[Pictured: a still from Amanda Strong’s “Inkwo for When the Starving Return,” which is playing in the Animated Short Film Program at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival]
By Lucy Spicer
One of the most exciting things about the Sundance Film Festival is having a front-row seat for the bright future of independent filmmaking. While we can learn a lot about the filmmakers from the 2025 Sundance Film Festival through the art that these storytellers share with us, there’s always more we can learn about them as people. We decided to get to the bottom of those artistic wells with our ongoing series: Give Me the Backstory!
Storytellers who take on the medium of short film have to be prepared to work within certain constraints, the biggest of which are run time and budget. Approaching a project with the hope that your audience will see your vision is daunting to say the least, but the Indigenous artists with short films at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival demonstrate that embracing community and fearless creativity can create a world on-screen that will capture the audience’s attention in a matter of minutes.
Three of these Indigenous filmmakers — Roberto Fatal (En Memoria), Amanda Strong (Inkwo for When the Starving Return), and Loren Waters (Tiger) — share the inspiration behind the stories they’re screening at the 2025 Fest below. Their short films span three programs and include one fiction short, one stop-motion animated short, and one documentary short, shining a light on the versatility of the medium and the ability of short-form filmmaking to make a big impact.
Through these projects, the filmmakers — two of whom were supported by Sundance Institute’s Indigenous Program — explore themes that include intersecting identities, connections to the land, and the resilience of hope in community. Read on to learn more about these Indigenous artists and their short films at the 2025 Fest, all three of which will be available to watch online with the Shorts Pass: Online.
What was the biggest inspiration behind this film?
Roberto Fatal (En Memoria): This film was inspired by my current struggles with student debt and how debt and American education historically intersects in violent and powerful ways with my queer, trans, Indigenous, and Mexican American communities.
Amanda Strong (Inkwo for When the Starving Return): This story comes from Tlicho Dene author Richard Van Camp. Eight years ago, I read his short story “Wheetago War.” Once I put it down, I knew I was committed to bringing it into the world of stop-motion animation. I believed in its message and the time needed to tell the story in the right way with an incredible team.
Creatively speaking, I am inspired by many of the stop-motion feature films that have smooth and seamless facial animation and dialogue for their puppets. I have been unable to access this in my previous works. I was fortunate to meet Georgina Hayns while she was giving a talk in Vancouver. She is a world-renowned puppet maker who guided me and our team in many ways, but most notably paired us with Patrick Zung and Standing Figure, who were the creative and technical force behind the character Dove’s puppet and head mechanic, along with the rest of our puppet cast.
Loren Waters (Tiger): The biggest inspiration behind Tiger was Dana Tiger herself. Dana’s remarkable ability to tell stories, weaving vivid details with an infectious enthusiasm, was a driving force for this film. Every time she recounts a memory, it feels fresh and alive, as though she’s sharing it for the very first time. She has a gift for pulling audiences into the past, painting a rich tapestry of history, emotion, and culture.
What makes Dana truly extraordinary is her unwavering happiness and vibrancy, despite enduring profound trauma. She has faced challenges that would have broken many, yet she continues to radiate joy, resilience, and a deep connection to her family’s legacy. Her strength and optimism are captivating and serve as a testament to the enduring power of art, culture, and community.
This film is a tribute to Dana’s life and her family’s incredible journey. It seeks to honor not only their legacy of artistic innovation but also their resilience in the face of adversity. By telling her story, I hope to celebrate the vibrancy of her life, commemorate her family, and inspire others with the depth of her wisdom, warmth, and strength.
Films are lasting artistic legacies; what do you want yours to say?
Strong: The film may create meaningful dialogue around the culture of greed and mass resource extraction that affects the land, beings, and water. It can also act as a vessel of hope for the future. It is a call to action, intended to reflect on our roles today and the choices we have as we witness the gift and collective weight of returning to medicine, language, and connection with the land. The choice of a hyperrealistic, handmade miniature world is to feel the beauty of the land and the power of our lead character, Dove, as they battle the starving army. As an Indigenous storyteller in the digital era, my aim in this battle is to tell stories in nonlinear modes that champion our languages, cultures, and lands.
Waters: Films are lasting artistic legacies, and with Tiger, I want ours to convey a powerful message: Creation doesn’t require perfection; it requires intention.
This film wasn’t born out of a grand plan or a well-funded vision — it was born out of a desire to tell a story that demanded to be told. We had no money, no road map, but we had purpose. The story chose us, and we leaned into it with all the heart and authenticity we could muster.
I want this film to stand as a beacon of hope, showing that even in the face of adversity, we can embrace life with positivity and resilience. It’s a reminder that joy and vibrancy can coexist with trauma and that every story has the potential to uplift and heal.
For other filmmakers, I want this film to inspire courage. You don’t need all the resources in the world to create something meaningful. If you believe deeply in your story and approach it with care, honesty, and intention, you can create something beautiful and impactful. Let this film be a testament to the fact that sometimes, the most unexpected and unplanned creations can leave the most lasting legacies.
Describe who you want this film to reach.
Fatal: This film is for those of us who are currently struggling or targeted in our society: queer and trans people, people of color, and immigrants. I want those who are struggling to see past the darkness many of us are currently experiencing to find resilience and strength in our communities, our histories, and each other. That is the story at the heart of this film.
Strong: This film is for most audiences (maybe not preschool or young children yet). Though at its core the story hails from author Richard Van Camp and is made for the Dene communities in the Northwest Territories, I believe there are relatable, universal threads for broader viewership. Sometimes, animation is relegated to a specific crowd or age range, but for me it is meant to feel cinematic and driven by a collaborative artistic vision.
Waters: I want this film to reach a wide and diverse audience, with a special emphasis on those who can see a part of themselves in Dana’s story.
Indigenous communities: To celebrate our resilience, amplify our voices, and honor the rich legacy of Native art and culture. Dana’s journey is a testament to the strength and creativity within Indian Country, and I hope it inspires pride and connection.
Artists: To remind them that art is not just a craft but a means of healing, storytelling, and preserving history. Dana’s commitment to her work, despite immense challenges, is a powerful example of art as a transformative force.
Young people: To show that even in the face of adversity, life is full of hope and possibilities. Dana’s unwavering positivity and ability to overcome grief and obstacles can inspire the next generation to persevere and dream big.
People who have dealt with grief: Dana’s story is one of loss but also of healing and resilience. It’s a reminder that while grief shapes us, it doesn’t have to define us, and we can find joy and purpose again.
Those struggling with Parkinson’s or other challenges: Dana’s determination to continue her work and live vibrantly despite her Parkinson’s diagnosis is a beacon of hope for those facing their own battles. Her story highlights the power of perseverance and the importance of leaning on family and community.
Ultimately, I want this film to resonate with anyone who believes in the power of resilience, community, and storytelling to inspire change and healing.
Tell us an anecdote about casting or working with your actors.
Fatal: As filmmakers, we prioritize crew and actor safety. This includes on-call therapists and taking needs and accessibility assessments of everyone working on the film. Both actors asked for a quiet space to retreat in between scenes. We shot the film in our home and turned our writer-producer Ali’s bedroom into an actor retreat/cat petting room. Both of our actors raved about how safe and sweet it was to have two kitties to pet in between takes of particularly emotionally grueling shots.
Your favorite part of making the film? Memories from the process?
Strong: Stop-motion animation is generally a slow-process medium, and in many cases it can take years to complete a project. This film took eight years from script to completion. (Some of those years were not full-time and/or were affected by a global health crisis and personal time.) For most of the process, things will feel very rough and incomplete, making it hard to see what the final work will be. The most exciting moments are when thousands of labor-intensive pieces start to come together and you see moving frames. It’s exciting to see the animation move for the first time. But even then, the footage is raw and still needs a lot of work to become a complete story and finished product. There’s no better moment than when the shots are finished and become intertwined with the sound, and you first get to hear and feel everything together.
I felt incredibly fortunate that our team and esteemed collaborators took our project and its content sensitivity to a level beyond our expectations. They worked closely with our team, Indigenous creators, and Elders to ensure that every detail honored the material, which is not always achieved in production. We were proud to create fully functioning puppets with a single silicone skin for a gender-fluid Indigenous character. The eyelid and blinking technology we developed surpassed even that of the largest feature films.
Additionally, we all were thrilled to enhance our 3D and software integration to create completed environments and sets that paired seamlessly with the stop-motion footage. The entire experience of making the film was a learning journey, leading to exciting, innovative processes and outcomes that we believe are just as important to share with the world as the film itself.
Waters: My favorite part of making Tiger was the serendipity and connection that defined the process. One of the most unforgettable memories was when my partner, Robert L. Hunter — the film’s director of photography — and I decided to visit Dana at her art gallery on a whim. We had no set plan, only the desire to create something meaningful. When we arrived, Dana and her son were screen printing for the first time since 1990. It was an incredible moment of alignment, as if the universe was telling us that this story was ready to be shared. Witnessing that moment, after decades of inactivity, felt like magic — we knew we were exactly where we were meant to be.
Another favorite memory is when Dana gifted me my very first vintage Tiger tee from the 1980s. It was such a meaningful gesture and a tangible piece of history that connected me to her family’s legacy. After that, Robert and I became obsessed with finding more Tiger tees online, and now we have an entire collection.
The whole process of making this film felt like stepping into something bigger than ourselves — an unplanned but beautifully intentional journey of storytelling, creativity, and connection.
What was a big challenge you faced while making this film?
Waters: A significant challenge we faced while making Tiger was having no budget to compensate our collaborators. Aside from a small artist grant, the project was entirely self-funded. While this financial constraint was difficult, it also became a kind of liberation.
Without outside funding or stakeholders, we had complete creative freedom. There were no higher-ups to approve decisions or leave notes on the film. We relied solely on our instincts and the trust we built with our collaborators. This autonomy allowed us to lean into the story authentically and tell it the way it needed to be told.
Additionally, we were fortunate to work with incredible editors who shared our vision and brought their talents to the table to help us shape the film. Despite the challenges, this experience reinforced the power of intention and resourcefulness in filmmaking. It showed us that with passion and collaboration, we could overcome obstacles and create something meaningful.
Why does this story need to be told now?
Fatal: In 2023, over 40 million Americans were shackled by student debt. It is one of the most brutal forms of debt in American society with little — if any — relief leaving millions crippled financially. This can affect families and communities for generations. This movie is for those people, like me, who dared to dream of something more and were harmed in that process. When I was young, my dad, a first-generation Mexican American, told me that education was the key to upward mobility, knowledge, and a good life. Many immigrants share this dream. Now, as education puts so many of our communities into crippling debt, we are often never able to catch up with the promise of education. I want this story to acknowledge the pain this crisis causes, to expose those who would exploit this pain for their financial gain, and offer an image of hope past what seems like an inescapable fate.
Strong: If we look at the world right now, there are literal and figurative monsters guided by greed and sitting in positions of power. Globally, many communities can resonate with the battle against this force. These personal and collective challenges weigh heavily, but there is assurance in returning to and reconnecting with the land, our teachings, and our medicines to combat the threats we collectively face. This story is about the struggle to summon courage and determination in the face of a seemingly insurmountable nightmare.
Waters: This story needs to be told now because it is a powerful reminder of resilience, cultural preservation, and the enduring legacy of Indigenous art. Dana Tiger’s journey to revitalize the Tiger T-shirt company is not just about reclaiming her family’s artistic tradition but also about reclaiming space for Indigenous stories in the broader narrative of creativity and entrepreneurship.
In a time when Indigenous communities are fighting to preserve their culture and challenge stereotypes, Tiger shines a light on the importance of art as both a form of resistance and healing. Dana’s story also resonates on a deeply human level, touching on themes of grief, perseverance, and the transformative power of family and community.
The resurgence of the Tiger tees is more than a nostalgic return; it’s a statement of strength and renewal. This story celebrates the past while inspiring future generations to embrace their creativity, overcome obstacles, and carry forward their cultural traditions.
With issues like representation, equity, and cultural revitalization at the forefront of societal conversations, this film is a timely and vital contribution to the dialogue. It’s a story of hope, creativity, and the unyielding spirit of a family and a community that refuses to let their legacy fade.
Tell us why and how you got into filmmaking.
Fatal: As a young, mixed Indigenous Latine, Queer, nonbinary film nerd, I rarely — if ever — saw people like me in the sci-fi films I loved so much — stories that promised a glimpse at our collective future, for better or worse. I believe storytelling to be powerful medicine in our society, and, to me, the absence of my communities in sci-fi told me that our place in the future was not guaranteed. That is bad medicine. I wanted to make stories that countered our invisibility by centering us as heroes and protagonists in science fiction and genre films.
Strong: I’d originally planned on studying kinesiology or naturopathic medicine. I was actively involved in sports at the time, and I was drawn to the study of body mechanics. At the time I was planning for post-secondary studies, I discovered my late grandfather’s old analog cameras, which sparked a connection to capturing images and an instant pivot in my path. This led to my post-secondary study of photography, followed by film school rejection and an illustration degree. I was later offered a chance to apply to the program I was rejected for, but decided it was time to learn outside of the school setting.
I fell in love with stop-motion animation, as it carried the basics of my starting connection with the camera and frame-by-frame capture. Paired with my illustration training, I dreamed of working with a collective of artists and art forms to come together to build worlds and make stories move. Through trial and error, mistakes, and many hardships, I learned and kept dreaming bigger and merging with like-minded talents who were up to the challenges and believed in the stories I was trying to tell.
Waters: Filmmaking wasn’t something I actively pursued — it found me. While studying environmental studies at the University of Oklahoma, one of my professors invited me to produce two short documentaries with her. I had no idea what I was doing at the time, but I dove in headfirst and learned from another Native film student on the project. That experience became a stepping stone, leading to an internship on a documentary TV show after graduation.
My journey took a pivotal turn when I began working at a production company in Tulsa founded by Sterlin Harjo, the creator of the hit [TV] show Reservation Dogs. One night, a group of us went out, and Sterlin offered to put my résumé in for a production assistant job on the first season of Reservation Dogs. That opportunity completely changed my life.
From there, I began directing my own films, finding my voice and passion as a filmmaker. Tiger is my third short documentary as an independent director, and it reflects everything I’ve learned along the way. Looking back, it feels like every step — whether intentional or not — has led me to exactly where I’m meant to be. Filmmaking has given me the platform to amplify stories that matter, celebrate my community, and make a lasting impact.
Why is filmmaking important to you? Why is it important to the world?
Waters: Filmmaking is important to me because it’s a way to reclaim narrative sovereignty for Indigenous communities. For so long, our stories have been told by outsiders who misrepresented or erased us altogether. Filmmaking allows us to take control of how we’re seen, not just by the world but by ourselves. It’s about telling stories through our own lenses, celebrating our resilience, our humor, our challenges, and our triumphs in authentic ways.
For the world, filmmaking is a bridge — it connects people across cultures, fostering understanding and empathy. For Indigenous communities, it’s a powerful tool for rewriting history and ensuring our voices and perspectives are not just heard but valued. It’s a way to decolonize the narratives that have shaped perceptions of us and to replace them with stories that reflect the truth and beauty of who we are. Storytelling is intrinsic to our identity as Indigenous people. Through film, we preserve our culture, pass on our knowledge, and challenge stereotypes. It’s more than an art form; it’s an act of resistance and a means of healing. Filmmaking is vital not only for our survival but for our ability to thrive and inspire future generations to continue sharing our stories.
If you weren’t a filmmaker, what would you be doing?
Fatal: I would be a geologist and gardener.
Strong: I would be a kinesiologist or naturopathic doctor.
Waters: If I weren’t a filmmaker, I’d likely be working full time in the nonprofit sector, focusing on ways to make a positive impact in my communities. Given my background in environmental studies, I’d probably be involved in environmental justice work, advocating for the protection of land, water, and resources for Indigenous communities. I’ve always felt deeply connected to issues of environmental preservation, so I would find ways to merge that passion with my commitment to community well-being.
Even if I weren’t in filmmaking, my drive to create meaningful change and give back to my people would still be at the core of what I do. Whether through film or nonprofit work, I’d continue to focus on uplifting communities, building awareness, and fighting for justice.
Who are your creative heroes?
Fatal: Chicana artist Yolanda López; my partner, Ali Meyers-Ohki. Fearless, badass filmmaker visionaries like Elegance Bratton and Erica Tremblay and River Gallo. The Two-Spirit communities I come from in the Bay Area. People who fight for freedom and equality for those in need. My students at the school I teach at. Public school teachers and librarians.
Waters: My creative heroes include Issa Rae, Joy Harjo, and Dana Tiger. Issa Rae’s ability to create authentic, relatable stories and carve out space for voices that are often overlooked is something I deeply admire. Joy Harjo, as a poet and a storyteller, represents the strength and depth of Native creativity — her work has not only shaped poetry but has also expanded what it means to be an Indigenous artist in the world. Dana Tiger, who is not only a remarkable artist but also a storyteller in her own right, has been a huge inspiration to me, especially with her resilience and commitment to revitalizing her family’s legacy.
My creative heroes also include Denis Villeneuve. His mastery of storytelling, his ability to create visually stunning and emotionally resonant films, and his skill in blending deep philosophical themes with captivating narratives have always inspired me.
As an Indigenous filmmaker, I look up to those few who’ve broken barriers in the film industry, like Danis Goulet, whose work is a testament to how Indigenous stories can be told in ways that honor both tradition and contemporary issues. There are many more heroes out there whose stories and creativity I’m eager to discover and celebrate. I feel lucky to be part of a growing community of Indigenous filmmakers and artists who are creating the space for new voices to emerge.
One thing people don’t know about me is _____.
Fatal: I am obsessed with Dungeons and Dragons and have been since I was 11 years old.
Strong: I play hockey. I even occasionally win the MVP award.
Tell us about your history with Sundance Institute. When was the first time you engaged with us? Why did you want your film to screen with us?
Fatal: My journey with Sundance started in 2020, in the middle of the pandemic, when I was accepted into the Sundance Institute [Native Filmmakers] Lab for my first short narrative film. This lab and the mentors and peers I gained made me see film in a new way that proved it was my life calling. From then on, sharing my films with the community that made me the filmmaker I am today became a dream. One that has now come true in 2025.
Strong: In 2020, I was selected for the Sundance Institute Native Filmmakers Lab in collaboration with the Indigenous Screen Office in Canada. I was one of five participants from that year. I felt incredibly honored to be the first director selected from north of the imaginary border and to be behind the first animated project picked for this opportunity. It was through this experience that I connected with Bird Runningwater and Adam Piron, who have supported me along the way to complete this project.
Sundance is one of the most esteemed film festivals globally, and having your film be selected to screen in the Festival is a humbling achievement. It’s extremely exciting as an Indigenous director with an animated story to be in the company of the other selected shorts.
What’s your favorite film that has come from the Sundance Institute or Festival?
Fatal: It’s a tie between Ponyboi, Wild Indian, and Fancy Dance.
Waters: One of my favorite films that has come from Sundance is Daughters. It’s an incredible documentary that had me deeply moved — it’s beautiful, raw, and gut-wrenching. The filmmakers’ approach to vérité storytelling is exceptional, capturing such powerful, honest moments. It felt so real and intimate, making me reflect on the complexity of family and the human experience. Sundance has produced so many powerful films, but Daughters really stands out for its emotional depth and masterful execution.