“Our superpower is intuition. Machines compute. We feel. Let’s not forget that.” We were excited to chat with Ugo Bienvenu whose debut feature Arco is a deeply philosophical, deceptively simple parable about what we risk losing in the age of technological conquest.
The office of UniFrance is buzzing, with several journalists waiting for their turn to interview the many French actors and directors whose films are part of the Cannes Film Festival 2025. While waiting for my turn to speak with French artist Ugo Bienvenu—whose animated feature Arco was screened as a Special Screening at Cannes—I couldn’t help but wonder: what will the future look like? A future, perhaps, like the one shown in Ugo’s film, set in the year 2075, which asks whether we can live with—or without—humans or robots.
With these questions swirling in my mind, I head to the terrace, where Ugo stands to greet me. He’s dressed in a beautiful, cross-stitched Mexican cream jacket and immediately teases me about his love for color.
At 38, Ugo doesn’t carry the air of a person already well-established as a successful illustrator, graphic novelist, and avid comic book fan. Instead, he comes across as someone genuinely happy to speak about his passion for animation and storytelling—roots that stretch back to his childhood dreams.
Ugo begins our conversation by explaining the name behind Arco, the film’s title. “Arco and his companion Iris,” he says, referring to the film’s central characters, “are children navigating a future shaped by automation, environmental collapse, and forgotten histories. But their names aren’t arbitrary. They’re poetic remnants of Arcoiris, the Spanish word for rainbow.
“It was my partner Félix who reminded me of it,” Ugo continues. “We’d been searching for names. I had lived in Guatemala and Mexico, so I have this Spanish tropism. And then came Arcoiris—rainbow. A symbol of hope and change across cultures. Perfect.”
Though the film may appear to be aimed at children, Ugo insists that it speaks to both adults and younger viewers alike. In Arco, the rainbow becomes more than just a visual motif—it’s a narrative bridge linking the ecological and spiritual richness of the past to a mechanized, muted future.
“The movie is all about change,” Ugo explains. “And what you must pay to change. I wanted to say to children: yes, it’s beautiful to wish for a better world—but it will cost something. It’s not easy. We’ve forgotten the notion of hardship.”
The storytelling is immersive, the colors radiant, and the emotional undertow gentle yet persistent. “I wanted to do something like Pinocchio or Alice in Wonderland,” Ugo says. “Those films are harsh. But they stay with you. They guide you. I wanted Arco to live inside people that way, especially children. Our superpower is intuition. Machines compute. We feel. Let’s not forget that.”
It is this very tension—between machine logic and human emotion—that drives Bienvenu’s visually sumptuous animated film: a deeply philosophical, deceptively simple parable about what we risk losing in the age of technological conquest.
Surprisingly, Ugo didn’t initially set out to make Arco as a children’s film. “My daughter is three and a half,” he laughs, “and she was completely engaged for ten minutes. So yes, it works for children—but also for adults. Maybe especially for adults.”
He believes children are more resilient and imaginative than adults often assume. Arco doesn’t talk down to its audience. Instead, it invites reflection on themes like loss, hope, technological dependency, and ecological memory.
“I’m not against technology,” Ugo clarifies. “But we created it to free time for ourselves—to think, to write, to feel. Now it’s stealing time from us. Grabbing our brains.” In Arco, the present-day world is governed by robots—efficient but unfeeling. The future, represented by a return to farming and community, echoes an older truth: that humanity thrives not in conquest, but in connection.
“What are we ready to abandon of our humanity to go further?” he asks. “And do we really know what we’re losing?” This pragmatic pondering intensified for Ugo after the pandemic, though he says the ideas have lived in him for years. “Arco is the result of all my life and my thinking,” he says. “It’s a concentration of everything I’ve felt since I was a child.”
One cannot watch Arco without being mesmerized by its vivid palette—rich, layered, and unapologetically bold in its use of color. “When I was a student, everyone hated the rainbow tool on Photoshop,” Ugo laughs. “They said it was bad taste. So I used it—just to piss people off.” Over time, that rebellious gesture became a signature.
Living in Mexico, China, and Guatemala further shaped his chromatic sensibility. “Western color theory is very narrow,” he says. “Living abroad taught me how differently people experience and use color. That freedom stayed with me.”
Though best known today for his animated films, Ugo began his creative life as a comic book artist. “Comics were my first love,” he says. “But it’s hard to make a living doing them.” Animation, on the other hand, offered a more practical path—a structured industry with clearer job roles.
“I tried to be a technician,” he admits. “But I couldn’t. I had to make my own things. If I don’t, it’s like a cancer inside me. I become grumpy.” That creative urgency led to Arco, a film five years in the making. Every frame was crafted with care, narrative patience, and philosophical inquiry. “It’s a simple story,” Ugo says modestly. “But I hope it stays.”
And what comes next? “I need to rest a bit,” he smiles, visibly tired but heartened by the warm response to Arco at Cannes. “We just finished the film a week ago. But I have other projects—some comic books I’m writing for others, and two film scripts.”
Will they be animated? “Maybe. Maybe not. Let’s see if I’m strong enough,” he laughs.
Our reporters are on the ground in Cannes, France, to bring you exclusive content from the 78th Cannes Film Festival—explore our coverage here.
