International Competition Award: FUCK THE POLIS by Rita Azevedo Gomes

Georges de Beauregard International Award: FRÍO METAL by Clemente Castor

Special mention of the International Competition Jury: COBRE by Nicolás Pereda

French Competition Award: BONNE JOURNÉE by Pauline Bastard

Georges de Beauregard National Award: HORS-CHAMP, LES OMBRES by Anna Dubosc, Gustavo de Mattos Jahn

Cnap (National Centre for Visual Arts) Award: DES MILLÉNAIRES D’ABSENCE by Philippe Rouy

Special mention of the Cnap (National Centre for Visual Arts) Jury: L’AMOUR SUR LE CHEMIN DES RONCETTES by Sophie Roger

First Film Award: FANTAISIE by Isabel Pagliai

Special mention of the First Film Competition Jury: LOS CRUCES by Julián Galay

Special mention of the First Film Competition Jury: SI NOUS HABITONS UN ÉCLAIR by Louise Chevillotte

Claudia Cardinale Foundation Award: FERNLICHT by Johanna Schorn Kalinsky

Cine+ Distribution support Award in partnership with GNCR: MORTE E VIDA MADALENA by Guto Parente

Flash Competition Award: گل‌های شب ِدریا by Maryam Tafakory

Special mention of the Flash Competition Jury: A PRELUDE by Wendelien van Oldenborgh

Special mention of the Flash Competition Jury: CONTROL ANATOMY by Mahmoud Alhaj

Special mention of the Flash Competition Jury: LENGUA MUERTA by José Jiménez

Alice Guy Award: ABORTION PARTY by Julia Mellen

Renaud Victor Award: BULAKNA by Leonor Noivo

Special mention of the Renaud Victor Jury: SI NOUS HABITONS UN ÉCLAIR by Louise Chevillotte

High School Award: NEXT LIFE by Tenzin Phuntsog

Special mention of the High School Jury: MIRACULOUS ACCIDENT by Assaf Gruber

The Second Chance School Award: NEXT LIFE by Tenzin Phuntsog

Special mention of the Second Chance School Jury: JACOB’S HOUSE by Lucas Kane

Audience Award: LA JUVENTUD ES UNA ISLA by Louise Ernandez

International Competition Award: FUCK THE POLIS by Rita Azevedo Gomes

Georges de Beauregard International Award: FRÍO METAL by Clemente Castor

Special mention of the International Competition Jury: COBRE by Nicolás Pereda

French Competition Award: BONNE JOURNÉE by Pauline Bastard

Georges de Beauregard National Award: HORS-CHAMP, LES OMBRES by Anna Dubosc, Gustavo de Mattos Jahn

Cnap (National Centre for Visual Arts) Award: DES MILLÉNAIRES D’ABSENCE by Philippe Rouy

Special mention of the Cnap (National Centre for Visual Arts) Jury: L’AMOUR SUR LE CHEMIN DES RONCETTES by Sophie Roger

First Film Award: FANTAISIE by Isabel Pagliai

Special mention of the First Film Competition Jury: LOS CRUCES by Julián Galay

Special mention of the First Film Competition Jury: SI NOUS HABITONS UN ÉCLAIR by Louise Chevillotte

Claudia Cardinale Foundation Award: FERNLICHT by Johanna Schorn Kalinsky

Cine+ Distribution support Award in partnership with GNCR: MORTE E VIDA MADALENA by Guto Parente

Flash Competition Award: گل‌های شب ِدریا by Maryam Tafakory

Special mention of the Flash Competition Jury: A PRELUDE by Wendelien van Oldenborgh

Special mention of the Flash Competition Jury: CONTROL ANATOMY by Mahmoud Alhaj

Special mention of the Flash Competition Jury: LENGUA MUERTA by José Jiménez

Alice Guy Award: ABORTION PARTY by Julia Mellen

Renaud Victor Award: BULAKNA by Leonor Noivo

Special mention of the Renaud Victor Jury: SI NOUS HABITONS UN ÉCLAIR by Louise Chevillotte

High School Award: NEXT LIFE by Tenzin Phuntsog

Special mention of the High School Jury: MIRACULOUS ACCIDENT by Assaf Gruber

The Second Chance School Award: NEXT LIFE by Tenzin Phuntsog

Special mention of the Second Chance School Jury: JACOB’S HOUSE by Lucas Kane

Audience Award: LA JUVENTUD ES UNA ISLA by Louise Ernandez

Vetre, pričaj sa mnom, Wind, Talk to Me

Stefan Djordjević

Serbia, Slovenia, Croatia, 2025, Color, 100’

French Premiere

Perhaps the finest self-portrait includes those around us, first and foremost. And especially those who love us the most. Wind, talk to me is a delicate (self-)portrait of a family marked by the early death of the director’s mother, with whom he had begun to shoot a film. Her sudden death forces him to leave the film unfinished. He then moves into the family home, and includes the rest of the family in a film essay that seeks above all the embrace of loved ones, of time slipping away and of the surrounding nature. Very gently, the film incorporates all the characters into the cinematic network—the grandmother, the nephews, the brother, a neighbor—and, as the days go by, the evenings stretch a little longer and summer visibly settles in, a little dog hit by a car becomes part of the family circle, thanks to healing hands dressing her wounds with honey. This is all Wind, Talk to Me needs for the miracle to occur and to compose a (self-)portrait captured by other people, opening up for the viewer the delicate balance between mourning, memory and reconstruction. And it does so unadorned, in the sound of the wind, the leaves in the trees, the afternoons spent at the river, the familiar and intimate stage play in front of the camera, to remind us of those who have left. Because, as the film says, it is the wind that grants our wishes, if we believe in it.

Gonzalo de Pedro

Interview

Stefan Djordjević

Wind, Talk To Me grew out of a photographic and film project dedicated to your mother, which also led to the exhibition “A Diary of Mom” created together with your brother Bosko. Could you tell us about the original idea behind this project?

At the beginning, there wasn’t any idea of a project; it was simply about spending as much time as we could with our mother, and trying to keep her with us forever through the photographs we took of her. Everything our mother did in her life, she did with a huge amount of love. When the cancer returned for the second time, she knew she would need all that love to help her stay alive. She moved to a camp house near the lake in her hometown, trying to reconnect with nature and heal herself through alternative methods. It was there that she began listening to nature and whispering back.

Later, after she passed away, I couldn’t let her go. I began thinking about how I could bring her back, so we could once again share the experience of appreciating life the way she did.

At that point, you chose to involve your family to complete the project. What guided you in translating your personal experience into cinematic language, achieving such a carefully crafted and rigorous form?

While photographing my mother, I also filmed her for a week. Those intimate moments have stayed with me for a long time, they still do. As I reflected on them, I realized how unique my mother was, and that if I were to make a film about her, she herself had to be in it. With that thought, I knew that if I used material featuring my mother, involving actors wouldn’t make sense, the authenticity of those moments simply couldn’t be replicated. Since I appeared in some of the footage and my voice was part of the conversations with her, it became clear that if my mother was included in the film, the rest of my family needed to be as well. This was a tricky decision. Although my brother and I had taken many photographs of our family, and they were used to being in front of the camera, we weren’t sure how they would respond to being filmed.

During the time of grief, I engaged with my family, listening to their stories, dreams, memories, and even their everyday conversations, while observing and photographing them along the way. I also started recording the sound of our conversations. As I reviewed all this material, I searched for connections, linking the documentary footage with old memories, dreams, and the thoughts and emotions my family shared about my mother. At the same time, I was considering who they were as characters. In film, you can’t capture an entire human story; you are always selecting a fragment of someone’s life to portray. I carefully considered which parts of their lives felt the most compelling, not necessarily the most significant, but the moments that stood out to me during that period.

How did the writing process unfold within this context?

To begin, I reviewed the material with my mother, focusing on the most impactful scenes and writing them down to create a sense of structure and direction for the film, this became my first step. The second step involved working through all the sound recordings I had with my family and trying to find connections. I listened intently, transcribed the recordings, and reflected on the most significant moments. For example, my grandfather had shared 10–15 stories, and I focused on selecting those that resonated most with my mother’s scenes.

Early on, I made an important decision: I didn’t want the film to be about the past and present. My mother’s way of speaking about life and her connection with nature was deeply poetic, and I wanted to capture that poetry in the film. Yes, I constructed a structure for the film, but it wasn’t fiction, it was a carefully crafted narrative rooted in genuine memories collected from my family. My goal was to create a sense of timelessness, allowing the audience to experience the story without perceiving it as divided into “past” and “present”. I wanted them to feel, as we do, that my mother is still present, her spirit living through us and within us.

Can you tell us about the working method used on set with your family members? How much room was there for improvisation during filming?

Although my family knew what would happen in the film, I didn’t want them to read the script or perform it exactly as it was written, even if it was based on their own words. Delivering lines word for word wouldn’t have felt natural, so I chose to reconstruct the scenes, drawing inspiration from real moments to recreate them on screen. When working with the family, I had to guide them carefully, providing direction to one person while ensuring others could respond naturally. It was a delicate balance between staying open to what was happening in front of the camera and maintaining control to keep the scenes cohesive. Since none of us were professional actors, it was essential that we genuinely ‘felt’ the scenes as they unfolded. I needed to believe that what we were capturing on camera reflected our everyday life, with my family being their authentic selves, while still preserving the emotional connections I had envisioned. I had to balance the structure of the written material with the natural flow of the scenes, ensuring that everything felt real while staying connected to the overarching narrative. There was space for improvisation, but I knew that relying on it too much would make it harder to create strong connections in the editing process.

The dog Lija holds a layered symbolic and narrative role. How did you come to include her presence in the story, and what significance does she embody for you?

Lija came into my life a couple of months after everything that happened with my mom, and she immediately became a part of the family. At that time, I needed someone to take care of, and, in a way, I also needed someone to take care of me. The last months of my mom’s life had been incredibly intense. That’s why it’s hard for me to put into words what Lija represents, as she is many things. Just like my mom was.

In the film, nature is not just a simple landscape but a living, central presence deeply connected to your mother’s philosophy of life. What principles guided you in representing it?

The motif of nature reflects my mother’s philosophy of life, a metaphor for her way of communicating with the world, as if she were speaking to the wind. Throughout the process of spending time with her and making this film, I found myself reflecting more deeply on life’s big questions. It wasn’t just the conversations we had or witnessing her battle with illness, but also the way she viewed and cared for life that stayed with me. That perspective gave me the strength to embrace and love life more fully. That’s why the idea of “talking to the wind” feels so meaningful, it’s a beautiful way of seeing the world.

Interview by Marco Cipollini