Film Threat contributing editor Bradley Gibson recently spoke with Mexican writer-director Andres Ramirez about his documentary short Ver, Veracruz, which is featured in the 2026 Chelsea Film Festival. Ramirez explores the history and culture of Veracruz, seeking to uncover what defines it beyond the beaches, food, and music, revealing a deeper identity of culture and history shaped by its people, memory, and lived experience.
What was it like growing up in Veracruz, and what made you want to make this film about your hometown?
“Veracruz is my hometown, and I lived there until I was ten. Because of my father’s work, we moved away, and I spent most of my adolescence in Monterrey. At nineteen, I moved to Vancouver to attend Vancouver Film School, and later I went to New York to study at NYU Tisch.
After so many years in Canada and the U.S., coming back to Veracruz nearly two decades later felt surprisingly unfamiliar. I had to reconnect with the city as an adult and as a filmmaker. Making this film became part of that process: I explored neighborhoods I had never really known, met artists such as the film’s composer, Maestro Ryszard Siwy, and found a new creative community. It helped me move beyond childhood nostalgia and see Veracruz with fresh eyes.
The film began with a challenge. In February 2026, my former NYU professor, Karl Bardosh, encouraged me to make a film entirely on my phone and told me about a screening opportunity for cellphone filmmakers at the Marché du Film in Cannes. I was excited but also overwhelmed. I thought, ‘I don’t have a script, actors, a crew, or the resources to make a proper film.’
Then, one day, looking at the ocean from a window, it clicked: I did have my ‘actor.’ I had Veracruz. That realization changed everything. Instead of forcing a story onto the city, I could let Veracruz become the protagonist. That was the beginning of a documentary about the history, culture, and people of my hometown.”
What are your hopes for the Chelsea Film Festival?
“First of all, I hope to learn, network, celebrate cinema, and have fun. Having Ver, Veracruz selected for the Chelsea Film Festival is a tremendous honor, and it means a lot to become part of the festival’s 14-year history. I’m incredibly grateful to the festival for giving me the opportunity to bring a piece of my hometown to a city that means so much to me.
I still remember getting the news. I had just woken up, saw the acceptance, and basically jumped out of bed like I had won the World Cup. I think that probably tells you how much it meant to me. My career is still beginning, and I’m currently developing my first feature, so I also hope Chelsea can become a place where I build relationships with other filmmakers and continue growing alongside the festival. I think about the communities that formed around festivals like Sundance in the 1990s, where filmmakers met one another early in their careers and then returned with new work over the years. I would love to build that kind of relationship with the Chelsea Film Festival and my fellow filmmakers. More immediately, I hope our screening celebrates not only my film but the work of my fellow filmmakers in Program #7, ‘Finding Your Way,’ at Regal Battery Park on Friday, October 16 at 9:15 PM. I hope we engage the New York audience, meet people, have conversations afterward, and, ultimately, that everyone has fun and a great screening.
For me personally, having the film screen in New York is especially meaningful. I lived here while attending NYU, and the city played an enormous role in my development as a filmmaker. So bringing a film about my hometown in Mexico back to New York feels like a homecoming in a strange way. I was secretly hoping that my U.S. premiere would happen here, and now it is. And, as the song says, ‘If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere.’ I’m just eager to share Veracruz with a New York audience.”
What was it like shooting the film on an iphone?
“At first, it felt strange. I was used to working with what I thought of as ‘real’ cinema cameras, Super 8, 16mm, 35mm, and digital systems such as ARRI Alexa, RED, and Sony. Honestly, I initially saw the iPhone as a limitation. But once I added an anamorphic lens and an ND filter and learned how much control it could give me, I stopped thinking of it as a phone. It simply became another camera. It also created a real intimacy with the people I filmed. A phone is far less intimidating than a large camera setup, and I could work discreetly without drawing much attention, most people assumed I was vlogging. That freedom helped me capture more natural moments. It also gave me the chance to experiment seriously with anamorphic lenses and Scope framing, something I had wanted to explore for a long time.
Believe it or not, the hardest part was data management. Once you push the settings—Apple ProRes 422 HQ and Apple Log, the iPhone becomes a remarkably capable camera, but the files are enormous. I ended up with nearly 5 TB of footage and had to buy several hard drives. Still, I’m very proud of the images we created. What first felt like a constraint helped me capture the intimacy and beauty of Veracruz in what I think of as small cinematic postcards.
Of course, filmmakers have been using phones creatively for years, from Sean Baker’s Tangerine to Park Chan-wook and Park Chan-kyong’s Night Fishing. Those films reinforce something I strongly believe: the camera is only a tool. The story should always come first, and every technical choice should serve it.”
Did making Ver, Veracruz change the way you see your hometown or your own identity as a Veracruzano?
“Absolutely. I think I started noticing a lot of the beauty that I had simply taken for granted. There were places I already knew, sometimes places I had passed hundreds of times, but once you put a camera in front of them, your relationship with those places changes. You start paying attention to the light, the architecture, the people, and the small details of everyday life. The more I photographed Veracruz, the more intimate my relationship with the city became.
On a personal level, the film also introduced me to a creative community in Veracruz that I hadn’t really been part of before. One of those people was the music teacher David Barrera Flores, who introduced me to the great Polish composer Maestro Ryszard Siwy. Ryszard provided the music for the film, and now we speak frequently about music, cinema, and art. Those relationships became part of rediscovering Veracruz for me.
The film also encouraged me to discover local businesses and artists, reconnect with friends, and meet people I might never have met otherwise. It helped me feel more connected to the community as an adult. I think that was particularly important because my previous relationship with Veracruz was so tied to childhood and nostalgia. Making the documentary allowed me to create a new relationship with my hometown, one based on who I am now.
And ultimately, it has given me the opportunity to share Veracruz with audiences outside Mexico. Being able to take a piece of my hometown to places like Cannes, India, and now New York has made me appreciate my identity as a Veracruzano in a completely different way. I’m very proud to be able to say this is where I come from.”
What was the process of making the documentary like? Did you shoot and edit simultaneously, or did the film find its structure later in the editing process?
“As I mentioned, the entire production happened incredibly quickly. Once I realized I was going to shoot the documentary on my iPhone, I immediately started researching what I would need to turn the phone into a proper filmmaking tool. I ordered a cage to rig the iPhone, a gimbal, an ND filter, and anamorphic lenses from Moment. Together, those tools transformed the iPhone, at least psychologically for me, from a phone into a camera. My camera-testing period lasted basically one day. I experimented with different third-party camera apps and tested the equipment before ultimately settling on the Blackmagic Camera app because of the level of manual control it gave me, particularly over exposure.
From there, shooting and editing became almost simultaneous processes. I began with the interviews, and once I started cutting them together, the edit told me what I was missing. My subsequent days photographing Veracruz were informed by the B-roll and coverage I needed to visually complement what people were telling me. So, as I mentioned earlier, I was essentially writing, shooting, and editing the documentary at the same time. One of the more difficult parts was finding archival material. Thankfully, through one of my subjects, I was able to connect with the city’s historian, who helped provide access to historical material beyond what was already available in the public domain.
But I would say the film ultimately found its structure in the editing room. I knew the central question, ‘What makes Veracruz a special place?,’ but I didn’t know exactly what the finished journey toward answering it would look like, how the film would feel, or even how long it would be. The interviews, archival material, contemporary footage, narration, and music gradually began speaking to one another through the edit. That’s where I discovered the structure and, ultimately, what Ver, Veracruz was actually going to be, how it would look and sound.”
How is the documentary process different for you versus making a dramatic film?
“I think the major difference is in the ‘writing’ and in how you shape the story. In narrative filmmaking, there is usually a script, and you’re working toward an ending you already know. That ultimately influences your choices as a director and the way you work with your crew and actors. Documentary filmmaking felt much more experimental to me because it allowed for a more immediate response to whatever happened that day. As you shoot, you’re discovering the story, and then you continue writing it through the edit.
For Ver, Veracruz, my process was to first identify a theme. In this case, it became a question: ‘What makes Veracruz a special place?’ That question essentially became my script and anchored the entire narrative. That’s also why I serve as the narrator asking that question, because I quickly realized that the film’s arc was really my own journey toward discovering the answer.
That also meant learning to edit the film as I went along. Earlier cuts had plenty of ‘cool’ shots that I loved visually, but I eventually removed them because they weren’t contributing anything to that central question. There was also a technical learning curve. Because of the tight deadline, my camera test lasted basically one day, so I was learning how to work with the iPhone and get the most out of it while I was already making the film. Hopefully, when people watch it, they can’t see that learning curve. At the same time, I approached the interviews almost as if I were shooting scenes in a narrative film. I would begin with a master shot and then work my way into close-ups, profiles, and inserts. Having multiple phones recording simultaneously also allowed me to create the coverage I wanted and later shape those conversations during the editing process.
My biggest challenge was making sure the documentary remained engaging. I believe one of a director’s main responsibilities is to hold an audience’s attention, and because the film would premiere in France, I kept asking myself: How do I make a film about Veracruz connect with someone who has never been there? That question shaped the entire documentary. Rather than overwhelming an international audience with historical facts, I focused on memories, nostalgia, myths, traditions, and family— experiences that are universal. The history is still present, but it emerges through people and through larger ideas such as freedom, identity, family, and the separation of church and state.”
