Welcome to our hub for Film Festival coverage on FilmRoot. Please find direct links below to our most recently covered Film Festivals including reviews and recaps.
Whilst the drama of Eva is kicked off by tragedy, the film never feels tragic. This is an immensely warm-hearted film which breaks traditional gender roles by casting Endry Cardeño, a trans-woman, as Eva, a grandma forced to take care of her granddaughter. As per the idiom; “it takes a village to raise a child,” we find a small tight-knit community in Tegucigalpa, the largest city in Central America, instead of one of the murder capitals of the world.
In Eva, a trans-woman takes care of her granddaughter after the sudden death of her daughter-in-law. While processing grief, she tries to help her son connect emotionally to his daughter. Amid tensions, reproaches, and silence, Eva and her son embark on separate paths towards the reconstruction of their family bond and place within their community.
The combination of tragedy and tight-knit family and community make Eva a heart-warming addition to the Central American ‘hood film’ genre. Like the first ‘hood films’ from Los Angeles, such as Boyz n the Hood and Menace II Society, and along the lines of Amor Y Frijoles and La Yuma,Eva centers on the experiences of characters growing up in under-served communities in urban environments. It shows that community bonds are the key to surviving through tragic realities of the city in the face of limited government support. For Eva, there’s no evidence of public support for her adoption of her daughter-in-law. Instead, she builds connections with her in-laws, family, lovers, and customers, to turn the overwhelming city into a warm, mellow community.
It’s also wonderful to see nontraditional gender roles integrated so naturally in Eva. By casting Endry Cardeño as a trans, single grandmother, director William Reyes, normalizes trans people on film, trans people in family roles, and trans people as grandparents (especially pertinent as the life expectancy of trans-women in Tegucigalpa is just 32 according to the director William Reyes).
Look out for Eva‘s release in the coming months to catch a tender, poignant film that centers on family and community navigating tragedy.
Slamdance returned to Los Angeles in 2026 to celebrate it’s second edition in the city of angels after moving from Park City , Utah (just ahead of Sundance’s own departure from the city). This grassroots festival was established by a group of filmmakers rejected by Sundance in the 1990s to provide an alternative to the mainstream festival circuit.
Whilst I wasn’t able to attend this year’s festival in-person due to a last-minute call up for jury duty, the Slamdance team made the event incredibly easy to cover for virtual attendees by providing advance screener access to the full lineup. This helped me to stay on top of the festival and stopped me from spilling the tea about the case I served on.
The 2026 festival featured 141 films, including 50 world premieres, selected from more than 10,000 submissions. The programmers maintained a strong commitment to diversity across the slate: 50% of the films were directed by female, trans, or non-binary filmmakers, and 41% by BIPOC directors. We love to see it!
Our coverage focused on international titles from outside the United States and Anglophone world. We’ve highlighted our standout feature films and short films from this year’s slate below.
Top Feature Films from Slamdance 2026
Whilst the Slamdance programmers place a lot of importance on local Los Angeles and U.S. filmmakers, the slate also included a wide selection of films from around the world. Here are our top three feature films from Slamdance 2026.
1. Zumeca (Dominican Republic)
Zumeca is a true epic. It draws from pre-colonial dramas such as Aguirre, the Wrath of God and Zama, as well as the cross-cultural romances of Dances with Wolves, to create a unique love story.
While it plays with the white-savior trope, it is not a white savior movie. Instead, it confronts the real brutality of the conquistador colonizers as Indigenous culture is dismantled by religion, weapons, and disease.
It’s carefully shot black and white cinematography, with a constantly moving camera reminiscent of Terrence Malick, gives the film the feeling of a modern classic.
2. Tony Odyssey (Brazil)
Two friends rob their workplace to steal a futuristic drug that sends them on a surreal trip through the underworld in a wild range of Holy Motors-esque scenes, all speaking to the trauma of modern capitalism (and Brazil). Tony Odyssey is far from the perfect film. The scenes don’t flow particularly well, but their originality signals a new cinematic voice to look out for from Brazil.
3. Matapanki (Chile)
If you’re a fan of the Blaxploitation movies of the 1970s and 1980s, you’ll find some comfort in Diego Fuentes’ Matapanki. It’s a punk-sploitation movie in which a punk dude discovers that a mine-sweeped cocktail gives him superpowers. This sets him off on a revolutionary quest to take down the Chilean government… and the U.S. president himself. It’s raw, wild fun, and not to be taken seriously.
HONORABLE MENTIONS
It’s also worth your time to check out two of the Jury Prize winners: Whisperings of the Moon (Cambodia) and Silver (Bolivia). Whisperings of the Moon immaculately captures the feeling of falling in love with it’s Past Lives-esque story. Silver portrays the brutal landscape surrounding the Cerro Rico, one of the Spanish Empire’s largest silver mines, which continues to be mined by the Indigenous Bolivians despite the danger.
Top Short Films from Slamdance 2026
There was also a vast range of short films at Slamdance, from your expected animated, live-action, and documentary shorts, to experimental shorts and even video-game experiences! Here are three of our favorites.
1. Lost Wax (Nigeria)
Omorose Osagie’s Lost Wax is one of the most beautiful-looking films of the festival, regardless of format. The shot composition and balance of black-and-white is truly awesome. The story bounces between different perspectives, creating an intriguing narrative that leaves much to the imagination through a mix of live-action and animation. I’m excited to see how Osagie continues to develop her storytelling in future projects.
Screenshot
2. We Used to Take the Long Way Home (Vietnam)
I’m a sucker for road trip movies, so We Used to Take the Long Way Home really struck a chord with me. It follows a high school road trip reunion, reviving old romances in a similar way to Cambodia’s Whisperings of the Moon (mentioned above). The film leans into high school nostalgia, using playful stickers to separate chapters and a goofy comedic character to inject humor. The 2000s are back!
3. La Mayordomia
Did you know that in the outskirts of Mexico City, and across the country, you can sign up to care for a 16th- or 17th- century baby Jesus doll? La Mayordomia introduces you to the world of these dolls; the people who loan them out, the requirements you must meet to be a candidate parent, and the mandatory handing-over ceremonies. It’s an engrossing glimpse into a unique religious tradition!
Honorable Mentions
If you want more, hunt down two magical-realist shorts: Loquita por ti (Spain) and Levantamuertos: Cumbia for the Dead (Mexico). The former is a romance set against the backdrop of bullfighting, while Levantamuertos follows a mortician who can speak with the dead.
For a diverse range of films from filmmakers you’ve never heard of, but might be the next big thing, the Slamdance Film Festival is one you need to attend. We discovered several filmmakers we’re excited to keep an eye on in the future to see how their work evolves.
Los Conductos starts off like Robert Bresson’s A Man Escaped. A Dostoyevsky-esque man of the shadows (like the protagonist of Notes from Underground) peers out of the shadows watching the source of some footsteps nearby. He disappears and a gun appears. Shots are fired. The outcast steps out from the darkness and peers into the fresh bullet hole in his target. As the camera zooms closer to the wound, it cuts to a petrol pump being inserted into the petrol tank of a motorbike (a technique most recently used in Uncut Gems). Our shadow dweller, Pinky, reappears, robs the motorbike and escapes. It’s a minimalist opening that uses editing to generate the action and excitement without explicitly showing any violence.
The minimalist thriller opening doesn’t last as this film switches styles throughout. Here’s a quick list of all the different styles I caught in the film:
Music video: Pinky takes drugs and we get a close up of two Pinky heads bopping madly to very loud music. Reminiscent of the music and drug driven scenes in Trainspotting.
Documentary: The scenes in the print shop are static and slow, showing the workers guiding the printing machines without any narrative. Feels like Sergei Lonitza’s Factory, revealing the everyday workings of the factory.
Storytelling: A well-trimmed copy of Pinky tells his double a story about The Fallen Devil, adding mystery to the film like the storytelling of Andrea Bussmann’s Fausto and Mariano Llinas’ Extraordinary Stories.
Sketch Comedy: There’s even a scene in which Pinky and his double appear as clowns in a go-kart patrolling the streets of Bogota.
The stylistic mashup reminded me a bit of Pedro Manrique Figueroa’s collages, explored in Ospina’s A Paper Tiger, which bring together conflicting images to create political statements. In Los Conductos, the mix of styles construct Colombia as a nation built upon a mix of histories. Without a solid past, the country has no solid foundations to move forward from or even exist upon.
It isn’t helped by our single narrator, who we never feel like we can fully trust. He’s a murderer and junkie, plus he also splits into two characters at one point. Hardly elements that build a trustworthy narrator. He even looks like he’s been living in a cave for a few months, with wild unkempt hair and a long beard. But, whilst we can’t fully trust him, he’s a great candidate for narrator on the state of Colombia. Who best to comment on society, then someone who seems to exist outside of it? He’s experienced a lot and followed a range of cults and philosophies. He shows us Medellin from the street: inside the factories and vacant lots; and from above: through many shots of the city lit up from the hills he lives in.
From his perspective, we see the failures of consumer culture and capitalism in Colombia. The warehouses producing fake t-shirts to sell on the black market that Pinky works in, are ironically the only way Pinky can earn an ‘honest’ living. The mountains of garbage become Pinky’s search for treasure, a physical scar on the land courtesy of the endless waste produced by capitalism. Plus, there’s a distinct lack of care for the average worker. Pinky is forced onto the street by the factory and lives an existence as a forgotten man. This Colombia is cold and heartless.
Camilo Restrepo makes sure you feel it too by embodying a physicality into his film. The 16mm film gives the picture a graininess that you believe you could reach out and feel, whilst the close up of hands constructing, drawing, holding objects pulls you closer to the action, making it feel more tangible, like you’re controlling a character in a first person video game. You’re a part of the puzzle of Colombian society, and you, with the help of Pinky are given an opportunity to try and figure it out.
The Mercy of the Jungle starts with the same scene it ends with. In it, an armed Sergeant Xavier chases a fleeing rebel across an open field. He appears weary of the endless war but mechanically carries out his duty. Book-ending the film with this same chase scene of Sergeant Xavier in a weary pursuit traps him within the conflict. Every scene he appears in as a Sergeant ready for war. He rarely discloses anything about his dreams or personal life. The war in the heart of the jungle covering Rwanda, Uganda, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo has consumed him, just as the soldiers in Francis Ford Copolla’s Apocalypse Now are gradually consumed by their war. Whilst he can switch uniforms and play both sides of the war, the cyclical nature of the film indicates he can never escape the conflict or the jungle it takes place in.
The suffocating jungle provides the first test for a lost Sergeant Xavier and Private Faustin, as they try to find their troop. It’s overgrown, making it hard for them to see beyond a few meters. Even in the clearings the mist prevents them from seeing much further. Plus there’s the hot humidity that slowly saps the precious moisture from Xavier and Faustin as they try to find the way; a death curse as there are no signs of fresh water. The jungle is their inescapable prison.
The sounds of the fauna at night tell Xavier and Faustin that they’re not welcome in the jungle. We never see what makes the noises, which helps to make us more paranoid of what could be out there. It’s not clear if it’s an animal stalking them, or just animals passing by. Whatever it is, the fear of the unknown only further demonstrates their complete loss of control in the jungle and slow descent into madness. The diegetic sounds are supported by a loud, deep, ominous soundtrack that builds the feeling of hopelessness. The jungle is consuming them.
The inescapable, consuming jungle goes hand in hand with the inescapable, consuming war. Just as Sergeant Xavier is stuck in the jungle surrounded by unknown, unwelcoming sounds, he’s stuck in the war surrounded by unknown, unwelcoming armed groups. The war is faceless. The only thing that separates Sergeant Xavier from the different armies and rebel groups he encounters is his uniform. Otherwise, they speak the same language and look the same. So, to avoid death, Xavier and Faustin carry multiple uniforms so they can change clothes to blend into the areas they trespass. They even make friends with soldiers and communities they originally fought against. However, although they can fluidly switch sides, Sergeant Xavier can never escape the war. The one time he tries to disguise himself as a civilian, he’s attacked because it’s obvious from his ‘Muhammad Ali’ physique that he’s a soldier. Whilst he can switch military uniforms, he can never return to being a regular civilian. He’s condemned to a life of war.
The Mercy of the Jungle depicts the inescapable cycle of war around the Virunga National Park in the heart of Africa. The suffocating, disorientating jungle is reminiscent of the jungles depicted in Apocalypse Now and Aguirre, whilst the inescapable war is reminiscent of those depicted in War Witch and Beasts of No Nation. The Mercy of the Jungle stands up to all four of these films as one of the best jungle war films there is.
Tenere documents the incredible real life Mad Max journey of Nigerien people crossing the Sahara on customized trucks in search of an escape from their poverty. It’s an almost unbelievable journey, and although more people try to cross the desert than the Atlantic to get to Europe, it surprisingly rarely makes the news.
Tenere itself is an observational documentary that follows Bachir on his journey from Agadez to Dirkou in search of work. Bachir is one of the most experienced members of the group, having already made the journey across the Sahara a few times in order to provide for his family. This time, instead of going to Libya, which is no longer a land of opportunity because of the raging civil war, Bachir plans to stop and find work in Dirkou, 584km away from Agadez in the northeastern corner of Niger. However, what might be a days journey by car on normal roads is a perilous 5 day trek across the sands of the Sahara in blistering 45 degree heat (that’s over 110 degrees Fahrenheit). In this part of the world, roads don’t exist, just a lot of sand.
Tenere takes off cinematically when the journey leaves Agadez. There’s a point, roughly 10-15 minutes into their journey that the craziness of it hit me. Agadez is the 5th largest city in Niger, albeit a small one when compared to cities around the world with just over 100,000 inhabitants. It doesn’t look like a city teeming with opportunity when we see it on camera. The dust roads, mud houses, and lack of greenery indicate that human life here isn’t sustainable. However, compared to the desert the migrants travel through, Agadez is an oasis of life. After 10-15 minutes of traveling through the desert, the director starts using drone shots to shoot the truck loaded with goats, people, wares, and water, allowing us to see just how perilous the journey is. We can see that their truck is the only sign of life for miles, an island in a landscape that is purely sand and hot air. They’re truck is the desert equivalent of the Senegalese pirogues aimed towards Europe, completely isolated and just a few punctures away from certain death.
You might be wondering: “well, these people were never going to die because the filmmaker and his crew were there just in case something went wrong”. However, you might not know that this film was all shot by one Turkish man, Hasan Söylemez, with just a few cameras and a convoy of hired soldiers to protect them from desert bandits. There’s not much a camera and soldiers can do to help if your car breaks down when you’re two days drive from civilization and surrounded by sand and a 45 degree heat. It’s exactly at the halfway point of their journey that one man emerges inexplicably from the desert. He has just walked 17km to find help because his truck has broken down whilst carrying 20-25 migrants on its back. They’re all stuck by the car with their water supplies running out. If he didn’t find anyone willing to help, this truck load of people would succumb to the desert, like the many other people buried under car tire tombstones. It’s an unforgiving journey, and death always feels precariously close because of a lack of visible support. There are no signs of backup help, because there isn’t any.
Tenere is almost unbelievable. These guys and their custom stacked truck would fit perfectly into an apocalyptic Mad Max film. But the handheld camera and drone shots make it almost feel like we’re there with them, minus the heat and glaring sun. It’s a brilliant observational documentary that exposes another migration route that rarely makes the news. I watched this film whilst I was halfway through reading ‘The Devil’s Highway’, an account of the Yuma 14 who died crossing the Arizona desert, which made this film even more pertinent. If you’re sitting comfortably in your home in Europe or the U.S. thinking that you deserved the luck to be born there, watch this film and see exactly how people are risking their lives to try and reverse their own fortunes.
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