arthouse: the only genre in which you could find the meaning of life inside a potato
Written by Mark Brennan
There is one genre of cinema that divides ‘movie’ lovers and ‘film’ lovers, and that is arthouse. For the uninitiated, arthouse films are those majestic works that dare to ask the big questions: What is the meaning of life? Why is everyone wearing grey? And must every shot last longer than the director’s previous relationship?
These are the cinematic gems that make you feel cultured, confused, and occasionally in need of subtitles — even when the film’s in English. Visual poetry to some, a nonsensical buffet of images and scenes to others, it is a genre that continues to confound and captivate audiences in equal measure.
It would be easy to think the most appreciative audiences for arthouse cinema would be at film festivals - after all, where else will you find such a purist celebration of innovative storytelling? While this is very true of some, it’s not at all true of others who look to curate a more narratively accessible programme for their regular audiences. The trick for filmmakers is identifying one from the other.
One arthouse-friendly festival would certainly be the London Short Film Festival, where Phil Ilson serves as longstanding Artistic Director.
Phil Ilson of London Short Film Festival
“There's no denying that short film programmes at many European film festivals such as Berlinale, Cannes and dedicated shorts festivals such as Hamburg and Winterthur can be a challenge, which can annoy many filmmakers who are making polished well-crafted short films, but I've always found that there are exciting gems in amongst such programmes where many films would feel more suited to a gallery space or fit into the artist film genre. I once had an experience of watching a boat bob up and down on a lake for thirty minutes! But the flipside to this is that there is always going to be exciting and mind-blowing work that you won't see anywhere else.”
“Many film festivals, particularly in Europe, are actively looking for arthouse short films, so if you have something original and visually exciting, or working in a hybrid or experimental way, it shouldn't be too hard to get the work out there. Many of those shorts do translate back to UK festivals, and I would say at LSFF we are constantly looking for new voices in cinema to surprise us.
Abortion Party by Julia Mellen
“An original work that won Best International Short at the 2020 London Short Film Festival was Yung Lean, Please Be My Yung Love by Madrid based US filmmaker Julia Mellen. Julia returns to LSFF in 2026 with a new work, Abortion Party, mixing her lo-fi animation technique with her personal voiceover, and when we received the submission, I was excited to watch it. The uniqueness of her work, while still being entertaining and genuinely funny shows that a filmmaker very much in the artist film world can cross over to make entertaining work.”
Per Fiske, Festival Director at Minimalen Short Film Festival in Norway is also a fan of the medium.
Per Fiske of Minimalen Short Film Festival
“Simply put, I find that the typical Hollywood cineplex film only exploits a tiny fraction of what is possible with film. Within arthouse, and short films in particular, the rest of the toolbox may be used - with films challenging conventions both in narrative and esthetics, trusting the audience to think and feel rather than be told what to feel. To Minimalen, without the arthouse scene, cinema would be only cotton candy and circus acts. Arthouse cinema is the heart of cinematic vitality, experimentation and independent thought.”
“I would say that any wayward arthouse-type short has a much better chance to be selected than the typical attempt at template based filmmaking, i.e. trying to mimic your run of the mill Hollywood production. Watch a wide range of short films until you 'get' the specificities of the format, and target not only the major film festivals. And, not least, stay true to your voice — festivals appreciate authenticity.”
Bye Bye Turtle by Selin Öksüzoğlu
“A lovely example from last year was Bye Bye Turtle by Selin Öksüzoğlu (France), also the principal winner of our International Competition. The film blends a quietly poetic setting and emotionally resonant characters in a tone seemingly whimsical but with substance. It invites the viewer in to take part and co-create and lingers after watching.”
Danny Moltrasi, Senior Shorts Programmer at Raindance Film Festival, keeps an eye out for arthouse gems both for himself and for the festival. What does he love about the arthouse genre?
Danny Moltrasi of Raindance
“This is perhaps both really hard, and really easy to answer. I love cinema, I love sitting in a room in the dark, being alone and being taken away. I also love jumping into the unknown, the fear of having no idea where I am going. I guess lots of (good!) arthouse cinema does that. I have no issue being left confused, perplexed, without answers, as long as I feel like there is meaning behind it even if I don't understand it. This isn't to criticise other more formulaic types of cinema which I still completely enjoy, but just the absolute breadth of types of films you can find in arthouse cinema is limitless.”
“Be bold! I know it's easy to say because money is a concern for everyone, but don't be scared to take risks. I see so many films that feel like they’re paint-by-numbers. You can predict the whole film pretty early on, and I have maybe seen 10 of those already during the day just watching submissions. I'd rather see something that is new to me, but doesn't really hit the mark all the time, than something that is extremely safe. This again plays back to me saying do what is true to you. Don't be scared to do something insane, the chances are you'll find a space for your work.”
“We have an extremely broad range of programmes, that include arthouse, experimental and genre based shorts. It obviously helps that I am part of that team so there is always going to be someone fighting that corner (it is not just me though who would be fighting it!). What we look for is more focused on finding something new and interesting, the style isn't the be all and end all. We often have a selection of shorts in our Abstract Notions strand, which is one of our more experimental strands. We had a beautiful short film last year called Whatever City, a 28-minute long piece that really hit me. It's slow, spacious and meandering in all the best ways. I’d highly recommend hunting that film down.”
Whatever City by Tobias Klemeyer Smith
As for myself, I have very paradoxical feelings about arthouse cinema.
It’s meant to be experienced, it’s meant to be felt, but as much as I like to interpret a film’s meaning, I do also like to feel from the director that there is a meaning to be interpreted. I’ve sat in many festival screenings and watched unapologetically incoherent films, trying to figure out if the protagonist was a ghost, a metaphor, or simply on holiday.
Then again, as someone who runs a film festival and sees so many of the more ‘conventional’ stories play out in the most conventional ways - however well executed they may be - it’s always refreshing to see something come in that demands your attention from minute one.
Programmers always want to see something entirely arresting that we haven’t seen before, even if the meaning behind it isn’t immediately obvious. And just like any other genre of short film, there are festivals ready to embrace it more readily than others.
Me with the meaning of life?
For that reason, there’s always something magical about these films. Beneath the layers of irony and slow zooms can lay genuine artistry — directors who see cinema not as entertainment, but as existential therapy, leaving you slightly dazed, unsure what you’ve just watched, but certain it was important. Arthouse films don’t spoon-feed you a plot; they hand you a fork and tell you to dig for meaning yourself.
So, yes, arthouse cinema may test the patience of some but it also reminds us that film can be gloriously, bewilderingly human. Because deep down, we all want to believe that somewhere in that dimly lit screen, as a slow-boiled potato inexplicably rolls gently into frame, that art — and perhaps understanding of something much bigger than the potato — is about to begin.
