Annecy: The Cannes of animation.

There has been a long-standing push to eliminate the animation category at the Oscars because the industry wants animated films to be considered on the same level as live-action films—something that has only happened three times, with *Beauty and the Beast*, *Toy Story*, and *Up*.

If this category were to disappear, just like the documentary category, to merge all films into a single one, we would also be losing the visibility of other works that would get lost in that massive tangle we sometimes—rather poorly—call “content,” where it’s impossible to see everything.

What we want to advocate for is animation not as a separate genre but as a language in its own right, as a narrative and a way of conveying ideas or stories, with the same or greater power than fiction.

This is where ANNECY fulfills its role as a showcase for the industry and the talent involved in the various processes of animation.

Making a living from animation.

While actors bring their characters to life, animators are the true creators and architects of this process. It’s even more difficult, if that’s possible.

Arriving in Annecy as a creator is magical. It’s like arriving in the village of Arendelle we saw in Frozen, where the mountains and the lake welcome us. For a moment, that village—which already possesses its own magic—becomes a fairy tale from which stories are born. 

Then you understand it all: Animation is language.

The Annecy International Animation Film Festival is not just the world’s most important event dedicated to animation. It is a creative, industrial, and cultural ecosystem where—every year—the direction of one of the most influential narrative forms is defined in a unique setting.

To understand Annecy, we must go back to 1960. At a time when animation was still considered a minor discipline compared to live-action film, the need arose to create a dedicated space for this art form.

That is how the festival was born, initially linked to the International Animation Film Festival. Over the decades, Annecy not only survived—it became the definitive benchmark.

Today, talking about animation on a global scale inevitably means talking about Annecy, because animated film must stop asking permission to exist. Animation is cinema.

🎬 More than a festival

Reducing Annecy to screenings would be a mistake. The festival operates on two inseparable dimensions:

🎥 The festival: where short films, feature films, series, student projects, and experimental works are screened, along with press conferences and presentations.

💼 MIFA (Marché International du Film d’Animation): the market where the future of global animation is negotiated and everything to come in the coming months is forged.

Here, deals are closed, co-productions are born, talents are discovered, and careers are built. Not being in Annecy when we talk about animation means being left out of the conversation.

A festival that takes place in a setting that seems small but where the most important events of the year converge—not to compete, but to foster and create synergies.

Major studios like Pixar, Disney, and Netflix Animation present previews, while independent creators share the stage with students, making Annecy a unique venue where you can see the latest trends in animation alongside the very people who are creating them.

As with other festivals, Annecy becomes a hub for instant networking. Every café, every line to get into screenings, turns into a chat among colleagues, so you’ll find students with their folders full of “dreams” and their portfolios, platform executives, directors or teams presenting their first work, and more experienced teams showcasing their latest projects. 

Animation as a Contemporary Language

The debate remains open within the festival because we continue to challenge the notion that animated film is a genre for children, a secondary or trivial form of entertainment.

Animation has always been used—and we might say since the dawn of time, with drawings in early taverns—as autobiography, political commentary, documentary narrative, or visual experience.

Just as more traditional fiction with actors does, animation explores trauma, historical memory, identity, and war conflicts, giving them a unique dimension. With layers, as Shrek would say.

A form of creation that currently achieves this by blending techniques such as 2D, 3D, stop motion, and rotoscoping to innovate.

This means we move between more experimental works with no commercial ambitions and blockbuster productions with multi-million-dollar budgets, ready to delight audiences.

💼 The Industry: Where the Future Is Built

MIFA is likely one of the most important venues in the global animation industry.

Here, the following are negotiated:

-series for streaming platforms

-international co-productions

-distribution

-funding for independent projects

The hallways function as an extension of the meeting rooms. Everything is conversation, exchange, possibility.

Discussions that address concerns about globalization and platforms where we face content saturation, pressure from major studios, the desire to escape aesthetic standardization, and how new technologies are impacting the creative field—specifically, artificial intelligence.

When a festival ends, we return to reality. One day, during an interview, I was talking with an actress about that strange feeling of coming home and going grocery shopping. That sense of everyday life—because one day you’re in Venice with Al Pacino, or in her case, premiering a film in Los Angeles, and the next we’re there, picking up hummus from the shelves at the local supermarket. (The actress was María Caballero; you can find the interview on the YouTube channel.)

When Annecy ends, the city returns to its usual rhythm; the lake remains there, with its inhabitants and mountains reflecting in its waters as they have for thousands of years. Nothing has changed—or perhaps everything has—because those who were there, at the port of Albigny, have seen the future.

And in this world now saturated with images and hyperconnectivity, glued to our screens, meeting in person at festivals is no small thing.

Walking through MIFA (Marché International du Film d’Animation) is realizing that animation no longer seeks permission to sit at the “grown-ups’” table. With 6,550 professionals touring the booths at the Impérial Palace, the atmosphere this year has been marked by a palpable tension: What do we do with artificial intelligence?

Something that carries a sense of protest.

Annecy—we’ll never tire of calling it a “fairytale town”—is that Alpine city in southeastern France that brings together more than 18,000 attendees from over 118 countries; it’s the epicenter of what is arguably the industry with the most potential today.

The debate isn’t about opposing a tool, but rather about the importance of preserving human capital.

ARCANE (currently on Netflix) sparked interest in animation by attracting more than 23,000 fans with an exclusive immersive exhibition of the acclaimed series from Riot Games and Fortiche Productions, which highlighted the behind-the-scenes team and offered free admission throughout 2025. 

In this latest edition, we saw stop-motion animation in *Olivia and the Invisible Earthquake*, where the texture of the material conveys the story of childhood trauma, and we saw 2D and 3D combined in a hybrid form.

China also released *My Nezha*, which went on to become a global box office hit while remaining true to its traditional and mythological roots. 

Joining these new voices is *Arco*, which reminds us how animation can give voice to stories that live-action film cannot fully capture. 

*Arco*, Ugo Bienvenu’s film that won the Crystal Award for Best Feature Film, is a testament to this “new voice”: a vibrant and philosophical exploration of human fragility in a technological future.

In 2025, something truly amazing happened: Afghanistan participated for the first time, and alongside other countries like Mexico and Chile, they shared stories that addressed issues such as missing persons, oppression, and exile.

As Mexican director Aria Covamonas (honored posthumously) once said: “Animation isn’t a genre for children; it’s a tool to help adults remember how to feel.”

As the sun sets, the audience gathers at Le Pâquier to watch the free screenings on the giant screen from the grass.

That’s when the magic happens: thousands of little paper airplanes fly over the heads of the attendees, showcasing the festival’s most playful tradition.

María Abad

Cultural critic and audiovisual columnist

Specializing in film and the creative industry