Locarno Film Festival Embraces Comedy to Counter Global Gloom

The world is burning, but Locarno refuses to mourn. In a bold, defiant pivot that challenges the somber status quo of the global film circuit, Switzerland’s premier film festival has declared that laughter is the only civilized response to a planet in distress. Artistic Director Giona A. Nazzaro has curated a lineup that aggressively counters the tide of humanitarian crises and societal collapse. The numbers speak for themselves: a staggering 6 out of 17 films in the main competition are comedies. This is not just a programming choice; it is a statement.

While other festivals spiral into heavy-handed drama, Locarno surges in the opposite direction. Nazzaro bets that cinema’s relevance today lies not in wallowing in misery, but in confronting it with satire. This is not escapism. It is a confrontation. By defying industry trends, the festival forces audiences to look the apocalypse in the eye and laugh—if they dare.

A legend lands in Ticino. This year, the festival’s spotlight burns brightest on Jackie Chan, the guest of honor who Nazzaro audaciously hails as "the Buster Keaton of modern cinema." This comparison is no accident; it cements Chan’s status not merely as an action star, but as a master of physical comedy and deadpan brilliance. With a career spanning over 50 years, Chan has masterfully blended martial arts with humor, creating a universal language of cinema that transcends borders.

His arrival carries weight beyond the silver screen. It coincides with the critical 75th anniversary of diplomatic relations between Switzerland and the People’s Republic of China. While the world grapples with shifting geopolitical alliances, Chan’s presence in Locarno serves as a potent reminder of cinema’s power to bridge divides. He stands as an icon who has spent half a century turning physical struggle into art, perfectly embodying the festival's theme of resilience through performance.

Do not expect polite chuckles. The humor permeating Locarno this year is dark, subversive, and undeniably anarchic. Leading this charge is Romanian director Radu Jude, who returns to the main competition with a chaotic, anarchic interpretation of "Dracula." This is comedy with teeth—satire designed to bite back at a world that has lost its way. Nazzaro’s selection proves that comedy is not synonymous with lightness; it can be a weapon.

Throughout the festival’s sections, irony and satire replace sentimentality. These films do not offer comfort; they offer a mirror. By leaning into the absurd, filmmakers are exposing the fractures in our reality more effectively than traditional dramas ever could. In this context, laughter becomes a radical act of defiance against the grim headlines dominating the news cycle.

Tragedy has not been erased; it has been contextualized. While laughter takes the lead, the festival does not turn a blind eye to the horrors of Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, and Iran. The programming strikes a delicate, high-wire balance between the absurdity of life and the brutality of war. The Palestinian feature With Hasan in Gaza by Kamal Aljafari and the Lebanese Tales of the Wounded Land by Abbas Fahdel stand as testaments to cinema’s duty to witness history.

However, the absence of Russian and Ukrainian films in the main lineup speaks volumes about the current geopolitical minefield. Locarno grapples with what Nazzaro terms "humanitarian impotence," using the screen to amplify voices from the world's most fractured regions. By placing these harrowing stories alongside anarchic comedies, the festival creates a jarring, necessary tension. It forces the audience to acknowledge that in 2025, horror and humor are uncomfortable bedfellows living under the same roof.