The Melbourne International Film Festival (MIFF), founded in 1952 in Olinda and relocated to Melbourne the following year, is one of the oldest film festivals in the world and Australia’s largest celebration of cinema. MIFF is a not-for-profit organisation, focused on bringing a curated global program of cinema to Melbourne over 18 days, and supporting Australian filmmaking via industry programs such as The MIFF Premiere Fund for Australian features, a Development /Lab program and the financing/market event for producers and distributors.
The most recent edition, held from 7–24 August 2025, marked the festival’s 73rd year and showcased more than 275 works across many major Melbourne venues. Highlights included the opening film If I Had Legs I’d Kick You, and the world premiere of the documentary Jimmy Barnes: Working Class Man (Andrew Farell, Australia, 2025) about a significant Australian musical icon.
The festival’s retrospective programming for 2025 notably features an expansive survey of the work of Belgian auteur Chantal Akerman — the “Chantal Akerman: Traces” slate. This is MIFF’s largest-ever retrospective of a single director, comprising 27 films across 13 sessions. The slate marks three milestones: what would have been Akerman’s 75th birthday, the tenth anniversary of her passing, and the 50th anniversary of her landmark film Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Brussels (1975). Among the highlights are restored Australian premieres of titles such as Les Rendez‑vous d’Anna (1978) and Portrait d’une jeune fille de la fin des années 60 à Bruxelles (1994). In addition to that major director retrospective, the festival’s “Restorations” and “Critical Condition” strands also featured heavily in the retrospective agenda: restored classics and rarely-seen works were revived (including restorations of films by Jane Campion and Australian provocateur Philip Brophy) and the Critical Condition series invited critics and programmers to revisit films through a nostalgia-lens and discussion format.
The following report, restricted to the first days of the festival, reflects personal impressions of and a particular perspective on its programme.
Attending the opening weekend of the Melbourne International Film Festival (MIFF) in 2025, I had hoped for a deep, immersive experience – the kind that would reaffirm why MIFF holds such a strong reputation in Australia. Instead, I left feeling somewhat disconnected, unsure whether it was the programming, the tone, or just my own expectations that weren’t quite met.
The festival began with If I Had Legs I’d Kick You (Mary Bronstein, USA, 2925), a film that set an uncertain tone. The film’s characters lacked authenticity, and the supernatural elements never quite committed enough. It felt disingenuous, and unfortunately, a jarring start to the weekend.
Next was The Love That Remains (Hlynur Pálmason, Island, Denmark, Sweden, France, 2025), a slow-burning piece that saw audience members nodding off before it veered unexpectedly into surrealism – and then back again, recklessly. I followed this with Young Mothers (OT: Jeunes Mères, Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, Belgium, France, 2025), a gritty, realistic depiction of systemic hardship. While more grounded and with more truth, it too leaned into a sense of hopelessness, making for a fairly heavy feeling.
The second evening offered a brighter spot with some International Shorts, which stood out for their quality and creativity. Nervous Energy (Eve Liu, USA, 2025), a witty take on student filmmakers, was a highlight. I then took a chance on The Extraordinary Miss Flower (Iain Forsyth, Jane Pollard, UK, 2025) – a stylistic, dance-infused piece that was intriguing at first but gradually became grating in its repetition.
By day three, I finally found the emotional heart I had been seeking. The Legend of Ochi (Isaiah Saxon, USA, UK, Finland, 2025) was a visually stunning, mystical film, echoing the spirit of Jim Henson’s work with heartfelt puppetry and world-building. It was a welcome change – tender, moving, and immersive.
Blue Moon (Richard Linklater, USA, 2025) followed with a deeply affecting performance by Ethan Hawke, capturing the melancholy of being left behind when one’s relevance fades. The next film Love (OT: Kjærlighet, Dag Johan Haugerud, Norway, 2024), however, provoked discomfort – not in its quality, but in its bleak portrayal of intimacy as disconnected and transactional. It raised real questions about commitment and what love means in a time where it's often reduced to fleeting encounters. I think people have forgotten the far deeper meaning to the word.
Kontinental ‘25 (Radu Jude, Romania, 2025) was a powerful commentary on homelessness, forcing reflection on how desensitized we've become to crisis – even as it unfolds right in front of us on the street.
Despite its Cannes buzz the film Eddington (Ari Aster, USA, 2025) upon first reflection was candid and entertaining. In hindsight, I think its extremity diluted its voice. Still, I appreciated its Western setting, which lent it a certain narrative logic.
As a fan of Jerry Lewis, I was drawn to the docu From Darkness to Light (Eric Friedler, Michael Lurie, USA, Germany, 2024) and its investigation into the film The Day the Clown Cried. Lewis’s ambition and tragic misfortune surrounding the unreleased film was heartbreaking – a reminder that some failures are born not from lack of talent, but from unfortunate timing and circumstances.
By Design (Amanda Kramer, USA, 2025) looked to have so much potential in my area of interest, it aimed high but faltered under its own ambition. Abstract choices – particularly bizarre dance sequences – distracted from the core message about identity and the need to feel valued. A clearer focus might have elevated it.
Lastly before I had to head home, I went to another documentary I, Poppy (Vivek Chaudhary, India, 2025) which shared great truth but was heart wrenching in its injustices.
Final Thoughts
While I only attended the first weekend, which offers just a sliver of MIFF’s full scope, I was left wondering: where was the festival’s soul? The selection I saw leaned heavily on disconnection, discomfort, and despair. Without a thematic through-line or emotional cohesion, the experience felt fragmented.
With so much content packed into the program, perhaps some of the intimacy that festivals can offer has been lost. I heard of attendees seeing upwards of 70 films in three weeks – an impressive feat, but it begs the question: can you really connect deeply when there’s so much to consume?
In the end, MIFF didn’t disappoint because of bad films. Rather, it felt like a festival unsure of its own heart – and I was hoping to find more of mine reflected on screen.