“We’re Ready To Start Dreaming Again” – An Open Letter From Our Festival Director Robert Misovic

We launched the Pendance Film Festival in 2017 on a snow-lashedwinter night at the Regent Theatre in midtown — a near-three-hour showcase of 17 short films and an abundance of audacity.

We did not know precisely what we were doing. But we knew, with the clarity that only conviction provides, that Toronto deserved something rare. And it had to be cold. Brutally, beautifully cold, if for no other reason than to prove that if the call of true cinema is strong enough, the world will answer, even at the risk of frostbitten toes.

In the years since, Pendance has become a discovery portal for some of the world’s most vital artists. We have watched our filmmakers go on to electrify audiences at Sundance, KVFF, and Venice. We are not a launch pad; we are something more human — a festival devoted to brutally honest storytelling. And what is art without brutality or truth? What is cinema without the courage to be vulnerable? Motel Art. That’s what.  

When we began in 2017, our ambitions were sprawling and untamed. Fifty goals, all pointed toward impossible heights. We wanted to jump on the moon and backflip off of Jupiter. But growth demands refinement. In 2026, we no longer chase the hollow triumph of the loudest premiere. We have distilled our purpose to three living priorities.

First: we champion artists who dare. Filmmakers who take real risks whose work carries the early spark of mastery and reaches beneath the surface to something enduring. 

Second: we strive to be an oasis for our filmmakers in the desert otherwise known as indie film. Independent cinema can be unforgiving: empty afternoon screenings, crowded festivals where your five-minute film vanishes into noise. Have you ever travelled halfway around the world to watch your film with four people as the staff tells you the that your film (which they have not watched) was very interesting. 

Ugh. Is there a word more void of meaning than interesting? I digress. Let’s get this out. 

As filmmakers, we know this terrain. We have walked it ourselves. That is why we fight to keep Pendance accessible, personal, and above all, human. Every dollar we raise returns to the artists — from stronger venues, to sharper promotion, better accommodations, and meaningful travel support.

Finally: a festival without its audience is merely a room with a screen. Our aim is not wealth, nor status, nor fleeting notoriety. Our aim is connection. To bring filmmakers face to face with the people their work was meant to move. We are a conduit between the artists we adore and the people who can see their work for what it really is. There’s no retirement home screenings at Pendance–you’re literally screening to a room of your peers, and that in and of itself is the most fulfilling part of what we’re building here. A festival by artists for artists. 

But wait. We can do more. And we will. Notice I didn’t say might. That’s conviction. 

As we approach our tenth year in 2027, the moment demands both reflection and resolve. One cannot give what one does not possess, and what comes next will require a full year of relentless effort: emails sent into the void, cold calls made on stubborn mornings, and thousands of focused hours from people determined to build a Pendance worthy of the decade it represents.

In 2019, we spoke in superlatives — biggest, tallest, most. Then came the humbling years. From 2020 through 2023, we were tested in ways only the last festival to exhibit in North America can truly understand. We came close to the edge of bankruptcy. But that crucible did not diminish us; it clarified us. 

2025 was our favourite Pendance yet. It was a festival that felt alive in all the right ways. Our partnership with Nickel 9 flourished and eventually culminated in the most elegant closing gala. Our filmmakers were energized. Our audiences leaned in. It was bold enough to challenge us and disciplined enough to sustain us. In 2026, we build forward with 36 exceptional films and more than a dozen attending filmmakers.

And yet — recently, something stirred. And it was a beautiful epiphany. 

Ten years is no small milestone. We were told in 2017 we’d be lucky to make it past 3 years. Now that we know how to deliver a tight, seat-filling three-to-four-day celebration of great cinema, the time has come to leave the survival mindset of 2020 behind… and to dare once more.

Far too often, when people reach out to us, there’s a tone of “good for you, I’m glad you’re still going and that the event is still happening”. It’s sort of the same energy you feel for that book store that’s been at war with e-readers since 1998. “Keep going Mom and Pop. What you do is very important. Mmm I love the smell of used books”. Nah—not cutting it. 

2027 will be our greatest undertaking yet.

We are working toward it every day — committing the full force of our hearts and minds to create an event this city can stand proudly behind. If you are a company in Canada, you will hear from us. If you are a grant office, an application is already on its way.

Because now more than ever, independent cinema matters.

In thirteen months, we intend to bring you the very best the world has to offer. And in the meantime, we cannot wait to welcome you this week at Pendance 2026.

I say this with genuine humility — and with renewed fire:

We are ready to dream again.

Now how’s that for brutal honesty?