Zurich Film Festival 2026 – Dispatch 3

The 22nd Zurich Film Festival ran from September 24 to October 4. Check here for the full lineup. Some films mentioned below will be reviewed separately in full-length write-ups, but for now, here are some initial impressions.

Club Kid
Gala Premieres

Club Kid is the feature debut of American filmmaker and comedian Jordan Firstman, who first became famous during the COVID-19 pandemic for his viral comedy skits on social media. Firstman not only writes and directs Club Kid, but also stars as the main character, a gay party promoter from New York named Peter. The film opens in 2016 and establishes Peter’s lifestyle, which consists of constant partying, including frequent drug use and sex, with one binge flowing seamlessly into the next. Club Kid then jumps forward a decade, and we quickly learn that Peter’s life has not changed much in the interim. Now in his thirties and starting to look washed-up, he still spends most of his time partying, which leads to tension with his business partner Sophie (Cara Delevingne).

Things are about to change for Peter, however. One day, Edison (Kirby Howell-Baptiste) arrives unannounced at his doorstep with a 10-year-old child named Arlo (Reggie Absolom) in tow. Edison is one of two British women who partied with Peter in the film’s opening sequence, which led to a rare—perhaps even the only—occasion when Peter had sex with a woman, namely Edison’s friend. To Peter’s shock, Edison claims that Arlo is Peter and her friend’s son, and that Peter must take care of Arlo after her friend recently died by suicide. When Edison promptly flies back to England without saying goodbye, Peter finds himself in charge of Arlo, having to assume his parental responsibilities and get his act together.

Firstman’s feature debut premiered to enthusiastic reactions at the Cannes Film Festival earlier this year, where it sparked a bidding war that ultimately led to A24 acquiring worldwide distribution rights for $17 million. Having seen the film, the hype is easy to understand: Club Kid is an accomplished dramedy with considerable crowd-pleasing potential. The film operates on three interconnected levels, with the first being its authentic, non-judgmental portrayal of New York’s queer nightlife community. Thanks to Adam Newport-Berra’s assured 35mm cinematography, excellent needle drops, and colorful side characters, the club scenes are highly energetic and immersive. Stylistically, this level of the film feels reminiscent of Sean Baker (Anora, The Florida Project) without quite reaching the poetry of his best work.

The second level is the father-son relationship that develops between Peter and Arlo, which is not always convincing. A manchild suddenly having to take responsibility for an actual child, in the process maturing and growing to love the child despite his initial reluctance, is a well-worn trope that feels overly familiar, even if the queer setting brings something new to the table. For large portions of the film, Peter taking care of Arlo is surprisingly frictionless. As a result, the father-son relationship, although undeniably sweet, feels much less authentic than the club scenes. This limits the viewer’s emotional investment, even if Firstman’s charisma and the strong performance from young Absolom ensure that the audience still roots for their characters.

Toward the end, Firstman introduces a tonal shift that leads the film to its third level. To avoid spoilers, suffice it to say that this level operates in more serious, emotionally consequential territory and includes an excellent performance from Diego Calva (Babylon) as a therapist and potential love interest for Peter. The way Firstman’s screenplay brings about this tonal shift might feel contrived, but it ultimately results in the film packing an emotional wallop—even for those who, like me, feel at a remove from the father-son relationship. The ending also works on a thematic level and adds depth to the film’s exploration of whether growing up requires abandoning an unconventional lifestyle or simply learning to inhabit it more responsibly.

Club Kid is a promising feature debut from Firstman despite its flaws—which, in addition to the father-son relationship, include some broad humor and characterization. Overall, though, its strengths easily outweigh its weaknesses, and it is hard not to get swept up by this entertaining, funny, and ultimately moving film that should appeal to a wide range of audiences. 3/4 Stars

La bola negra
Signatures

Another queer film that prompted enthusiastic reactions and a bidding war following its world premiere at the Cannes Film Festival, La bola negra was made by Spanish filmmakers Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi. The directing duo, known as “Los Javis,” have risen to prominence in Spain in recent years for creating several successful TV series, such as Paquita Salas, Veneno, and La Mesías. Additionally, Calvo and Ambrossi were a couple from 2012 until November 2025—they ended their personal relationship while La bola negra was in production but remain committed to their professional partnership.

Their new film marks Los Javis’ first major international breakthrough, and it is a highly ambitious work with impressive production values. This sprawling epic intercuts the stories of three gay men in different time periods. The first story is inspired by an unfinished play by Federico García Lorca that gives the film its title. Lorca was a famous Spanish poet and playwright who began writing the play shortly before he was murdered during the Spanish Civil War in 1936. This storyline follows the closeted Carlos (Milo Quifes), who lives in Granada in 1932 and wants to become a member of an exclusive casino club.

The second story is inspired by the play La piedra oscura by Spanish playwright Alberto Conejero, who co-wrote the film with Los Javis. It follows Sebastián (Spanish singer-songwriter Guitarricadelafuente in his first acting role) and takes place in 1937 during the Spanish Civil War. Sebastián joins the Nationalist army to survive after an attack by the Italian Air Force on his village. He must later guard Rafael Rodríguez Rapún (Miguel Bernardeau), a wounded Republican prisoner of war. The third story is set in 2017 and follows Alberto (Carlos González), a historian and former playwright who lives in Madrid and learns about his estranged grandfather’s past after the latter dies.

Los Javis’ reach occasionally exceeds their grasp, and the way the three stories interweave is not always graceful—especially in the film’s first half, when it is unclear how they connect. La bola negra takes its time establishing the connections, and until they become apparent, the cuts from one story to another often feel disorienting and intrusive. Combined with a hefty runtime of 155 minutes, this means that watching La bola negra requires a certain amount of patience. That said, this patience is a worthwhile investment, as the three stories ultimately come together in a powerful, poetic way that is highly rewarding—both emotionally and thematically.

Speaking of the film’s themes, La bola negra explores how private desire intersects with collective history. It portrays the struggle to live authentically in societies that suppress personal freedom and queerness, with the titular black ball—in addition to making a literal appearance in the 1932 storyline—being a powerful metaphor for exclusion. Los Javis make the personal and broader societal costs of this exclusion deeply felt, mourning the loss of the lives and loves that could have been without repression. Through the 2017 storyline, they also build a bridge to the present by exploring the lingering effects of Spain’s fascist past, as well as themes of memory and erasure. Additionally, they highlight the power of art, particularly its ability to bring people together and to act as a tool of resistance.

Shot on 35mm by cinematographer Gris Jordana, La bola negra is a visually striking film with several stunning sequences. Los Javis use a distinct style for each story, and the excellent production design helps bring the historic settings to life. The film also features strong performances from a cast made up mostly of fresh faces—it not only marks Guitarricadelafuente’s acting debut, but also Quifes’. That said, a couple of big names pop up as well: Penélope Cruz and Glenn Close both have small but significant roles. While their scenes are among the film’s best (particularly those with Cruz), both actresses are well integrated into the cast and never feel out of place.

All these elements turn La bola negra into a one-of-a-kind queer epic, and Los Javis must be applauded for their ambition. I might not have loved every minute of the film, but due to the cumulative weight it acquires over the course of its runtime, I came away feeling that I had seen a major work with considerable staying power. Moreover, it is the kind of film that will likely play even better on a second viewing—particularly the 1932 and 2017 storylines, which are initially less engaging than the 1937 storyline, but ultimately turn out to be indispensable puzzle pieces that contribute a lot to the film’s overall impact.

La bola negra was co-produced by El Deseo, the production company of Pedro Almodóvar (All About My Mother, Volver), whose involvement feels fitting given the film’s preoccupation with queerness and Spain’s fascist past. It is already being touted as a serious Oscars contender after winning the Best Director Award at the Cannes Film Festival—shared ex aequo with Fatherland—and the People’s Choice Award at the Toronto International Film Festival, as well as being selected as Spain’s entry for the Best International Feature Film Oscar. Shortly after its world premiere, Netflix acquired US distribution rights for La bola Negra for approximately $5 million. Compared with other Netflix films, it will have a relatively long theatrical window before arriving on the streaming service on December 2—rightly so, as such an ambitious and sprawling film should be seen on the biggest screen possible. 3.5/4 Stars

Ink
Gala Premieres

Ink, the new film by Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, 28 Days Later), tells the true story of the rise of the British tabloid newspaper The Sun. In the late 1960s, Rupert Murdoch (Guy Pearce) acquired the then-struggling paper and hired Larry Lamb (Jack O’Connell) as its editor. The film follows these two men as they set The Sun on a completely new course—embracing a populist approach that simultaneously leads to a massive rise in sales and a drastic erosion of journalistic ethics.

For viewers familiar with Boyle’s work, it will be no surprise that the most striking aspect of Ink is his direction. Completely disregarding the conventions of period dramas, Boyle once again brings his signature kinetic energy to the table and pulls out all the stops. Through stylistic elements such as restless camera movement, unusual angles, and rapid-fire editing, Ink has a punk attitude that is underscored by anachronistic needle drops. This style perfectly suits the film’s first half, which portrays the new staff of The Sun figuring out and implementing the paper’s new course. Not only does Boyle’s stylized direction emulate the sensationalist approach of tabloids, but it also ensures that the audience gets caught up in this band of misfits taking on the journalistic establishment—despite being fully aware that they are operating in morally dubious territory.

After its exhilarating first hour, the second half of Ink puts a stronger focus on the consequences of The Sun’s populist reporting and lack of journalistic ethics. In theory, this is laudable, but James Graham’s screenplay—adapted from his own stage play of the same name—does not offer much depth in this regard. As a result, Ink rarely gets under the viewer’s skin, and it is best approached as a piece of entertainment rather than a grand statement on journalistic ethics—despite a closing montage suggesting that the events depicted in the film ultimately led to today’s glut of fake news and clickbait. While this montage is effective, Ink never builds the foundation necessary for it to land with full force. Additionally, it is surprising how tamely Murdoch is portrayed in the film, with Lamb emerging as the more ruthless of the two.

An assessment of Ink would not be complete without mentioning Boyle’s controversial use of artificial intelligence. The director has confirmed that Ink contains approximately 30 seconds of AI-generated imagery. While a lot could be written about this, suffice it to say that this feels like a misstep—not only is it at odds with a film arguing for the importance of ethics and honesty, but the sequences in question do not add anything of value. As far as I can tell, AI was used to depict mice scurrying around in the offices of The Sun and to animate old archival photographs—the latter resulting in a rather unconvincing appearance of Margaret Thatcher in an unnecessary dream sequence toward the end.

Ink has enough merit to be recommended despite its lack of depth and questionable use of AI. In addition to Boyle’s dynamic direction, the strong performances from the entire cast—which also includes Claire Foy as a fictional reporter at The Sun—stand out. While unlikely to leave a lasting impression on viewers, it is a highly entertaining and watchable film whose runtime flies by. As such, Ink is a worthwhile addition to Boyle’s filmography, even if it does not reach the heights of his best work. 3/4 Stars

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David Hill is a lawyer from Switzerland. He has long had a passion for cinema, and he devotes most of his spare time to watching and researching films. His primary interest focuses on arthouse films, and he occasionally contributes to Deep Focus Review as a guest writer. Follow him on Letterboxd.