Jytte Holmqvist

Gearing up to wind down, the 2026 Europa¡ Europa Film Festival, which makes a point of being accessible to audiences from across the board, has officially rolled into its final encore stages – and it’s high time you rushed to your nearest related cinema! The visually and narratively rich cinematic offering celebrates the diversity of European cinema, with “43 films from 22 countries” screened at venues across Australia and New Zealand. Film aficionados in Melbourne who venture down to the historic Classic Cinemas in increasingly multicultural Elsternwick (its ultra-orthodox Jewish community constitutes a thankful counterweight to capitalistic modernity) still have a few breathless days to catch these Final Fantastic Four/s, all from 2025: Damiano Michieletto’s arresting Vivaldi-inspired Primavera, with an innovative female twist and whose heart wrenching symbolic opening sets the tone for things to come, Michał Kwieciński’s captivating Chopin, a Sonata in Paris (presented in the film festival booklet as “[r]eminiscent of Miloš Forman’s Oscar-winning Amadeus, this stunning biopic transports us back in time to the rise of the masterful composer Chopin – an electrifying, hedonistic, artistically fertile Paris in the 1830s” and starring a mesmerizing Eryk Kulm in the lead role), “kaleidoscopic biopic” Franz, as well as Moroccan Maryam Touzani’s Calle Málaga imbued with its own Carmen Maura-fuelled charm and shot on location in Tangier.

This paper gives voice to bold and experimental Italo-Argentinian Antonella Trovarelli. Most recently artist in residence a Abra Espacio contemporary art gallery in San José, Costa Rica, her professional trajectory has taken her from strength to strength. Breaking ground while at work at Museo C.A.V. La Neomudéjar in Madrid, Trovarelli has made an indelible impact creating in her designated studio in the Associations Lab section of former brutalist and cutting-edge regional contemporary art space Zapadores/ Ciudad Del Arte Museo Siglo XXI; a politically activist, visual accompaniment to the Neomudéjar avant-garde art center in the vicinity of the Atocha railway station in an obscure part of Madrid proper. The provocative pieces at transfixing Zapadores contrasted starkly with the notion of art as beauty. Rather, covering an expansive art space that has since ceased to exist, were works that hurled us back to Spain’s dark Francoist past. Images of executed soldiers, and torture victims shocked into silence. Audiences were reminded of the brutality of a regime that haunts Spanish citizens to date. Trovarelli, in turn, engages with identity and migration politics through abstract, primitive and anthropomorphic figures that verge on the grotesque, challenge the viewer and leave room for interpretation. This paper argues that Chaos is needed for a creative spark to fly and draws on Stewart Elliot Guthrie’s anthropomorphic theories pondering what role animal symbolism plays in Trovarelli’s art, if her skeletal figures can escape their liminal space in the existential margins, and what diasporic message is conveyed through her art.

Open-ended, controlled, and graphic, Claire Keegan’s narrative style is powerfully brief and succinct and her mastery with the short story form has garnered global attention. Allowing herself limited space to share her depths and insights, she portrays slivers of lives and pieces of Irish history by getting to the point and introducing us to characters who in an almost chronicle-like fashion represent national stereotypes. Their queries and anxieties are set in narratives within a provincial Irish context expressing local concerns yet possessing wider relevance as universal issues. Their fates bind us across cultural borders and divides, therein lie their wider relevance. This essay inserts Keegan in an existentialist framework and draws on Zygmunt Bauman, Walter Benjamin, and Susan Sontag while focussing on stories where the mundane hides deeper concerns which are expressed less through verbal communication than pauses and silences charged with emotion.

Papa Francesco, Sua Sanctitas – kärlekens vapendragare (1936-2025) Habemus papam. Vi hade påven av alla påvar. Han existerade mirakulöst nog; världens mest självklara och jordnära påve som gick sin egen väg och lyste upp en dunkel omvärld av rämnande moraliska stöttepelare. Konsten att leva som man lär, att våga vara människa i en medlarroll mellan det värdsliga och det andliga, att representera Gud och bli verkligt allsmäktig i sin sårbarhet, att vara stark men ödmjuk, innerlig och trofast men stolt i sin övertygelse, att leda med insikt och värdighet, och att vara allestädes närvarande. Franciskus – redan namnet klargjorde vad han stod för och såg som kärnan i sin roll som ledare för den katolska världen.

The following essay explores the relationship between contrasting cultures and cultural spaces within a rural Australian, Victorian, context, with reference to the narrated cultural landscape in Joan Lindsay’s novel Picnic at Hanging Rock (1967) and in the film based on the novel, by Peter Weir (1975). In the analysis of the five first scenes of the film, the focus will be on the notion of scenic- and human- beauty that is at once arresting and foreboding, and the various contrasting and parallel spaces that characterise the structure of book and film. The article will draw from a number of additional secondary sources, including various cultural readings which offer alternative methodological approaches to the works analysed, and recorded 1970s interviews with the author and the filmmaker.

The current COVID-19 pandemic has underscored the need to “think outside the box”. As societies across the planet gradually become more interconnected, the dominance of outmoded social practices surrounding human interaction, work, leisure and space is being challenged on a daily basis. Mediatic productions such as film have always presented opportunities for expanding the reach of particular messages and disseminating topical views and perspectives. In honour of Federico Fellini (1920-1993) on the 100th anniversary of his birth, this paper undertakes a comprehensive comparison between the bold and absurdist cinema of the Post-Neorealist filmmaker and today’s also strange and perplexing social environment. Contextualising his cinema within an auteurist framework, we highlight how ground-breaking Fellini was in embracing the unconventional; by doing so he provided a practical guide for navigating contemporary reality. With productions that seduce and impress viewers worldwide, Fellini defied established cinematographic practices, as exemplified by his experimentation with overlapping narrative styles. His films bestir a new way of thinking by generating an anomalous world, one where events take place beyond the scope of what the viewer anticipates as “natural”. But the appraisal of what is “natural” is contingent upon the viewer’s belief structure: by presenting a world where events happen outside the realm of practical expectations, Fellini’s timeless cinema questions outdated belief systems and sets the guidelines for how to navigate the unanticipated complexities of the contemporary world. Reality and fiction merge into one.

In these transformative times of interrupted lives, humanity has had to take a step back and subject its frantic, rushed existence to a profound analytical glance. The COVID pandemic has caused millions to suffer and the elderly are more vulnerable than ever; moreover, many families are left to mourn alone, not always able to gather around their departed loved ones at the time of grief. This has led many to believe that humanity has lost control of its environment and its destiny. Yet, if recent predictions by sociologists come true, the current, seemingly never-ending pandemic might have some positive results. The anguish it causes may be, in fact, teaching us to appreciate the value of the natural world that we are depleting, to understand “the other”, and to recognise the planet-saving significance of the phrase “less is more”. And while the world’s populations slowly realise that their social environment has changed permanently, the pandemic’s beneficial upshot might be that people will be mindful of things beyond their immediate concerns and will begin to see the “bigger picture”. In view of the speculative disarray inherent to our present condition, this paper proposes existentialism as a system of thought with the intrinsic power to guide individual and social awareness; it thus analyses our present in an interpretive and pragmatic light while it draws on the existentialist theories of Søren Kierkegaard and Simone de Beauvoir. Both philosophers are querying and inquisitive and both timelessly relevant, sensible and direct about what they see is at the core of human existence.

The focus of this article is Alain Resnais’ representation of collective and individual memory and identity in Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959). The film is based on Marguerite Duras’ script from 1958 and remains faithful to this original text. With partial reference to Giuliana Bruno’s views on imaginary cities and urban cartography, the screened urban space will here be read as an emotive map in which the individual love story between the protagonists unfolds against the backdrop of their almost equally intimate relationship with the historically abused city of Hiroshima. This, in Bruno’s words helps create an affective “map of love” (243) or a “body-city on a tender map” (242). Discourses on memory and forgetting, individual and collective memory will also frame a filmic analysis where Paul Ricoeur is given particular theoretical attention. In a film partly dealing with the traumas of the 1945 atomic bomb and its aftermath, Resnais visually and narratively juxtaposes wartime Hiroshima and the city twelve years after the event: as stated in Duras’ original filmscript, “[t]he time is summer, 1957-August-at Hiroshima” (8). In doing so, he unveils the many layers of historical unease that dwell behind Hiroshima’s currently peaceful condition. The paper highlights the fluid relationship between the protagonists and their environment, as well as the semi-documentary aspects of a film that establishes an effective dialogue between past and present.

We have entered a 21st century where people, rather than uniting across borders and daring to feel an affinity with the other ̶ bridging ethnic and national differences ̶ are now increasingly vulnerable, exposed to fragmenting movements often set in motion by leaders driven by egocentric values and self-interests pursued at the expense of the well-being of minorities and those occupying a lower level in the social hierarchy. While regionalism, nationalism and authoritarianism appear to be rising divisive movements triggered by such destabilising sociopolitical trends, within regionalism we can find examples of positive collaborations. Such is the case with Latin America today; a region which demonstrates a people coming together in a spirit of solidarity and creativity. Regionalism can in this case be inwardly advantageous. In a world characterised by personal disengagement and apathy, Latin America along with its indigenous communities uphold national values in a spirit of mutual comprehension on a communal level. Throughout history, these nations have been subjected to totalitarian regimes and hostile policies that disrupt societal structures. As a result, Latin American communities have developed resilience and a sense of hope deeply embedded in regional values. Its rich and diverse cinema reflects nations that despite all their uncertainties, differences, struggles and discontents have been showing the way forward. Drawing on Zygmunt Bauman, Kwame Anthony Appiah, and Richard A. Falk, this proposal explores Latin American cinema within a regional framework, looking at regionalism as a model for collective cooperation in the midst of a highly volatile world.

Zygmunt Bauman wrote tirelessly on the ever-changing world that we live in, lucidly analysing our contemporary times in an intelligent and insightful manner in both oral and written discourses where the topics ranged from Holocaust reflections, modernity and postmodernity, urban and social liquidity and mobility, and utopia and dystopia, to mention but a few. In his astute observations Bauman paints an often sombre and depressing picture of society and the role we play in it. Writing at length on modernity and postmodernity (the latter dependent on the former for its existence), the Polish sociologist, who was impressively prolific during his lengthy career at the University of Leeds, presents us with a world in flux, one in which citizens likened to hunters lead an increasingly solitary and rootless existence in the name of staunch individualism while, all along, they seemingly push faster and increasingly desperately into an uncertain future. In Bauman’s many accounts, these members, or denizens, of the postmodern habitat lead an ambivalent existence in an apparent utopia that is far from as utopic as one would have hoped for. This article will discuss Bauman’s views on modernity and postmodernity, social fluidity and identity change, ultimately highlighting the importance of his works and the great legacy Zygmunt Bauman has left behind. Key words: Zygmunt Bauman, Fluid, Liquid, Modernity, Postmodernity

From Joan Lindsay and cinematic master Peter Weir to Ted Kotcheff and Warwick Thornton, over past decades authors, screenwriters and filmmakers have produced films that depict the vast Australian landscape—simply referred to as terra nullius during colonial times by settlers literally confronting a continent vastly different from anything they were culturally and geographically accustomed to—as mysterious, impenetrable and ominous. Just like the dark cold of Scandinavia lends itself perfectly to contemporary Nordic Noir, the Australian New Wave or Australian Film Revival of the 1970s and 1980s saw the release of films that encapsulated the eeriness of this largely rugged, arid and windswept continent, which opens up possibilities for anything to happen within those very, limitless, territories. This article analyses Weir’s Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975), Kotcheff’s horror flick par excellence Wake in Fright (1971); "the best and most terrifying film about Australia in existence" and with a TV-series remake in 2017, and Thornton’s more recent portrayal of Aboriginal misery and poverty Samson and Delilah (2009) set against a hostile urban backdrop, from a Foucauldian perspective. In its theoretical framework it also draws primarily on Freud. Heterotopia is used as a term to refer to strange, bewildering spaces that are disturbing and undecipherable—also described as “an unimaginable space, representable only in language, and as a kind of semimythical real site” (as articulated in Knight, 2017, 141). Foucault’s concept is applied in a cinematic context and used in conjunction with Freud’s notion of the uncanny as a feeling of uneasiness; or, as has been explained in his seminal text “The Uncanny” (1919), “that class of the terrifying that leads back to something long known to us, once very familiar.” We argue that these eerie, fear-induced screened narratives represent a nation whose weather-beaten, freedom-loving yet at heart anxiety-ridden people are most definitely a product of their environment.

Drawing on Seamus Heaney and his symbolic reference to a great sea change or tidal wave in epic poem “The Cure at Troy” (1990) – much referred to in these gradually post-pandemic times and indicating that a new chapter is about to begin – and “The City” by Ted Hughes, where a life is read like a poem and in the many depths of the urban space the writer roams “my own darkness”, this paper looks at human resilience in the face of an interrupted COVID reality that has brought a fundamental shift to the way we view the world and our role in society. In our era of a New Normal, the idea that “less is more” is quickly becoming a mantra for our times, a time characterised by a gradual distancing from material hype while we turn to nature for solace and guidance – as importantly advocated by Heaney and Hughes who illuminate our path as we gain a greater understanding of what really matters at the core. We likewise begin to see commonalities between people and cultures, and we open up a space for a greater sense of authenticity. As we are now stepping into the initial stages of 2023, entering a new chapter; have we gained existential insights from the COVID-19 pandemic and will this lead to new beginnings where the written word helps us along the way?

This volume of papers is the long-awaited result of written contributions made by participants attending the conference entitled The Patient – Examining Realities, 5th Global Conference, held at Mansfield College, Oxford University, England, September, 2016. The conference organised by the multi-disciplinary academic forum Interdisciplinary Net attracted scholars and medical practitioners from across the world and became an intense three- day opportunity for fruitful discussion between professionals representing a number of disciplines: health and medical science, applied science such as occupational therapy, counselling practices, more abstract and spiritual healing practices through symbolic intervention – with, e.g., mandalas opening up an emotional and much needed dialogue between doctor and patient and encouraging patients also to engage in their own healing process – film and media studies, literature, etc. This book sheds light on research conducted by some of these conference participants – most of them medical professionals and healthcare providers employed by reputable academic institutions and who take a both scientific and practical interest in the healthcare industry and its practices. The book also includes discourses by academics with a more theoretical interest in health and spirituality and the often complex, even problematic, doctor-patient relationship. Research presented in this volume of conference papers is both steeped in cultural traditions and reflective of new trends in certain countries across the globe. Theories, practices and trends highlighted in the book are ultimately universal in that they concern all of us on a global level. We will all at some stage become patients and are already patients, to a greater or lesser extent, throughout our lives. Given this, it feels vital to engage the reader in a discourse which highlights aspects of medical care that need to be brought to the fore and to the public attention, and to – both as readers and writers – also reflect on feelings and concerns expressed by patients themselves. This will hopefully lead to a greater understanding of what it means to be a patient and to increased levels of sympathy and empathy for what patients are going through. In saying this, the volume equally much highlights the role and significance of medical practitioners in times of increased patient rights and of pressing concerns, demands and expectations placed on the healthcare industry, at least in the Western world.

This paper explores the postmodern elements in Pons’ film Barcelona (un mapa) (2007). Of interest is the screened portrayal of the tolerant relationship between a Catalan husband and wife and the fluid gender notions adhered to by the former; a man who repeatedly engages in gender performativity within the safety of his own home and who by refraining from doing so in a public external space could be considered sexually inhibited as he may feel hindered to express himself in contemporary Spain, conscious of the social stigma that he may attract were he to embrace his dual identity. The paper additionally analyses the representation of Barcelona as a capital that can be mapped and spatially explored, the scenes depicting Barcelona’s eclectic architecture, and the cinematic photo-effect as a method by which Pons connects the pre-democratic past with the global present on screen. Barcelona (un mapa) is based on Lluïsa Cunillé’s 2004 screenplay Barcelona, mapa d’ombres. Translated into English as Barcelona, Map of Shadows, the shadows from the past linger in a visual narrative mainly steeped in the present. The film’s postmodernity is reflected in its collage-like structure, with a cinematic montage challenging a conventionally chronological time pattern. Specifically, the story-line criss-crosses between past and present through regular flashbacks from times gone by and an opening scene featuring black and white footage of the decisive moment when Franco forces entered Barcelona in 1939. The viewer is then swiftly transported into a colour-tinged present. Such a non-linear narrative structure underscores the postmodernity of the film, as does the episodic plot containing lengthy and highly theatrical dialogues between two characters at a time. Rather than on external action, Pons explores the complex relationships between his protagonists and also between these characters and their increasingly postmodern urban habitat.

According to Stanley Kubrick, “[i]f it can be written, or thought, it can be filmed”. This is true for award-winning Irish short story writer Claire Keegan (1968) whose sparse and effective prose has hit the core of audiences struggling to process the lingering impact of national trauma. Keegan confronts it all head-on, highlighting social issues that loom large in evocative narratives where thoughts, situations and scenarios spill over into the space between the words. What is left unsaid says it all. The silence that reigns in a space of ‘NON-sayability’ in Keegan’s stories is anything but opaque. In Small Things Like These she navigates treacherous territories in a dark Christmas tale about the widespread and notorious Magdalene Laundry apparatus that keeps weighing heavily on our collective conscience. How can we remain passive in the face of wrongdoings and how does Keegan unlock the past and urge us to scrutinise history?

According to Zygmunt Bauman, we live in a world of hunting and hunters, where instead of lingering in the present and appreciating it for what it holds, we push into the future at an ever-increasing speed, unable to seize the day and live the moment. When too concerned with maintaining a state of flux we lose sight of the utopia that we may partly be living in – at least in a western world generally spared from firsthand warfare, where citizens enjoy technological advancements and breakthroughs. To paraphrase Bauman’s words written in 2005 but holding true to this day we harbour a continuous dream of a world void of accidents. Restlessly we live through the day while eagerly anticipating the next. In doing so, we not only disregard the importance of the present but also that of the past, seemingly forgetting about it altogether. On a national level, this is a hunter’s “utopia” where citizens are engaged in an individual postmodern hunt into an uncertain future and belonging to a collective would rather hold you back than facilitate the process of moving forward. Bauman questions whether in the name of game-keeping globalisation and a utopia that is ultimately unachievable, we are witnessing an end to what may have been regarded as an ideal time and place. Fast-forward to 2017 and having now embarked on an equally shaky journey into 2018 we face a world in disarray and fragmentation. This paper applies Bauman’s lucid thoughts to an analysis of our unpredictable present.

Inserting the discourse within an existentialist framework, this paper examines our existence of interrupted realities through the lens of Kierkegaardian thoughts and also draws on Simone de Beauvoir’s “Qu’est-ce que l’existentialisme?” (1947). As we navigate a surrealist time of COVID-19 (ab)normal, the lingering pandemic has left an impact on a both societal and psychosocial level. With societies across the globe facing continuous restrictions, what happens to free will? De Beauvoir defines our raison d’être as the individual having reality “only through his engagement in the world”. In this period of limited individual freedom, can we still talk of free will and how shall we engage with this all-pervasive, rule-changing pandemic ‘New Normal’?

This poetic analysis queries what it means to be human and alive at a time of interrupted pandemic realities. We draw a link between Søren Kierkegaard and our contemporary Louise Glück in their focus on an individual battling with fears, who goes their own way defying norms and conventions. How does Kierkegaard in The lily of the field and the bird of the air (1849) metaphorically show us the way to finding inner peace and a sense of solace in that which is supposedly less, and teach us to appreciate the divinity found in nature? What does Glück teach us about resilience in collections of poetry The wild iris (1992) and Averno (2006)? How do the two thematically converge and indirectly advocate for a life of stoic resilience where, with individual freedom as our end goal, we learn to endure anguish and pain – embracing suffering as a way forward?