Animal instincts at the Thessaloniki… | Little White Lies

Festivals

Ani­mal instincts at the Thes­sa­loni­ki Inter­na­tion­al Doc­u­men­tary Festival

27 Mar 2025

Words by Hannah Strong

Pangolin sitting in tall grass, its scaled body and distinctive facial features visible.
Pangolin sitting in tall grass, its scaled body and distinctive facial features visible.
One of the most well-regard­ed doc­u­men­tary film fes­ti­vals pro­vides a fas­ci­nat­ing insight into the grip that ani­mal sto­ries have over the doc­u­men­tary space.

If you want peo­ple to watch your doc­u­men­tary, there’s a sure-fire way to intice them: make it about a cute ani­mal. Across lan­guages and bor­ders a love of crea­ture com­forts endures, and even when docs choose to focus on the dark­er side of our rela­tion­ship with nature – à la Wern­er Herzog’s Griz­zly Man – the very promise of hear­ing a sto­ry about a unique rela­tion­ship between man and beast is enough to lure view­ers in. While perus­ing the pro­gramme for this year’s Thes­sa­loni­ki Inter­na­tion­al Doc­u­men­tary Fes­ti­val, this thought occurred to me as I came across the list­ing for Pan­golin: Kulu’s Jour­ney, direct­ed by Pip­pa Ehrlich who won the Oscar for Best Doc­u­men­tary along­side James Reed in 2020 for My Octo­pus Teacher. Giv­en that Greece itself is a haven for cats, I had ani­mals on the mind by the time I arrived in the city for the fes­ti­val. Notic­ing quite a few dif­fer­ent ani­mal-cen­tric docs in the pro­gramme, I thought this might be an inter­est­ing line of enquiry to fol­low for the four days I was in town.

I began with the afore­men­tioned Pan­golin: Kulu’s Jour­ney, which cen­ters – unsur­pris­ing­ly – on a tiny pan­golin who is res­cued dur­ing a sting oper­a­tion to take down an ani­mal traf­fick­er. Pan­golins are con­sid­ered the world’s most traf­ficked ani­mal, account­ing for 20% of the ille­gal wildlife trade, which is par­tic­u­lar­ly heart­break­ing when you see one on screen. They are strange, alien-look­ing mam­mals, cov­ered in scales with long, thin tongues and short arms. Pan­golins are also bipedal, and many inter­net users have remarked how polite they look. The crea­tures are not helped, wildlife vol­un­teer Gareth Thomas explains, by their lack of sur­vival skills beyond being able to defen­sive­ly curl into a ball; they have poor eye­sight and no teeth. As such, when Kulu is res­cued, it falls to Thomas to become his around-the-clock babysit­ter at a South African nature reserve until he’s big enough to be released into the wild.

Any­one who has watched an ani­mal doc­u­men­tary before will be famil­iar with the for­mat of Kulu’s Jour­ney, which brings very lit­tle to the table styl­is­ti­cal­ly but plen­ty in the way of cute footage of a pan­golin bum­bling around the grass­lands and bathing in mud. If the documentary’s aim is to bring aware­ness to the plight of the pan­golin, it absolute­ly suc­ceeds – Kulu is an endear­ing pro­tag­o­nist, and Thomas (a macho city escapee trans­formed into a sen­si­tive zookeep­er by his con­nec­tion with Kulu) a ser­vi­ca­ble human coun­ter­point, but it’s very much in the same vain as My Octo­pus Teacher, and it’s easy to under­stand why some film­mak­ers may find the con­tin­ued over-rep­re­sen­ta­tion of such straight-for­ward sto­ry­telling – with an over­re­liance on cute crea­tures – frustrating.

But the ani­mal action at Thes­sa­loni­ki also took some inter­est­ing turns. Tomáš Elšík’s Pri zemi (Resilience) focus­es on an idyl­lic stretch of the Czech coun­try­side where the wildlife has start­ed to mys­te­ri­ous­ly die. While local gar­den­er Pavel tries to sew seeds to fight ram­pant defor­esta­tion, Klára (who works with the Czech Ornitho­log­i­cal Soci­ety) tries to work out the cause of the bird deaths with help from her dogs. It’s a dif­fer­ent sort of mur­der mys­tery, in which the sweep­ing vis­tas of the Czech land­scape con­trast with the image of trag­i­cal­ly felled wildlife and the seem­ing­ly end­less bat­tle Pavel and Klára are fight­ing against industrialisation.

A black and white cat sitting outdoors, with a blurred snowy garden in the background.

The kid-friend­ly Salto, Pus og den døde fisken (Small Dogs Bark Loud) by Nora Nivedi­ta Tvedt takes a dras­ti­cal­ly dif­fer­ent approach, giv­ing an imag­ined voice to its canine (and feline) char­ac­ters, chiefly Salto, the sweet Mal­tese who is the best friend of 12-year-old Tuni. Still griev­ing fol­low­ing the sui­cide of her old­er broth­er and strug­gling with her mother’s ter­mi­nal can­cer diag­no­sis, Tuni has devel­oped a mag­i­cal bond with Salto, and she puts togeth­er a sum­mer buck­et list for them to accom­plish, with one big task at the end of it: vis­it­ing her broth­er Håkon’s grave. The chirpy V/O for Salto can be a lit­tle grat­ing, but the con­ceit is quite nov­el, par­tic­u­lar­ly for younger audi­ences who might oth­er­wise not be exposed to doc­u­men­tary, and Small Dogs Bark Loud is a sen­si­tive approach to the top­ic of grief that might well help oth­er chil­dren expe­ri­enc­ing sim­i­lar changes. It’s also a tes­ta­ment to the incred­i­ble pow­er of pets with­in our lives, par­tic­u­lar­ly in times of crisis.

Span­ish film­mak­er Emilio Fon­se­ca Martín rejects the tra­di­tion­al trap­pings in Wild, Wild, which explores the exis­tence and absence of Iber­ian wolves in Gali­cia and Por­tu­gal through stun­ning imagery and the incor­po­ra­tion of folk his­to­ry, med­i­tat­ing on what is lost with the relent­less march of time and so-called progress. The wolves’ dis­tant cousins appear in the most con­ven­tion­al but still eerie Pet Farm, in which Finn and Mar­tin Walther spend time with Joakim in rur­al Nor­way, who has been chas­ing his child­hood dream of breed­ing domes­ti­cat­ed fox­es. What starts as a harm­less sto­ry about a quirky ani­mal lover is revealed to be root­ed in lone­li­ness and iso­la­tion, as Joakim reveals just how much his fox­es mean to him while the Nor­we­gian gov­ern­ment seeks to shut him down and cull his animals.

The ten­sions between humans and ani­mals are also on dis­play in Eliza Petkova’s Silent Observers, where six ani­mals in the moun­tain vil­lage of Pirin take cen­tre stage amid the community’s super­sti­tions and domes­tic demands. Mat­sa the cat is accused of pre­vent­ing a dead man’s soul from pass­ing over; Gosho the horse is sick and risks euthana­sia; Mila the dog is accused of mur­der­ing a neighbour’s chick­ens. It’s an engag­ing and humor­ous hybrid doc that encour­ages the audi­ence to con­nect with the ani­mals on screen rather than the humans.

Of course the TIDF pro­gramme had plen­ty of human sto­ries on show – I was par­tic­u­lar­ly impressed by Matyl­da Kawka’s My Sun­ny­side, which cen­ters on Jo and Allie, a trans cou­ple liv­ing in New York who nav­i­gate their rela­tion­ship amid famil­ial ten­sions and the exter­nal pres­sures that come with being queer in present-day Amer­i­ca. It’s a sen­si­tive and sim­ple film that spot­lights a com­mu­ni­ty con­tin­u­al­ly scape­goat­ed both in the Unit­ed States and in the Unit­ed King­dom, care­ful­ly find­ing plen­ty of joy among the dif­fi­cul­ties in Jo and Allie’s lives. Anoth­er sto­ry of Amer­i­cans on the mar­gins, Jean-Bap­tiste Thoret’s Neon Peo­ple, reveals the com­mu­ni­ty of unhoused peo­ple that exist beneath the Las Vegas strip, liv­ing in access tun­nels. It’s a can­did and mat­ter-of-fact film that allows the res­i­dents to speak plain­ly about their expe­ri­ences and the aban­don­ment of them by the state.

Mean­while, the fes­ti­val paid trib­ute to French doc­u­men­tar­i­an Nico­las Philib­ert with a ret­ro­spec­tive that includ­ed screen­ings of On the Ada­ment and At Aver­roès & Rosa Parks, as well as the third and final instal­ment in his tril­o­gy explor­ing alter­na­tive psy­chi­atric treat­ment in Paris, The Type­writer and Oth­er Headaches. In this third film, Philib­ert fol­lows two handy­men employed to assis­tant patients with var­i­ous prob­lems, such as bro­ken type­writ­ers and CD play­ers and clean­ing up a dis­or­gan­ised flat. Philibert’s nat­u­ral­is­tic film­mak­ing and sense for comedic tim­ing are on show once again here; it’s a touch­ing and gen­tle film about the impor­tance of a holis­tic and com­mu­ni­ty-focused approach to men­tal health.

While cute ani­mal pro­tag­o­nists might some­times prove enough to shift tick­ets, it takes a skilled film­mak­er to real­ly make us invest in their art. Thessaloniki’s 2025 pro­gramme was not short of those, packed with gems of both the ani­mal and human vari­ety, with plen­ty of film­mak­ers keen to reach beyond the clichés of genre and find new modes of expression.

The 27th Thes­sa­loni­ki Inter­na­tion­al Doc­u­men­tary Fes­ti­val took place from 6 to 16 March. The Thes­sa­loni­ki Film Fes­ti­val will take place lat­er this year.

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