At this year’s festival, the Critics’ Picks section celebrated two standout Latin American films that captivated audiences with their bold, surreal storytelling and willingness to challenge traditional cinematic perceptions. One of them was Javier Cutrona’s Fishgirl, which received the Jury’s Special Mention. In this exclusive conversation Milani Perera speaks with Javier to explore the inspirations, creative process, and profound themes behind his latest work.

MP: Javier, thank you for joining us! Let’s start at the beginning: what inspired you to become a filmmaker?
JC: It all began when I was 15, and my father bought a homemade camera. I used it to make short films with friends, just for fun. At the time I never imagined making films professionally. I studied industrial design at Cordoba University in Argentina, but everything changed when I discovered the university’s film school just three blocks away. This moment of discovery was a turning point in my life, leading me to abandon industrial design – to my father’s frustration – and pursue filmmaking. My first short film, La Cabeza, was shot on 16mm and performed well at festivals. That’s when I knew this was my path.

MP: Incredible how a small discovery can profoundly change your life. Did your background in industrial design influence your approach to filmmaking?
JC: Absolutely. Industrial design taught me about structure and aesthetics, which carry over into how I frame shots and build narratives. But with filmmaking, it’s not just about visuals but emotion and connection. That combination of precision and storytelling is something I strive for in all my films.

MP: Regarding the connection, let’s discuss Fishgirl. The film’s premise is unique. How did it originate?
JC: The inspiration for Fishgirl came from my son, Francisco, who has autism. Raising him has profoundly changed how I see the world. Society often treats differences as deficiencies, but Francisco taught me to view things differently – with kindness and a sense of wonder. His unique perspective and our shared experiences are at the heart of Fishgirl. The film’s protagonist, Camila, appears eccentric or even mad to others, but her inner world is rich, deeply connected, and transformative.

MP: That’s such a moving inspiration. Your son’s perspective mirrors Camila’s in some ways. How do you see her as a character?
JC: Camila is extraordinary. On the surface people might label her neurotic or delusional because she talks to fish and ants. But that’s not who she truly is. Her reality is shaped by her past, her traumas, and her unique perspective. Her journey in the film – recovering her memories and confronting her pain – is not just about healing. It’s about transcendence. By the end, Camila is no longer bound by the expectations of earthly love or societal norms. She’s connected to something far more significant: a universal energy, a cosmic understanding. Her journey is a testament to the power of resilience and the possibility of transformation.

MP: The mother’s presence is symbolized through the fish, right? Tell us more about the fish as a recurring motif.
JC: The fish in Fishgirl is a powerful symbol. It’s a companion for Camila, a connection to her past, and a manifestation of her mother, who she sees as a mermaid in her tales. The fish embodies tragedy and life simultaneously. I chose a marrow fish, common and not particularly beautiful, to ground the story in the real world – a sharp contrast to the ethereal nature of Camila’s journey. When the fish disappears at the end, it signifies Camila’s transformation and the resolution of her inner conflicts.

MP: The imagery of the fish aligns beautifully with the film’s visual language. Let’s talk about your use of colours; they are so striking.
JC: Colours are integral to the film’s emotional landscape. Red represents passion and violence – the colour of Alan’s brutality and the warmth of Jose’s love. Blue evokes the sea and Camila’s connection to her origins. I aimed for a neon aesthetic, blending vibrant colours with electronic music to create a surreal yet grounded atmosphere. Each colour choice reinforces the duality of beauty and pain in the story.

MP: And that duality is reflected in your editing too. The montages, especially, stand out. How did you develop that approach?
JC: I wanted the editing to reflect Camila’s fragmented reality. The parallel sequences, like the beach scene transitioning into the bloody bathroom, juxtapose the sublime with the harrowing. This contrast mirrors Camila’s journey, where moments of beauty often collide with trauma. The final montages, where Camila seems to exist in multiple places and times, are about capturing the soul’s transcendence beyond physical constraints. The soul is like Janus, the two-faced god: it simultaneously exists in the past, present, and future.

MP: That idea of timelessness extends to Edmundo, the concierge. Is he meant to symbolize something larger?
JC: Yes, Edmundo represents a kind of wisdom and connection that transcends ordinary reality. He’s not a god but has an otherworldly quality, understanding Camila in a way no one else does. The hotel’s overgrown greenery and surreal atmosphere are a microcosm of the film’s themes – chaos and order, life and decay, madness and transcendence. Every detail, from the butterflies on the walls to the plants, contributes to this symbolism.

MP: It seems like every element of the film – from characters to visuals – ties back to this theme of perception and reality. What message do you hope audiences take away?
JC: I want audiences to see that reality is deeply personal. What seems mad or broken to one person can be extraordinary to another. Pain and trauma don’t have to destroy us; they can lead to profound growth and understanding. Ultimately, Fishgirl is about finding beauty and connection amid chaos. The film’s narrative is a deep exploration of this theme, inviting viewers to reflect on their own perceptions and experiences. Camila’s journey is both tragic and uplifting, and I hope viewers feel inspired to look beyond the surface, to see the extraordinary in the ordinary. I want them to understand the importance of personal growth, and how it can turn the most painful experiences into opportunities for understanding and connection.