WATCH THE WORLD

Our goal is to open up the world to everyone through film. Everyone should travel if they can (the world is amazing), but it costs time and money which we don't always have. That's where FilmRoot comes in. We bring the world of films to your couch, so you can travel wherever you want to without the flight fees.


Use our World Map to find the best films from each country, choose a continent below to explore the best films from each continent, or simply scroll down to see our latest posts featuring films from around the world. Or, if you're up for a challenge, work your way up to the top of our Film Difficulty Rankings to become a World Film expert.







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Nasir – AFI Fest 2020

Nasir

This film portrays a day in the life of Nasir, a Muslim tailor in Tamil-Nadu, one of India’s Southern states. It doesn’t shy away from the mundane, as it takes time to show Nasir go about his everyday tasks. We see him wash, eat, sleep, chat, and work. The aim is to portray Nasir as an ordinary Indian man. Just like everyone else, he’s burdened by life’s necessities.

The only thing that might stand out about him is that he’s a bit of a poet. He makes up poetry in his head and recites it to his colleagues and is shot walking around with his inner thoughts voiced over in the narrative. There’s also a few long takes of Nasir’s face in close up as he’s resting by an aquarium. These long takes force us to notice him thinking or day dreaming, to add a thoughtfulness to his character. It further adds to the construction of Nasir as an ordinary nice guy, humbly living his life.

The director sets up Nasir’s humble life to contrast with the threatening rise of Hindu nationalism in the background. It’s first heard on the market loudspeakers when Nasir walks his wife to the bus station. Then we hear his boss talking about the upcoming Hindu festival and how they need to get rid of the Muslims. It’s clear the Islamophobic sentiment is getting stronger and becoming more outspoken. Nasir seems to be oblivious of this, partly because the director protects him from it with a much narrower aspect ratio than your standard widescreen. It keeps him and his humble life as the focus and keeps the threatening presence of Hindu nationalism out of the screen.

Nasir is a humble look at one person trying to live a humble life amidst rising nationalism.


Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.

She Paradise – AFI Fest 2020

She Paradise

Right from the beginning, you can tell that 17 year old Sparkle is lonely. Much like Amy, the lead in Maimouna Doucore’s Cuties, she’s stuck doing house chores for her grandparents. It doesn’t look like she has any friends at school or at work, and she doesn’t talk much. So when she meets a group of older girls dancing in the street, she finds the confidence and expressiveness in them that she wants to have. So she works her way into their clique and transforms from the children’s clothes wearing, shy 17 year old kid from the introduction into a vividly dressed, confident dancer.

Her gateway is Trini culture. In particular Soca music: a mix of calypso, reggae, dancehall unique to Trinidad which permeates She Paradise. Soca is present in the dancing and style, which combines with the music to give Sparkle a brand new modern key to her independence. Embracing the contemporary Trini culture through Soca opens up a new world that is totally unique to her world at home with her grandfather. It’s modern and fresh, instead of from the past. It allows her to forget about her childhood and home poverty, and have an opportunity to become a free independent woman.

She Paradise is a feature length version of the brilliant short film that debuted last year at a few festivals that we reviewed here. Like the short, the feature version has many of the same scenes, which are mostly included in the first part of the film. The feature also contains a few hints at Sparkle’s background, but it’s still not clear what she does before she meets the Soca crew. However, unlike the short, this feature film adds in a few male characters which take the focus away from the female friendship of the short. Instead, the focus switches more to Sparkle and how she navigates a world of patriarchy – represented by her father and Skinny, the male Soca artist. It’s a shame as the friendship between Sparkle and Mica was the highlight of the short.


Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.

Luxor – AFI Fest 2020

Luxor

Hanna starts Luxor looking like the typical ‘gone abroad to find yourself’ young white adult. She’s dressed in loose clothing, feels an other worldly connection to the foreign place, and sleeps around. However, whilst her character never completely loses this image in the film, our interpretation of her changes.

Instead of opening up, she becomes more closed emotionally as the film progresses. It doesn’t feel like we learn more about her. Scene by scene, her face becomes a canvas of lonely stoicism, even after she meets her former lover, Sultan. The only moment she breaks this facade in the first part of the film is when she automatically switches into ‘work-mode’ to help a tourist that faints. Otherwise she’s made a shell around her personality to defend herself against hardships.

Luxor could have slipped into the trap of exoticizing a foreign location from the perspective of an outsider. Whilst it does turn Ancient Egypt into a place for a white person to contemplate (side note: shout out to the British Museum), it feels self aware of what it’s doing. Hanna finds connections on her own organically, and other connections to the land through the eyes of a local Sultan. It also recognizes that tourists do visit Luxor to exoticize ‘the other’ by representing them in the spiritual group of westerners that followed the Grateful Dead, and the obnoxious American tourist from the opening. Again it just about avoids the trap of falling into the problematic ‘white girl finds herself in exotic location’.

Instead it uses the environment, and Hanna’s connection to it, to evoke nostalgia for Hanna’s past life with Sultan. We learn that this isn’t the first time she’s been to Luxor (having been here with Sultan earlier in life). Now she’s older, she has experienced trauma (that is only hinted at in the film), and her mind is in a different place. She’s seeing the same locations, but in a different light. Everything feels familiar, shown in her confident exploration of the place on her own, but it also feels different, as shown in her inquisitive interaction with the ruins. Her new connection to the place suggests that her return may be fated, and that she may have found her home and future.


Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.

Tragic Jungle (Selva trĂ¡gica) – AFI Fest 2020

Tragic Jungle

Full disclosure: I’m a sucker for jungle movies like this. Films where the jungle slowly ebbs away at the ego of each character until it merges with the forest and they disappear. Embrace of the Serpent, Apocalypse Now, and The Mercy of the Jungle are three great examples of this. In each of these films, the jungle is expansive and labyrinthine. As every part of it looks the same, it’s easy to see how you can begin to lose track of place and time – did I pass this tree 15 minutes ago, this rock looks familiar, etc. And once you’ve lost your place in time, the jungle starts to consume you, slowly dissolving your ego away.

Tragic Jungle stands out from the bunch in bringing the jungle to life. It uses the sounds of the Howler Monkey and Jaguar to turn it into a threatening physical entity. Their constant roars and grumbles occupying the sonic space are unnerving. The unease is further emphasized by the videos of the two animals mixed in with the main narrative. It makes it feel like the animals are just around the corner, waiting for the inevitable demise of the human protagonists. This is their home, and the Director, Yulene Olaizola, makes that clear.

The only character that seems comfortable in the jungle is the anonymous runaway, a young black Belizean woman chased across the River Hondo into Mexico by her hunters. It’s not clear if she’s escaped the gun of her hunter or not. But once she appears to a group of Mexican rubber harvesters out of the forest, she assumes her role as the Ixtabay woman, a legendary Mayan demon that appears from the forest to lure men to their deaths with her beauty. From this point, she’s completely silent among her new captors. However, her stoical face and slight smile to all the men that approach her, make it appear that she’s always in control.

Her character is exoticized by the Mexican rubber harvesters because of her race. Unlike them, who are a mix of Mexican mestizo and Mexican indigenous heritages, she is a black creole Belizean woman. She’s as unfamiliar to them as the jungle they’re working in, so it’s not surprising that they link her appearance to the supernatural.

Her exoticization also reflects the erasure of Afro-Mexicans from contemporary and historical Mexico. In using a Black creole woman from Belize as the Ixtabay woman, Tragic Jungle further ‘others’ the Black creole women of Mexico. It portrays Blackness as something exotic and unfamiliar to the Mexican characters of both indigenous and mixed Spanish and indigenous backgrounds, which enforces the foreignness of Blackness in Mexico despite it’s own Afro-Mexican community and links to African slavery. Because the Black characters are not Mexican, because they are exoticized and made to feel foreign, and because of the context of historical and present erasure of Afro-Mexicans in Mexico that is slowly gaining recognition, Tragic Jungle contributes to the systematic erasure of Blackness in Mexico.


Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.

Notturno – AFI Fest 2020

Notturno

Notturno is a beautifully shot documentary. It’s clear that each shot has been carefully set up and framed. For example, the shots of the first protagonist of the documentary, a man traveling to his hidden canoe to go hunting, are incredibly well lit in low light. He paddles out into the darkness with the reds of the night sky burning in the background. And that’s right after the shots of him on his motorbike riding to the lake, with oil rigs spurting flames behind him. This film is full of incredible images of the borderlands between Syria, Iraq, Kurdistan, and Lebanon.

However, because it’s so well shot, the documentary kind of feels a bit staged. Everything shot feels like it has been planned. It feels like the director, Gianfranco Rosi, has asked the people he’s shooting to wait for him to set up the camera before they move around, as his camera captures them so perfectly from a distance. He seems to know where they’re going. So even if it’s not that obvious, you can feel the faint presence of the director slightly disrupting their lives which makes Notturno feel less natural.

Because you can feel the director’s gaze, Notturno also feels a bit exploitative at times. The shots of poverty and buildings in ruin are what western eyes expect to see from the war torn Middle East. These images are complemented by a few displays of trauma from mothers who’ve lost their children and children who have lost their mothers. They’re opportunities to tug on the heartstrings of western audiences and emphasize the tragic cycle of war the region is stuck in. But these images don’t always feel organic. The scene with the children running through their memories feels more like the rehearsals for a local stage show that appear in the movie. Both are designed and practiced to illicit an emotional response.

That being said, the film does offer something western audiences might not expect to see: the empty silence of the borderlands. Instead of ISIS and armies, the majority of the shots feature vast open spaces explored by a few local hunters. Soldiers watch the landscape, but nothing happens. There are of course the signs of war, but no evidence of it existing in the present. As a result, it feels a bit like the photographer’s quest to shoot the Franco-Mexican War in Towards the Battle and Robert Fisk’s search for the Middle Eastern front lines in This is Not A Movie. Rosi has arrived in a war torn region to perhaps shoot the war, but the war has disappeared. Instead he finds an empty land waking up to be interpreted by his own gaze.


Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.