Issue 00 — Spring 2025
/7
Maike Mia Höhne on whose film will survive the longest
Maike explores how deeply rooted biases in
narratives, formats, and curatorial practices
shape which films are remembered — and
which are left unseen. She advocates for
greater visibility of short, accessible formats
on mainstream platforms, and proposes
speculative exercises in data analysis that
combine machine learning with critical
thinking to challenge dominant patterns of
representation.
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GALLERY
How do we give films a real chance to survive?
MMH It’s something I’ve thought about for a long time — not just in film, but more broadly: who decides which stories matter? And why?
A few years ago at the Kurzfilm Festival Hamburg, we ran a project where we asked our audiences to recognise short films from a selection of 100 titles we put together, from art to documentaries, fiction to experimental work. We wanted to highlight the diversity of artists working in the form. It wasn’t about defining a canon, but showing the range of voices out there. I see the festival as a space for that — to invite other positions and represent stories that aren’t often heard.
But access is still a challenge. Who actually sees these films? That’s where television, schools, and major festivals come in. These platforms can shape what gets visibility and who is framed as important.
I still see many of the same old narratives and I ask: why that story, again? How can I understand, say, a story from a young migrant in Tunisia if he doesn’t have the means to tell it, to have it screened, to have it travel?
We recently invited Caroline Cassin to bring her programme — Women and Cocaine — to the festival. Her work focuses on the representation of women in cinema during the 1930s — a moment of great creative freedom before censorship set in. She truly reframed that era. Why don’t we know more about it? Maybe because history wasn’t preserved that way.
There are more films than ever — but which ones last, and who decides, are questions that need more debate. Sometimes something remains in the mainstream simply because the director is a known name. Most of the time, money plays a huge role — from production to distribution to storage. Digital costs today add up quickly: licensing, DCPs, uploads.
Archives play a role too. They’re institutions, with their own politics. Unlike libraries, some archives aren’t fully open — you often need to apply to access them. We never say “film library,” it’s always “archive,” which still, to me, implies a kind of gatekeeping.
What gets remembered and what gets shown are deeply linked. How are curation, mediation, and platforms connected?
MMH The deeper issue lies in the narratives: what kinds of representation are remembered? Which characters? Which stories? Too often, it’s the same stereotypes that endure — like the “ideal” female figure, always nice, always passive. And it becomes a repetition of what’s already been legitimised.
Take Taxi Driver — why is it a masterpiece? It’s so full of aggression. I understand its place in film history, how it responded to Hollywood at the time. But why do I still need to watch it, again and again? Why so many versions of that same male alienation? I want to see something else. Because to me, watching films allows me to experience what I haven’t seen or felt before.
This repetition is part of the canon. And canons are shaped — by curators, by institutions, by boards. Change means more than writing new stories. Before that, we need reflection: why do we keep telling the same ones?
Format plays a role too. Short films open the door to more voices and perspectives. You don’t need big resources to make a short, and it can be just as powerful as a feature. But broadcasters and platforms often ignore the power of shorts. In much of the film world, format is still linked to prestige and budget. But we shouldn’t underestimate what shorts can do — they might be the only space where this level of diversity exists, precisely because they’re more accessible to make.
That’s where platforms come in. I appreciate MUBI, especially early on, because they didn’t draw hard lines between shorts and features. Both existed in curated selections. That kind of curation matters. When you turn to something like Netflix, yes, they sometimes have shorts — but good luck finding them. You need to already know the title. Their system doesn’t guide you; it’s driven by algorithms.
Human mediation is essential. Like in museums, where people are asking for more representative curators — the same applies to film. If programmers are familiar with global cinema, you’ll find films outside the dominant Western narrative. Mediation isn’t just technical — it’s cultural and political.
How stories survive also comes down to audiences and what they demand. How can we better understand — and develop — audience agency?
MMH Film is precious. It can change people. But not everyone sees it that way. Sometimes the moment you talk about race or representation, institutions act like they have no agency. They say, “We won’t program this — audience numbers might drop 20%.” But what about the other 80%?
These “leveling” strategies are red herrings. They protect the status quo. And they work against helping audiences grow new preferences.
Audience agency has to be taken seriously. I love platforms like DAFilms — they do this. They focus on documentaries, they link with festivals, and importantly, they include youth. Kids aren’t just “the future” — they’re already here, already part of the audience. If we don’t reach them now, they won’t become tomorrow’s cinephiles.
And then again, we have to look at representation — who appears in films, and how. People come to the cinema to see versions of life. But how close are those stories to their lives? Especially in places like Germany, I think TV and cinema are still removed from much of what you see on the street.
As a filmmaker and producer, how do questions around representation, storytelling and audience agency play out in your creative work?
MMH I’ll give you an example. In the late ’90s and early 2000s, in mainstream erotic films, women were often shown giving blowjobs — not out of love or desire, but because they had to. And almost always to someone who wasn’t their partner. There was a film called Intimacy (2001) by Patrice Chéreau that captured this trend. These portrayals felt detached from tenderness or connection.
I wanted to make a film that showed the beauty of sexuality — the joy of a blowjob. The pleasure in giving and receiving. Something positive and fun. In the ’90s, porn felt made for a solitary, male viewer. I didn’t see myself in it. I wanted to create something different — tender, real.
Von der Hingabe (2002) was a short about a couple, exploring their love and intimacy. We didn’t hear their conversation — we just felt the emotion. At the time, that was rare. The film was well-received — and sold. But what fascinated me was how people reacted: watching a sexual act with tenderness made them — and myself — rethink intimacy.
What I learned is this: there are thousands of ways to live and love, but those stories are still missing from mainstream cinema. Whether I’m 20 or 55, my experience of love evolves — and I want to see that reflected on screen.
You’ve spoken about stale narrative patterns and representation bias. Can technology help us change that?
MMH It would be so interesting to gather a sample of films and analyse how often these clichés repeat. Machine learning could help us understand patterns of representation more deeply. Imagine scanning thousands of films and tracking who speaks, who holds power in a scene, what kinds of relationships are shown. It would show us what norms we’re reproducing — often without noticing. The same can apply to character representation and diversity.
Then we’d have evidence. A case to bring to broadcasters or funders. Ok, audiences may drop, but if there is demand for more diverse roles or characters, why should we cater only to those who threaten to leave?
And sure, they already do plenty of data analysis — but to sell, not to ask critical questions. They’re not asking, “Who receives the blowjob — the husband or the lover?” They’re not interested in the politics of representation, only consumer behavior. They have the data, and the tools.
The real opportunity is combining technology with critical thinking. The machine alone can’t do it. You need people who understand storytelling and culture — mediators — to ask the right questions.
That’s how we use these tools, not just to sell the next hit, but to understand the stories we’re telling today — and the ones we would like to tell tomorrow.