One Summer Day, I Drank Bubble Tea

If you’re an Iranian filmmaker, you’re sure to make it into film festivals. If you’re a Burmese filmmaker, chances are you’ll be on the festival radar, too. It doesn’t matter how good or bad your film is. Two directors reflect on privilege and cynicism, all while trying to maintain a clear conscience. The two reflect: am I being noticed for my work, or because of my country’s political situation? Do you see yourself as an artist or a political activist? Is this nothing but a safari of opportunities that someone still dares to call the film industry?

Most likely, this film would be selected for a festival by Panâhi himself. A conversation between two friends — Sun, a Burmese filmmaker, and an unnamed Iranian — turns into a volley of ideas and paradoxes. It’s hard to say what sparks more laughter: the fact that Sun calmly sips bubble tea at the foot of the Basilica of the Sacred Heart in Montmartre, or that his film, which comments on festivals as largely political events, has ended up in yet another festival. While this film is on its way to being selected for the next festival, the two friends don’t hesitate to remind us that their homelands are in flames.