The cinematic debut of Gregor Brändli, Elephants & Squirrels, reveals a creator who has traversed multiple disciplines before directing his first feature-length documentary. With a background in theater, advertising, and music videos, and having worked as a cinematographer and editor for other filmmakers — among them Frank Matter, now his producer — Brändli ventures into a terrain where aesthetic sensitivity meets ethical reflection. Premiering in the International Documentary Competition at DOK Leipzig, the film delves into a theme that strongly resonates today: cultural restitution and colonial memory.
Filmed between Switzerland and Sri Lanka, the work explores the historical relationship between the two countries through the legacy of cousins Paul and Fritz Sarasin, Swiss explorers who, between 1883 and 1913, traveled to what was then Ceylon, collecting objects and human remains that they brought back to Basel. More than a century later, Sri Lankan artist Deneth Piumakshi Veda Arachchige discovers that collection while researching in Swiss museums. Her discovery opens a conversation that questions the often cruel methods of the past and raises the urgent need to return those artifacts to the Wanniyala-Aetto people, from whom they originate.
Unlike other documentaries that denounce without nuance, Elephants & Squirrels seeks reconciliation and dialogue. Brändli avoids the easy opposition between victim and perpetrator, choosing instead a perspective that grants equal dignity to both worlds — the European and the Asian. His camera, accompanied by Jonas Jäggy’s cinematography, shuns obvious contrasts between the institutional gray of Switzerland and the tropical exuberance of Sri Lanka. Instead, it constructs a shared space of encounter where both territories mirror each other, jointly questioning their intertwined heritage.
The film also rests on the transparent collaboration between Brändli and Deneth, whose calm yet determined presence guides the narrative. She retraces the Sarasins’ journey, engages with descendants of her community, and confronts Swiss bureaucracy, which, while not denying restitution, delays it through administrative arguments. Yanik Soland’s music subtly underscores this oscillation between hope and disillusionment, marking moments of tension with wind instruments and easing them with luminous piano notes.
Elephants & Squirrels is not only a documentary about the past but a proposal for how to mend the present. Brändli transforms a specific case into a universal reflection on belonging, respect, and memory. His measured tone and visual depth turn the film into a lesson on how art can mediate between cultures without falling into accusation or complacency. With his critical yet conciliatory gaze, the Swiss director offers a portrait of history that, rather than closing wounds, invites us to learn from them.
