At the third International Film Criticism Conference, the former Locarno and Berlin head reflected on the shared mission of critics and curators in defending cinema’s diversity

On day two of the third International Film Criticism Conference (7-9 November), Riyadh's Cultural Palace hosted Carlo Chatrian, who reflected on how criticism, curation and audience experience are being reshaped by platforms and changing viewing habits. In conversation with Abdul Jalil Al Nasser, the Saudi Ministry of Culture's Director General for Sector Development and Investment Attraction, Chatrian drew on his years at the helm of Locarno and Berlin and his current role at Italy's National Museum of Cinema, arguing for criticism as a creative act and for festivals as “filters” in a noisy ecosystem.

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He linked his cinephilic awakening to the written word. “When I first started in film criticism, reading reviews and essays was my gateway to appreciating cinema more deeply.” Encounters with Truffaut, Rivette and Godard taught him that cinema is “more than just storytelling”. Today, the field is “more fragmented”, with criticism expressed “through essays, podcasts, and even TikTok”. For him, it is “not only about the film; it’s also about expressing yourself – how you and the film merge into something larger”.

Asked about a media landscape where everything “seems to be promoting, rather than critiquing”, Chatrian drew a close parallel between the critic and the curator. “I don’t see a big difference between a curator and a film critic. In both cases, you make choices… Through programming or writing, you provide your vision of cinema.” That convergence brings responsibility: “The offer is so vast. We need guidance; otherwise, algorithms will decide for us.” The key question, he said, is “whether we are giving critics and journalists the right platforms to express their voices”.

Looking back at Locarno, Chatrian rejected the label of iconoclast while embracing risk. “I never saw myself as bold – but I’m happy people thought we were,” he smiled, stressing: “A festival is never the work of one person, but that of a group.” Locarno’s audience of cinephiles emboldened those audacious choices: “When we programmed Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s Happy Hour – a five-hour film – in a 3,000-seat venue, I felt confident the audience would embrace it.” After all, the festival “premiered Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Salò and screened Soviet films in the 1960s”. That tradition and retrospectives on Lubitsch and Minnelli underpinned a mission to “spotlight emerging voices – taking risks on first or second features”.

Discussing the Berlinale, Chatrian pushed back against being seen as anti-glamour. “I’ve often been seen as ‘the enemy of stars’, though that’s not true,” he said. At Locarno, “we needed stars for the 8,000-seat Piazza Grande”, and he “wanted them in Berlin, too”, even if his quip “We’re not running a fashion week” wasn’t well received back then. “What happens outside the cinema often matters more than what happens inside,” he warned. “Stars and influencers have their place, but the goal should be to draw attention back to the films themselves.

“But again, don’t get me wrong: I think great actors and great talents can really make the difference,” he added, recalling meetings with Sigourney Weaver and younger stars such as Hunter Schafer and Sydney Sweeney. “What matters are the films they perform in,” he underscored.

For Chatrian, “What truly matters is how a story is told […]. It’s not so much the story itself, but the form, the approach and the language of cinema that convey it. I’ve often thought – perhaps in a slightly traditional way – that storytelling always has two sides: on one hand, the narrative; on the other, the style.

“A festival, too, is defined by this curatorial perspective. I believe this aspect is crucial, especially today, when there’s an imbalance between the power of streaming platforms and that of festivals. When you select a film, you watch it alone… But once it’s shown publicly, it becomes something else – a shared experience. The reactions, the atmosphere, and even events happening in the world that day can alter the way a film is perceived.”

Streaming’s rise, he argued, has produced both homogenisation and opportunity. “Streaming has influenced production styles, creating a kind of packaging uniformity – but not always,” he said, citing exceptions such as Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon. Platforms “finance films that might not otherwise exist”, although “that support often comes with expectations”.

He also rejected end-times talk: “People often say cinema is dying, but I disagree. Theatres may be evolving, but festivals are still thriving.”

On the awards-shaping power of European festivals, Chatrian stressed the aspect of responsibility. “Festivals act as filters, so they hold great responsibility.” Critics “play a similar role”, especially as Cannes, Venice and Berlin have grown: with “15 screenings a day”, journalists’ choices “matter”, which is “why I value critics – they remain essential, even in a marketing-driven age”. Smaller festivals, he acknowledged, “struggle as bigger ones dominate”, but they still “support independent filmmaking”.

For Chatrian, criticism and curation are creative practices. “Writing a review or designing a programme is a form of self-expression – a way of mapping the world through cinema.” That belief connects to his credo: “I don’t believe in revolutions; I believe in process.”

At Berlin, he translated that process-orientated thinking into structure, creating Encounters to promote new voices, a change that “had a ripple effect on other sections”. The flood of submissions required smaller committees: with around “8,000 films, […] large groups dilute the debate”, so his role was to connect autonomous teams “into one, coherent vision”.

Now leading the National Museum of Cinema, he relishes direct conversation with the public. The institution is “both an archive and an exhibition space”, which in 2024 “welcomed 800,000 visitors”. He also highlighted the importance of digitisation and archiving as part of “our collective memory”.

As for AI and new technologies, Chatrian refused to make predictions. “I’m not good at them; I can’t even predict the scores of football games,” he smiled. Nonetheless, the takeaway for the audience was pragmatic and hopeful: “These are exciting times. I prefer to live the future, rather than predict it.”