"You Can't Replicate a Reality": Sophy Romvari Discusses Blue Heron

      To be completely transparent: "Blue Heron" significantly establishes itself as one of the best films of 2026 (and arguably 2025, considering its premiere timeline), making my decade-long friendship with writer-director Sophy Romvari irrelevant to disclose. The recognition of the Canadian director isn't confined to just a few; those who have encountered her during a lengthy press tour that kicked off with her award-winning debut at Locarno will likely share the same sentiment. While many filmmakers can be visible through social media or industry events, Romvari has consistently distinguished herself from younger contemporaries through sheer talent. It's particularly notable that she has garnered such admiration through her short films—a medium that often escapes sustained interest or acclaim, especially in the context of comprehensive retrospectives on platforms like the Criterion Channel within a decade of one’s career.

      "Blue Heron" embodies a complex sense of hope: Romvari transitions into feature filmmaking, an arena notorious for its potential pitfalls and rejections. As a long-time admirer, I am even more captivated by this film, which can be viewed as a kind of expansion on her 2020 short "Still Processing." Yet, it boldly steps into narrative cinema, captured through outstanding cinematography, performances, editing, and sound work that exceeded my expectations. (This experience does not capture the emotional turmoil that fluctuates between universal suffering and harrowing specifics.) Viewers unfamiliar with Romvari will recognize a significant new talent; those aware of her brilliance have now received validation.

      Romvari and I met at Criterion’s office for a discussion that I worry only grazes the surface of what "Blue Heron" has accomplished.

      The Film Stage: You're about to do your closet video soon.

      Sophy Romvari: Yes, shortly.

      How are you feeling about it?

      I’m excited but also a bit anxious because it can unfold in so many different ways. I'm trying not to overthink it; I prefer to be unprepared.

      So you haven't predetermined which films you'll comment on?

      I glanced at the collection to familiarize myself with it. There were some films I thought would be included, but they weren’t, so it was helpful. I wasn’t considering licensing issues, so I thought, “Oh, I’ll grab a Minnelli.” But they probably don’t have those MGM films for licensing reasons. I’m glad I won't be saying, “Oh, don’t you have that?” [Laughs]

      They can edit that part out. Anyway, I watched the film here last week, which was nice. I could have asked for a screener link, but I was pretty intent on seeing it in a theater because I think I’ve watched nearly all your films on a laptop.

      That makes sense.

      Wasn’t there a time when your films were described as “women alone on their laptops”? I appreciated your work as a man sitting alone on my laptop observing a woman by herself, but I sensed this was—if you’ll allow me to say—an advancement.

      Absolutely.

      It seemed intentional that the film's first line of dialogue addressed memory just as the logo for the company Memory appears. Even as the logo fades, its imprint lingers onscreen. I assume it was initially written without a production company involved, though…?

      Correct. It was one of those beautiful coincidences, and I love that their company’s name is Memory—it aligns well with the film's themes. And the logo has this burn-in effect before it fades. I advocated for that logo to be last in the EP rollout to sync it with her discussion on memory. So you caught all those details. [Laughs]

      Sophy Romvari at the 2025 Locarno Film Festival.

      You've likely heard this enough, but the locations are breathtaking. Just days before seeing "Blue Heron," I rewatched Ozu’s "Late Autumn," so I started connecting your exterior shots to Ozu’s use of them for resetting the viewer while also deepening the characters' emotional states. They intervene in a particularly unique way.

      Absolutely, the geography of Vancouver—and specifically Vancouver Island, where all the exteriors were filmed—was very significant for me to portray. I feel it offers a unique landscape that, for some reason, I hadn't seen represented in film before. The amalgamation of mountains, ocean, and forest all within close proximity is incredibly beautiful. Additionally, my parents are immigrants from Hungary, where they grew up in a landlocked country. They were always drawn to the ocean. I believe that setting the film on an island and depicting the ocean's vastness against the characters’ emotional struggles encapsulates the metaphorical weight of what they’re facing.

      So it’s not merely about visually appealing scenes; it's about contrasting that beauty with their internal chaos. Plus, it was a pleasure to film in those locations. [Laughs] Fortunately, Vancouver Island isn't overrun with indie filmmakers, so the locals welcomed us warmly, and the beaches weren’t crowded either