The 2026 Brooklyn Film Festival Animation Program

By William J. Hammon

Animation may be the highest form of cinematic art, limited only by imagination and the talents of those inspired to create. Every year, it is my distinct honor to cover the Animation Program at the Brooklyn Film Festival, a celebration of the vast spectrum of storytelling and style. It’s a shame that BFF isn’t an Academy qualifying festival, because the shorts on display here deserve to be considered in equal measure with all the other major animation showcases, evidenced by previous winner My Year of Dicks taking the top prize in Brooklyn before going on to win other festivals and eventually be nominated for the Oscar.

This year, 24 films got their moment in the spotlight, running the gamut from the sweet and silly to the serious and cerebral, with a very diverse display of artistic techniques. Here are my personal favorites, in no particular order.

Memory Jar

Directed by Ruel Pascual, who normally works as a video game animator for a AAA studio, Memory Jar is an expert and profound look at how, as my mother used to say, “life gets in the way.” Taking place almost entirely within a surrealist, Salvador Dali-esque open space with a few appointments around the frame, a father works endlessly, too busy to spend time with his children. Things change, however, when one of the kids gives him a jar filled with sticky notes, each one containing a note on a happy memory the young ones had with him, whether it’s playing in the yard, going on a hike, or picking fruit. This inspires the father to devote more time to his family, which in turn inspires him in his work.

This is absolutely tremendous, and a heartwarming look at how we can all lose sight of the things that matter most, regardless of our intentions. So many of us work ourselves to exhaustion (or worse) in pursuit of the financial security to properly raise a family, often at the expense of the time we want to spend with them. It’s a sad catch-22 of our society, and Pascual illustrates it beautifully. The story was inspired by a jar his own daughter gave to him, and it’s a gift I hope to be worthy of someday, even though I don’t yet have a family of my own.

Just One Peek

There were several films at this year’s festival dealing with our collective addiction to technology and screens, and Mulan Fu’s Just One Peek is the best of the bunch. In the short space of just five minutes, she takes us on an absurd, funny, and darkly poignant journey about how attention becomes its own drug.

Our unnamed protagonist attempts to set down her phone and relax for the evening, only to be sucked in by its bright allure. Before you know it, she’s gone down a rabbit hole of doomscrolling, cute cat videos, and body shaming. Every time she tries to extricate herself, she’s pulled deeper into the abyss. The swirling maelstrom of content is incredibly rendered, leaving a lasting impression that so much online engagement lacks by design.

An excellent look at how grief can come to define us, Death’s Peak is an extreme but heartfelt endeavor that realizes the full potential of its premise. A depressed man named David (voiced by Simon Pavelich) begins the film by digging up the corpse of his late brother, chatting to him as if he’s catching up with a friend he hasn’t seen in a while. Clearly unwell and at his lowest as a person, it’s evident that David simply never got over his brother’s death, and has been in a state of arrested development ever since. This horrific action is meant to change all that, as he drags the body in a wagon all the way up the titular mountain, intending to ride down it at breakneck speed like they did when they were children. Either David will survive and have a renewed lease on life, or he’ll perish and join his brother in the afterlife, with both outcomes not only plausible, but acceptable in our protagonist’s eyes.

The film is made in stop-motion with highly expressive figures. The rotting brother is distinctly impressive, like something out of a Tim Burton film, sporting decayed blue skin and an unintentionally sly grin. David, by contrast, is clearly at the end of his rope, and his design shows it in every frame. You don’t need him to say a single word to know that things continue to get worse for him every day, because you can see it on his face. That said, the one-sided dialogue is pretty spectacular, the perfect balance of mourning and playful trash talk that anyone would recognize as true familial love. By the time the wagon starts rolling, the end result almost doesn’t matter, because the moment will be triumphant either way.

Ball Lightning

This one hit me hard. Using simple watercolors and thin outlines, director Trina Baker creates a deeply personal tale about love and resilience that’s very likely to leave you in a puddle of tears. Based on her own childhood memories, Baker narrates the story of a summer spent at her grandmother’s house, where she was cared for by Gusta, a live-in housekeeper and companion, who had immigrated to the U.S. from Soviet East Germany after World War II. Gusta is soft and accommodating, a stark contrast to Baker’s stern grandma, but they complement each other quite well. It’s when the viewer learns why that the story becomes both tragic and inspiring.

See, Gusta had to give up her own daughter for adoption in order to survive before she fled to America, and the young Trina gives her a chance to be the mother she never got to be. Their interactions are lovely and heartfelt, and you can see the impact Gusta had on Trina’s life in every scene, teaching her an appreciation for all the gifts of life, while still dealing with her own pain and continuing to endure. The conclusion of this tale is gut-wrenching, but poetic, and it’s stuck with me ever since I first saw the picture.

The Beast of the Seine

This one is just a ton of fun, the best kind of family-friendly silliness. You’d see something like this on Nickelodeon or a Saturday morning cartoon block back in the day. If this goes on to win a qualifying festival, it could easily get nominated, as Academy voters love this kind of story, as well the charmingly “off” character models.

Based on real events from 1908, the film concerns a curious incident in Paris, where a dog belonging to a poor street mime became a local celebrity when he rescued a child who had fallen into the Seine river. Everyone loves the pooch, and the local butcher gives him a big, juicy steak as a reward. He’s called into action several more times, as a mysterious prowler has been spotted pushing kids into the river, but one can get a good look at them. While the resolution is predictable, even if you haven’t read the story, the way it’s depicted here is immaculate. The dog’s design in particular is just darling. In a lot of ways, this feels like a throwback to classic 80s and 90s animation, and it’ll definitely put a smile on your face.

Tuna Tartare

Sometimes, you just have to embrace the weird, and Tuna Tartare is a perfect example. This absolutely bonkers post-apocalyptic “musical” sees director Lena Greene showing off her skills with incredibly strange designs and an even stranger story. In the distant future, humanity is all but extinct, with various bits of trash and other refuse evolving into sentient beings. Our protagonist, an anthropomorphized can of tuna, runs a karaoke bar where she gets to show off, as she puts it, “a voice as big as my tits!” If you’re not instantly on board by that point, I don’t know what to tell you. I for one was completely hooked.

The story, told in an absurdist and grotesque style reminiscent of Ugly Americans and Superjail!, boils down to a universally human experience, however: that of self-love and personal acceptance. Tuna has a friend named Susan, a knock-off luxury handbag, who lacks self-esteem, and Tuna herself is mocked for a cringeworthy “hit” song she once released about an affair she had in her youth. It. Is. SPECTACULAR! Seriously, I kind of want to see someone cosplay as Tuna on RuPaul’s Drag Race next season. This is exactly what I’m talking about when I praise the unbound creativity of the artists in this competition. I mean, a fabulous tuna can who lives her best life through the mantra, “Be yourself… but HOTTER!”? I mean, who thinks of that? Well, Lena Greene does, and so do all the others who gave us a look into their methods and madness. This is why the BFF Animation Program is often the highlight of my film calendar!