Prizes

For the meticulous and visionary work with archival materials, recovered images, fragments of sound and documents wrested from oblivion with the patience of those who understand that the memory of colonialism is not buried history, but a constellation of traces through which the present can be read and a different future imagined.Historical research and editing become acts of visual inquiry, weaving together temporalities, voices, and memories to create an intimate yet profoundly political portrait of Amílcar Cabral, one of the central figures of twentieth century anticolonial struggles.

This film demonstrates something essential about filmmaking: the passion to tell a story matters.From footage captured by bystanders to its rhythmic editing, from the inventive use of its performers to the coherence carved from a mosaic of voices, this film displays a maturity that belies its status as a second feature film. It is the biography, but not of a person, but of an entire neighbourhood; not a single story, but many woven into one, breathing, insistently alive.A film that matters deeply to all who took part in it. We believe it will matter just as much to all who see it. And against all odds, it offers something all too rare: hope.

What happens when the generational transmission of trauma meets the longing to belong – to a family and to a land you have never known, yet both continue to pull you back? In this film, themes of loss and yearning resonate most deeply, best revealed through awkward silences and moments left unspoken. As the filmmaker searches for her identity, despite the unjust fate she was forced to live with, what stayed with us most powerfully was her ability to leave behind the burden of blame and shame. The filmmakers’ journey becomes not only a search for belonging, but also an act of liberation.

We have decided to award a film that uses cinema as a powerful tool to remember, celebrate, and find comfort. A film that is, above all, an act of love.

An intimate and delicate exploration.A precise, rigorous, and bold visual language. A personal aesthetic characterized by an apparent and refined visual stillness, even as stories, thoughts, and gazes are actually in motion within those frames. A film that finds in its very form the strength of its expression—necessary, personal, and deeply felt.

Spirit Animal, directed by Yuri Pirondi and Inês von Bonhorst, is a film that, while set in a context seemingly far away from the pressing concerns of the modern world, addresses some of the most critical issues of our time: the ecological and climate crisis, globalization, and the transformation of pastoral economies. However, it does so through a deeply human perspective, following nomadic communities that face change without sacrificing the continuity of their practices and identities.From an anthropological perspective, the documentary avoids the dichotomy between tradition and modernity. The families at the center of the film are not portrayed as guardians of a static past, but as individuals who negotiate their relationship with change on a daily basis, within a continuum where ancestral and contemporary life coexist, albeit tinged with a subtle nostalgia.The film’s significance extends beyond the climate issue to address themes such as intergenerational relationships, the redefinition of family roles, mobility, and the transformation of cultural identities. Environmental and social changes are portrayed through people’s actual experiences, becoming an integral part of their life stories.This reflection is enhanced by stunning cinematography, accompanied by the sounds of nature and silences that capture the rhythm of the landscape and daily life. In this context, the yurt takes on a powerful symbolic dimension: not merely a dwelling, but a veritable cosmos in motion, a space that holds memory, relationships, and identity, and that continues to move alongside those who inhabit it. An image that effectively encapsulates the film’s essence: the possibility of navigating change without losing one’s center.

A collective film, created with the help of the very community it portrays, whose strength lies in highlighting the importance of every single action. Its greatness lies in its portrayal of civil resistance, reminding us that abuse and injustice are closer than we think, and urging us toward civic engagement and political mobilization—now more relevant and necessary than ever. The creativity and craftsmanship that hold it all together make the film incredibly captivating.

We chose to award Meant to Be because, in the story of a young Hungarian rapper who rose to fame at just seventeen, we found themes that are part of our own lives: relationships with family, the search for one’s identity, loneliness, the desire to be heard, responsibilities, the expectations of others, and uncertainties about the future. Even though he lives in Hungary, the protagonist felt very close to us. In his words, his fears, and his questions, we also recognized something of ourselves and of the reality we live here in Italy.His music becomes a space to express oneself and try to understand who one truly is, beyond labels and judgments. It is a quest that we feel is our own: that of finding one’s place in the world and understanding the boundary between who we are and what others expect of us.For its ability to give voice to a generation and to build a bridge between different yet profoundly human experiences, we award the prize to Meant to Be.

For the concreteness and elegance with which the narrative weaves a multifaceted portrait of the condition of dwelling, intertwining stories that, without rhetoric, depict a world redefining its own balance and a twisting that, in its peculiarity, challenges us all.

For the ability to transform documentary material into a fluid and engaging narrative, and for the sensitivity with which it weaves together personal memory and collective history without rhetoric or judgment. Through the voices of the four sisters—natural, never forced narrators—and a skillful, thoughtful use of period photographs and footage, the film constructs an intimate exploration of memory, composed of contrasts and perspectives that intertwine and illuminate one another. What emerges is a snapshot of an Italy in transformation that, starting from the family sphere, depicts the tension between authority and the possibility of self-determination, revealing the consequences of a patriarchal system while simultaneously charting new paths, allowing a rare and deeply moving complexity to surface.

For the ability to craft an immersive narrative that weaves together different forms of expression, blending documentary and fictional styles through a complex yet effective mise-en-scène. What emerges is a conception of cinema as an act of remembrance, even when the memory itself is in danger of vanishing. The film intelligently employs various cinematic techniques, shaping a reflection on memory as a space for construction and reinvention, where memory becomes both story and narrative device. The true heart of the work, however, is Sandro himself, who, through his own stories, offers a version of himself destined to continue existing for us, but also for him, every time he returns to watch it for yet another first time, beyond the boundaries of his own memory.

It’s not easy to tell the story of an illness. Giacomo Boeri tells his father’s story with a unique delicacy and tenderness, without dwelling on the pain that is already conveyed through the images and words. An intimate glimpse into a fragile situation, allowing even those with family members in similar conditions to process what is shown. The dynamic choice to create visual stories for his father, using different techniques, enriches the narrative. The pacing is excellent, keeping the viewer engaged every second, without leaving gaps that are too long, yet allowing enough time for reflection. We find this film balanced and thoughtful.During the scene of the accident, the silence is described as “thick and unreal”: that same silence we deaf people experience every day. The same silence of awe one feels in the presence of art, in the presence of something that touches us deeply. The film reminded us of what turns cinema into Cinema with a capital C: the ability to represent human life.

The scene where Sandro has his sessions with the doctor reminded us of when we, as deaf people, undergo speech therapy. We also appreciated the exchange of messages between Sandro’s children, presented in voiceover, which allowed for a full range of expression—something that technology and social media have otherwise taken away. We also really appreciated the use of colored lights, as opposed to the usual practice of using dimmed lights to depict an illness. We noticed the moment when his wife says that discovering her husband was deaf drew her to him—it gave us hope. Finally, the line “even though he’s lost his memory, he’s still Dad” underscores that it’s not so much our abilities that define who we are, but the choices we make.This is not merely a story about elderly people with Alzheimer’s, but a story that contains many stories within it, reminding us of this great connection—which we often forget—called humanity.

Little Sinner proves to be a valuable tool for reflecting on that balance which can only be achieved when we forgive others and ourselves. It is a film that requires courage, especially for young viewers who will have to grapple with a variety of themes, such as the demystification of the idea of perfection and the experience of failure.The protagonist’s existential odyssey becomes a moment of intimate reflection and shows that happiness—or personal peace—cannot exist without collective sharing, transforming suffering into an opportunity for growth and self-awareness.