BFF 2025: Love & Rebellion 

Breakthroughs Film Festival (BFF) is starting this November 21st, and I want to give you reasons as to why you should be excited about it!

BFF aims to bridge the gender gap within the film industry by prioritizing talent from women, trans, and gender noncomforming people. Films will be presented at the Paradise Theatre, Toronto from November 21-23rd! I've only seen four short films so far, but they blew my mind.

Let's get into it!

Rebellion in the hospital

Alice is Fine:

Timely. Prevalent. This is a short film that will slip under your skin. Alice is Fine is about a young woman named Alice who gets an ultrasound for consistent pain in her abdomen. There, the doctor determines that her results came clear and that there is nothing to worry about. As Alice tries to explain her pain, the doctor undermines her symptoms and instead offers her alternatives like exercising, or taking deep breaths. Obviously, the implication being that women are too sensitive and that she's overselling her pain.

"Why does my pain not matter to you people?"

Alice's experience demonstrates a longstanding disjoint with women and the medical system. As I was watching the short, Alice's frustration started creeping up on me; her politeness was suffocating, her desire to stand up for herself palpable. Meanwhile, the doctor kept talking over her, filling the room with his authority and arrogance.

As a woman, I felt myself being swept up by Alice's story. The film did an incredible job of building tension, using comedy and cinematography in a way that felt both natural and evocative. I felt that all the elements, cinematography, acting, and sound, came together in a way that allowed the magnitude of Alice's situation to come to the forefront.

Sarah Hime brought her all to the screen; I don't want to spoil anything, but her monologue was absolutely phenomenal! Her suppressed rage danced over her every expression; it was easy to slip into her shoes, to feel the office walls start pressing down on her. As she waved the ultrasound stick in the doctor's face, I was cheering her on behind the screen.

I hated the doctor; I mean, I felt a visceral rage at the way he treated Alice, and I think that comes to show just how perfect Matthew Edison was for the role, and how incredible the writing team was at writing him. He was entrenched in performativity, weaponizing politeness and sympathy in a way that prevented Alice from advocating for herself. It was icky and sleazy, and it worked perfectly to help get the message across: the medical system is failing women.

Signs:

Since we hate hospitals, Signs brings in a fun, experimental approach to dismantling the system one sign at a time. Done with the stringent rules and regulations at the doctor's office, Allegra (Leah Doz) takes a stand ... through dance.

Within the span of eight minutes, the film creates a world that feels visceral and real. Every element of the film comes together in a way that is effective and engaging. I mean, the dialogue is fun and light, but it gives both Allegra and G.G. (Scott Yamamura) enough personality for them to feel real. Even the sandwich guy adds a level of comedic relief but also a taste of privilege as we begin to wonder what actually is deemed acceptable and by whom.

A little piece of art de la resistance, Signs reminds us that simply abiding by the rules is not enough. Sometimes it is worth breaking the standard protocol, and it only takes one person to get people moving. I think it was particularly important that the story takes place at a doctor's office, where life is encumbered by mindless, meaningless order. Without having to say much, the film provokes audiences to question who these rules are targeted towards and who is actually enforced to follow them. Signs is an example of what it takes to question a system that has normalized specific standards and regulations, and asks the real question, like: what would happen if we chose not to follow it? As Allegra takes her stance, the film reminds us that sometimes, it's really not that deep.

The Shape of Love

Rosa's Flowers:

The first word that comes to mind about this short film is bittersweet. Rosa's Flowers is an exceptionally beautiful film with motifs and colours that will leave you breathless. Weaving in and out of the past and present, the short film depicts the cycle of grief, guilt, and love that coexist through time.

I think that the narrative is intentionally abstract, driven by emotion and feeling over any grounded plot, which might feel like a reason to deter you from watching, but it works in the film's favour. We, the audience, don't ever know for sure what happens exactly in the present (the presumption is a shooting), but it doesn't really matter. What matters is that the event triggers the past into the present; suddenly, Rosa's hand-painted, flowered textiles interject into the main character, Emily's, day to day. Fabrics of time flutter; Emily is thrust into a liminal space where her reality, dreams, and memories merge.

Now, I love circular narratives, and Rosa's Flower is exactly that. The present becomes the past, both haunting and being relived by Emily. We learn that Rosa was her friend back in Indonesia and that during a protest, she was killed. It's important to note that Emily is Chinese and Rosa is Indonesian— the film quietly explores the nuances and complications of Indonesian politics at the time, and how this plays into Emily's guilt in the present.

As her past slowly unravels, what comes into focus is Emily's friendship with Rosa despite their cultural differences. Imbued with warm lighting, Emily's memories of Rosa elicits sensations of melancholia and nostalgia. Through her memories and dreams, Emily slowly navigates what was lost in her past. The final scene is especially poignant, showcasing a moment of understanding and forgiveness between both girls.

The flowered fabrics billow from background to foreground. Love blooms steadily in her mind and returns to the present, alive and yellow-petalled.

Summer Triangle:

Love is a cat. And pink heart-shaped sunglasses.

Summer Triangle is about a young man who is contemplating taking his life by jumping off the roof of a building. Before he can make any drastic decision, a young girl enters the roof to feed her cat and finds him standing on the ledge. Fate or coincidence? The stars align, and what might have been a moment of tragedy becomes a moment of fate and friendship.

I'll be honest, this short film made me so excited to close-read it. Immediately, I thought that the girl was the whole constellation, meant by fate to pull the boy in, off the ledge. Later, when I rewatched it, I started thinking that the three of them, the cat, the boy, and the girl, made up the summer triangle, each a star pulled together merely by gravity. The moment between them, then, felt cosmic.

What's uniquely clever about Summer Triangle is that it plays with the cosmic in a very grounded way. We never know if the girl is real or imagined, but it doesn't affect the outcome of the story. What she, and later the cat's meowing, signifies is that sometimes all it takes is a little reminder of love and friendship. Their conversation was short, but it put things into perspective. From up there on the rooftop, the girl returned to him an element of innocence and lightheartedness that brought him back to the world.

Summer Triangle takes a heavy moment and reminds us that sometimes all it takes to change the course of someone's life is a little bit of kindness.

There are so many films ready to be watched at the Breakthroughs Festival! Get your ticket now and go watch as many as you can!

Information can be found here: https://www.breakthroughsfilmfestival.com/festival/2025