Diagonale Film Festival tackles funding gaps and geopolitical barriers in 2025
Diagonale Film Festival tackles funding gaps and geopolitical barriers in 2025
Diagonale Film Festival tackles funding gaps and geopolitical barriers in 2025
"One of the great challenges of our time is, of course, how to capture attention without immediately reaching for the megaphone," declared the festival's two directors as they opened this year's film festival with a politically astute statement. They drew on the work of American writer George Saunders, who, in his 2007 essay "The Braindead Megaphone"—rendered in German, they noted, as "Das Megafon der Vollidioten" (an ungainly but not inaccurate translation)—describes how volume and shamelessness can dominate discourse. A not-particularly-bright party guest with a megaphone, Saunders writes, can throw an otherwise balanced gathering into disarray. Over time, even the reasonable guests find themselves talking only about him. At first, they try to uphold the rules of decency—they object, correct, react, explain, grow frustrated. But the problem, the directors argued, isn't just the megaphone itself; it's how we engage with it. Because whoever holds the megaphone has a structural advantage—even when they have nothing but nonsense to say.
Indirectly Affected by the War in Iran
"We're certain you've already noticed some parallels to our present day—feel free to fill in the names of politicians as you see fit," the festival leaders remarked, pointing to the world's multiple crises. Take the war in Iran, where the core issue—the liberation of a country from a dictatorship willing to stop at nothing—is increasingly being pushed to the margins. "The Diagonale is also indirectly affected: our jury member Faraz Fesharaki is currently unable to leave Iran, as is Massoud Bakhshi (All My Sisters), whose film is in competition. Our thoughts are with them, and we sincerely hope they are both safe."
So what can a festival offer in response? A space where attention isn't dictated by volume, where thoughtfulness isn't forced into instant reaction. Here, it isn't the megaphone that decides—it's the images. A festival isn't an arena for likes; it's an open place for encounter, debate, criticism—yes, even bewilderment. But a productive kind of bewilderment, one that should spark curiosity, raise questions, and create a hunger for friction, the directors argued. "A festival is a space that—let's be honest, in an era of shrinking cultural budgets and outrage dynamics like those we saw at the Berlinale—is no longer something we can take for granted. Film culture thrives on diversity. Cutting its funding ultimately means cutting diversity itself."
Austrian Public Broadcasting Fees "Must Not Be Simply Abolished"
Alternative funding models must be developed, they insisted, and streaming platforms should be more closely tied to financing national film cultures. It's not just about creation; it's about the places where films can be seen at all—cinemas, film festivals. "As an essential supplement to Styria's future cultural diversity, we must add: public broadcasting fees that flow into cultural budgets must not be simply abolished," the duo stated, directing a clear demand to the federal and regional politicians in the audience. Because, as they put it, "For the duration of a film, we're allowed to do something that has become remarkably rare in daily life: we can set aside our own opinions and surrender to the imagination of others."
Running through Monday (March 23), the Diagonale will screen 149 productions across multiple sections, along with several special events. A festival, after all, isn't just a program—it's also a gathering of bodies. And bodies, they noted, are already at the heart of the matter: controlled, exploited not only by patriarchal structures but by capitalist logics as well. Yet, as theorist Silvia Federici argues, a body is not just an object of control—it is also a site of resistance. This led them to the opening film: the body of the protagonist (Sandra Hüller) in Markus Schleinzer's Rose is one of profound ambiguities. Rose is the story of a woman who allows herself the freedom to become someone else. Truth and performance, protection and self-assertion, deception and emancipation stand side by side here without immediately resolving into easy answers.
"To Let Ourselves Be Provoked and Moved"
"Acting as if you were already free"—this is how anthropologist David Graeber described a revolutionary gesture, the duo noted. Not as victims of circumstance, but as an attempt to subvert those circumstances in small, everyday ways. In any case, they expressed their wish for "a Diagonale 26 full of discoveries—on screen and beyond, in the details you notice when you look closely, in the sounds and images that unsettle you and move you," as Slanar and Kamalzadeh put it.
Before the Grand Diagonale Acting Award, designed by Anita Leisz, was presented, the film festival made a statement in support of preserving the ORF regional culture levy, projecting a message on screen: "Cultural Land Styria. Don't break our green heart." Director Alexandra Makarová then delivered "an ode to the incomparable Hilde Dalik," a woman who never seeks the spotlight but instead "steps on stage not to be seen, but to help others see.""Hilde has fire, energy, love, anger, courage. She dances like Ginger Rogers and always lends her voice to the right side," Makarová declared.
Dalik: "What Was My Achievement?"
The award's recipient, Hilde Dalik, admitted that the Diagonale had long been her favorite festival—"not just since today." When Dominik Kamalzadeh called to inform her, she said the first thing that came to mind was an Austrian philosopher's question: "What was my achievement?" With her usual passion, Dalik recounted what actresses once had to endure: her first TV role was as a furniture designer who had to appear in lingerie for clients—"that was the condition for the part." Austrian cinema, she noted, is now in full bloom, with numerous films at the Berlinale, "but unfortunately, we're running out of money." The solution, she argued, is straightforward: a fair contribution, such as a streaming levy. If the ORF regional levy is indeed abolished in 2027, "we may truly have to say goodbye to a large part of our art, which shines far beyond our borders. If we lose that, then what was our achievement?" she asked.
"Finalize the Streaming Levy First—Then the Press"
This year, for the second time, SPÖ Vice Chancellor Andreas Babler—responsible for cultural affairs—was in the audience. As culture minister, he faced calls for faster progress on the streaming levy and better coordination within the coalition. Director Markus Schleinzer ("Rose") referenced a report from earlier in the week, in which NEOS culture spokesperson Gertraud Auinger-Oberzaucher had outlined her party's demands for streaming services to invest in local content—proposals that clash with the ministry's current plan to introduce only a fixed levy. Schleinzer drew a parallel to filmmaking: "We finish the film together first, and only then do we talk to the press." He advised the coalition parties to align internally before presenting a final draft to the public—a suggestion that visibly resonated with the culture minister in attendance.