radioactive to others, Mariia tries to keep their connection from melting down, basking in the light of devotion, however blinding. By-the-book Mariia (played at different ages by Rebekka Baer and Laura Birn) comes from a close-knit but struggling household, her mother affected by a mysterious cancer. Her situation is contrasted with that of self-possessed Mimi (Anni Iikkanen), whose home is blighted by alcoholism and neglect, its wallpaper peeling. But, swimming beneath crystalline surfaces and entwined in one another’s arms, they try to drown out the ills of the world. Crimped hair and oversized sweaters capturing the innocent 80s bubble Mariia thrives in and the euphoria Mimi strives to inhabit, despite the heaviness of experience. Guided by its source material, the 2011 novel by Vilja-Tuulia Huotarinen, and inflected with the shifting haze of ennui and energy that is a hallmark of Sofia Coppola’s star-dusted tragedies, Inari Niemi’s film is a tonally precise mood piece about girlhood in all its ominous, scintillating paradoxes.

Made au CanadaShort

A gay millennial reels after breaking-up with a popular influencer.

Made au CanadaShort

A young woman and her friend are led to a metamorphic realization when they ponder the nature of dreams.

Made au CanadaShort

One day this kid will feel something stir in his heart and throat and mouth. One day this kid will reach a point where he senses a division that isn’t mathematical. One day this kid will talk.

Made au CanadaCompetitionShort

Between loads of laundry at the corner laundromat, Cooper shares the tumultuous story of her gender reassignment journey.

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Determined to breathe new life into the queer stock character of the sex worker, budding writer Max (masquerading as Sebastian) becomes a “digital hustler” while bathing in the words of Bret Easton Ellis. What starts out as novel fodder becomes a high-stakes balancing act between liberation and exploitation. Close-lipped and leery of scrutiny, even the publicness of social media, “wholesome boy next door” Max (Ruaridh Mollica) is able to act out his “desire to taste everything” in London bedrooms. First with older men, including the kind and curious Nicholas (Jonathan Hyde), then with more daring configurations. But when shame unexpectedly creeps into his initial, unfettered view of the sex trade, Max finds everything from his book proposal to his very sense of self tested. Before he lets his obsession with how he’s perceived subsume him, he must decide what kind of writer he will be, what kind of lover, what kind of man. His finger on the cultural pulse, Indiewire’s LGBTQ+ Filmmaker on the Rise Mikko Mäkelä (A Moment in the Reeds, I+N31, 2018) pits the coldness of market forces against the beating of a warming heart to see which—in the 21st century—will endure.

DocumentaryVIRTUAL EXCLUSIVE

Is intimacy coordination censorship? Does it kill the magic? In France, where having an intimacy coordinator is the exception, Paloma Garcia Martens is helping creators to privilege process as much as results. Together, striving for feminist content where “bodies, breath, touch” lead to connection, not exploitation. Scenes of intimacy are a stunt like any other, capable of great danger and lasting harm. But intimacy coordination requires precious hours, and even those on board can feel tested by the process. Edith Chapin’s documentary is a searching portrait of the profession, featuring a wide array of women in the TV/film industry—everyone from the director and actresses of the queer TV show Split in Paris, which features a particularly novel squirt scene, to the intimacy coordinators of Sex Education and Bridgerton in London. These women listen to and debate with one another about what’s being transformed because of their influence and what’s changing far too slowly. Leading the push for an industry with fewer “weird stratagems” and outright lies, and more modesty garments, more consensus. Hoping to shape not only how bodies are filmed, but how we, as a society, see them. Also in this programme : SPLIT/ ÉPISODES 1 + 2 IRIS BREY | FRANCE | 2023 | 37 MIN | FRENCH EST On the set of a film, Anna, a 30-year-old stuntwoman, falls in love with the star she is body double for. Will Ana—who thought she was happy in her relationship—have the courage to come out of her heterosexual shell to confront this overwhelming desire?

Queerment QuébecCompetitionShort

Five thousand twenty five walks. Fifty-two miles of floors mopped. Seventy hours watching movie stars kiss. Alice, a headstrong elder dyke, navigates environmentally induced illness while she contends with her unique notion of legacy.