The Animation Pimp Goes to Annecy!

If you’re like me, you’re only forced to attend Annecy every seven years or so. It’s been 30 years since my first Annecy, and my feelings haven’t changed much. It’s always had a somewhat depersonalized feel, but now it’s verging on dissociation. Annecy has become an industrial/cultural mess. The ass-kiss meter is so high that the organizers seem on the verge of forgetting they are part of — and were created by — the international animators, especially those who saw animation as an art form.

Let me pause while you steam.

First off, don’t take it all so seriously. Annecy is the festival we love to hate — like most of America hates New York and L.A., or how Canada loathes that wannabe-American city, Toronto. It’s a cocktail of truth, bitterness, and grudging respect. Annecy is the big brother to Zagreb and Ottawa — slightly richer, more successful, and maybe a little drunk at dinner, but still family. There will always be a healthy mix of collaboration and conspiracy between the three oldest animation festivals... and a lot of subtle side-eye.

Secondly, since Marcel Jean took over as Artistic Director, Annecy’s competition programming is the strongest it’s been since I started attending. Jean has brought a clear vision, a willingness to select difficult works, and a commitment to showcasing stories from underrepresented countries.

That said, navigating Annecy isn’t just about screenings and schmoozing. It’s also about surviving the pains of a festival that’s expanded into a full-blown industry tsunami. The festival has become increasingly overwhelming — too many people, too many agendas, too many events stacked on top of each other like a crumbling Jenga tower. You need stamina, scheduling skills, and ideally, some teleportation powers. Annecy no longer flows — it barrels forward, like a Netflix pitch meeting on Ritalin. And still, you go, because beneath all the chaos and commercialism, there are flashes of raw, beautiful, unfiltered animation. You just have to dig a little deeper these days to find them.

Alright… so… here is The Animation Pimp’s Guide to Being Reluctantly Forced to Visit Annecy.

Hungarian Animation – Country of Focus

Hungary is a solid choice for the country spotlight. Make sure you catch a few of the programs (there are a lot). It’s basically one-stop shopping through Hungarian animation history. Expect classic programs focused on notable features and shorts, a tribute to many female animators, and a celebration of the vibrant work from the MOME school. Alongside a retrospective of Réka Bucsi’s work, there’s also the spectacular debut of an exhibition featuring Sandor Reisenbuchler’s collage art.

Adding a twist: throughout the festival, characters from assorted Hungarian films will appear and interact with the local architecture. That’s right — Hungarian animation meets Pokémon Go, or something like that.

Canadian Animation – Country of TRUE Focus

Am I biased? Well, yeah, even though I’m not all that patriotic and can’t stand flags, anthems, or all that jingoistic nonsense. Still... Canada.

How about those animations at Annecy this year? 51st state, my ass.

Take a look at this year’s short and feature competitions. Yes, there’s buzz around the new features from Sylvain Chomet (A Magnificent Life) and Momoko Seto (Dandelion’s Odyssey)... but there’s a potent and diverse group of Canadian films that deserve serious attention:

Features & Specials

• Death Does Not Exist – Félix Dufour-Laperrière
• Endless Cookie – Seth and Peter Scriver
• Space Cadet – Kid Koala

Shorts

• Bread Will Walk – Alex Boya
• The Girl Who Cried Pearls – Chris Lavis and Maciek Szczerbowski
• The Gnawer of Rocks – Louise Flaherty
• Hairy Legs – Andrea Dorfman
• Fusion – Richard Reeves (the most NFB animator never produced by the NFB)
• Life with an Idiot – Theodore Ushev (technically a France production, but hey, Ushev lives in Montreal)

What’s wild here is the sheer spread — East Coast to West, narrative to experimental, NFB to “NFB turned me down so I made it anyway.” There’s no monolithic “Canadian style” anymore, and that’s a good thing. We’ve traded in our polite earnestness for something less predictable and more feral.

Okay, There’s More to It Than Just Those Damn Canadians

Since you demanded (you could have asked nicely), here are some non-Canadian highlights from the short and feature competitions:

Shorts - From the Official Competition, Off Limits, and Perspectives

• Il burattino e la balena – Roberto Catani
• Luna Rossa – Priit and Olga Pärn
• Skrff – Corrie Francis Parks, Daniel Nuderscher
• The Graffiti – Ryo Orikasa
• Snake Soup – Zack Demirtshyan
• The Moustached Clown Circus – Ana Comes, Tomás Alzogaray Vanella, Paz Bloj
• Chronicity – Aleta Rajic
• By the Way – Mahboobeh Kalaee, Ali Fotoohi

You should definitely check out the Perspectives screenings — they’re filled with works from countries that rarely make it onto the usual animation festival circuit. These films often try to reckon with the historical, cultural, and social chaos that shape their regions.

Features

• Olivia and the Clouds – Tomás Pichardo Espaillat
• The Great History of Western Philosophy – Aria Covamonas
• Tales from the Magic Garden – David Štumpf, Patrik Pašš, Leon Vidmar, Jean-Claude Rozec
• Lesbian Space Princess – Emma Hough Hobbs, Leela Varghese

Receptions

There are about 40,000 receptions. You’ll miss 39,997 of them. But don’t worry — if you crash three in one evening, you can construct a full meal from finger food, average tasting wine, and awkward conversation. It’s like speed dating for the introverted inebriates.

Lake

The lake. That beautiful, smug body of water. Take a walk, take a breath, and try to remember what it felt like to care about anything other than screening slots and badge tiers. Then go back and suffer like you deserve to.

Masterclasses

Not my scene — I'm more of a “sit alone in a bar and talk to strangers about anything not animation” type — but if you go to just one, make it Michel Gondry. His work is like a walking daydream.

Parties

Loud. Cramped. Overrated. And you’re probably not invited. It’s become a whole Annecy trend to spend half the festival chasing down invites to these supposedly legendary hullabaloos. Back in the “old days,” a friend of mine was the Obi-Wan Kenobi of party crashing. We’d just walk up, and before I even knew what was happening, we were inside. 20 minutes later: bored. We'd leave and go to a bar. That’s where we’d find the real party.

There. How’s that? Does that help?

I hope so — and I wish you great mental, emotional, and physical strength during your journey through the labyrinth known as Annecy.

Oh — and one final tip: while waiting in line at the “toilettes” in the Bonlieu restaurant, resist the urge to comment on the incorrect use of the plural when there is, in fact, only one sad, overworked “toilette.” Someone will inevitably be occupying it like they’ve leased it for the season. And if you mumble something about the absurdity of French grammar while half-crossed from too much lukewarm rosé, there's a decent chance a nearby purist will take offense at your pronunciation and attempt to start a duel — despite the fact that all you really want to do is pee and make it to the next awkward networking event with your bladder and dignity intact.

A well-known figure in the world of independent animation, writer, author & curator Chris Robinson is the Artistic Director of the Ottawa International Animation Festival.