Blogpost by Dr. Andra-Octavia Drăghiciu AKE DIKHEA? 2025

Stories of women, of men, family, love and loss — human stories — all Romani, either by way of the protagonists, the filmmakers or both.

The Welsh-Romani producer and director Lisa Smith, whom I explicitly mention not just (but also) because she’s my colleague and has curated past editions of Ake Dikhea, had no less than four short films showcased in the festival. “A Basket Full of Eggs”, “Romany”, “The Angry Bird”, and the special mention of the jury “The Earth Beneath Margret’s Feet” give voice to various Romani women from the UK and their unique stories, breaking with stereotypical representations in mainstream films and TV. “Dajori”, the short film competition winner “El Regalo”, and “Grandmother, Mother, Me” also tell intersectional female stories from the Czech Republic, Spain and Sweden, addressing issues like daily racism and transgenerational trauma.

That trauma and mental health are not just female, but also very much male topics, was addressed by “That Boy” and “Reaching for the Rope”. The first explored the issue through a disarming conversation between Toby Gorniak, a Romani man from Poland who was beaten up by Neo-Nazis at the age of 11, and a former Polish Neo-Nazi, who, even though he claims to regret his violent youth, refuses to cover up his swastika tattoo; the second examined the alarming suicide rates among Traveller men in the UK through a journalistic inquiry. 

Further explored topics include the Holocaust and the deep wounds it left among Sinti and Roma in Germany and the Netherlands (“Wesley Schwimmt”, “Where the Lupin Once Bloomed”), the struggles of everyday life of the Dom, Abdal, and Romani people in Türkiye (“Missed Lives – The Dom People”, festival winner), the efforts of a Romani community in Kosovo to find a space of their own (“Horo Ano Boro/Dance in the Courtyard”) as well as a story of lost love (“Let’s Call It Love”).

This wide array of films stands as a testimony to the diversity of Romani communities throughout Europe, as well as to the heterogeneity of identities within these communities. It also highlights the most poignant and frightening common denominator: the stigma that Romani people endure in every society they are part of, and the discrimination and persecution they experience, both past and present. At the same time, the films underline the resilience of their protagonists, their coping mechanisms, the solidarity and agency in the face of structural antigypsyism. 

Of the films screened at the festival, one stands out in particular — negatively, if you ask me: “Chaplin. Spirit of the Tramp”. The title should give you an idea of why I don’t particularly like this one…

But, as the title may just be ironic (if only!) or clickbait, let’s take a look at the description of the film on the festival website:

“In her feature-length debut, Carmen Chaplin, great-granddaughter of the world-famous Charles Chaplin, tells the story of her own family origins and traditions. Through exclusive interviews and previously untouched archival documents from the Chaplin estate, the film brings the cultural Roma heritage of the “Great Dictator” to light for the first time. Intimate conversations, film clips, family recordings, and contributions from contemporary Roma artists bring us closer to what few people knew before, even though it is so obvious.” 

The only thing that’s obvious (to me, at least), is that the Chaplins took the stereotypical romanticized and exoticized figure of the “gypsy” that they grew up reading about and watching in films, and projected it onto their father/grandfather/great-grandfather. Chaplin had “gypsy blood”, apparently, one full eighth of it! For his children, this explains why he was a brilliant eccentric, a humanist, and a cultural Robin Hood, always on the side of the underdog. What they fail to mention, however, is what he actually did for said “underdog”, except hand out some pennies to a group of “gypsies” (a term they love to use, btw.) every time he drove past them while visiting in Ireland. In the film, the “cultural Roma heritage” mentioned in the paratext actually translates as mysterious blood lines and family trees. 

I’m not even going to spell out what drawing conclusions about a person based on their “blood” reminds me of…

The cherry on top is, of course, the interview with Emir Kusturica, the infamous Serbian director who contributed massively to the worldwide spread of the highly problematic “gypsy figure” (that’s probably where the Chaplins get their transfigured images from). Hell, even Toni Gatlif’s commentary plays into the narrative of the movie — something in the lines of “Les gitans sont comme ci, les gitans font comme ça…”, reducing Romani identities to DNA. And that’s a problem.

Antigypsyism, like all other forms of racism, feeds off the false assumption that all people who are perceived to be representatives of a certain group share the same (mostly negative) characteristics. Individuals are thus denied their singularity and perceived as homogenous members of a group while at the same time being reduced to a romanticized or unflattering essence.

Building on a centuries-old artistic tradition, film — and filmmakers such as Kusturica — has been profiting from antigypsyism for decades, creating characters and stories claiming to be inspired by real-life people or ethnicities. It has (re)produced “gypsy” figures as thieves, charlatans, but also free-roaming romantic vagabonds (or tramps, if you will – wink wink), as outcasts who refuse to obey the rules of bourgeois society. Using specific techniques such as “authenticity” or ethnographic perspectives, filmmakers have projected their phantasies onto real, existing people, who, as a consequence, are reduced to the characteristics of those fictional figures in the mind of dominant society, experiencing stigma and discrimination. 

“Chaplin” ticks many of these boxes, projecting the romanticized “gypsy” figure onto a person and instrumentalizing it to spice up the lives of Charlie Chaplin’s descendants, who went to private schools and grew up in huge mansions. Choosing to present their father and themselves as having “gypsy blood” feels like a gimmick that provides the film with a more “interesting” and “exotic” twist. 

If the film is so bad, why did they show it at a Romani film festival, you ask, and how come it was met with such enthusiasm by many Sinti, Roma and Travellers alike?  

My guess is that, on the one hand, centuries of negative media representation have left people in dire need of heroes and positive examples. Having the chance to claim a person of this caliber conveys a sense of self-respect and self-assurance. To be fair, it also draws attention to the topic and opens the conversation. 

On the other hand, the choice of films with Romani representation is relatively scarce. Due to structural antigypsyism within the film industry, there aren’t many suitable films to choose from. From what I gather from its trailer, however, Toni Gatlif’s “Ange” might have been a good alternative. If nothing else, at least it’s the work of a consecrated Romani director. 

To conclude, if we ignore this year’s opening film, the value of Ake Dikhea lies in what I’ve stressed at the beginning of this text: the showcasing of intense, intersectional, and individual Romani stories. This festival has brought together Romani representations from all over Europe and beyond, giving them a platform to unfold. It is an important pillar of Romani film and sends a valuable message to the film industry: Romani filmmakers are here, their stories are human and therefore both relatable and unique.

You don’t have to believe me, just come take a look and you’ll see — next year at the 10^th edition, hopefully.