Connecting Across Nā Mauna and Mountains: Big Sky Documentary Film Festival and the 4th World Media Lab

Aloha mai kākou! ʻO Kekama Amona koʻu inoa; he Kānaka Maoli hana kiʻiʻoniʻoni au no ko pae ʻāina o Hawaiʻi. My name is Kekama Amona, and I’m a Kānaka Maoli (Native Hawaiian) filmmaker from Oʻahu, Hawaiʻi. I recently had the incredible opportunity to be one of six Indigenous filmmakers at the Big Sky Documentary Film Festival in Missoula, Montana, as part of the 4th World Media Lab 2025. This gathering marked the beginning of a year-long journey of growth, collaboration, and storytelling for our hui (cohort).

Our time in Missoula was deeply impactful. We came together to build kinship, share our diverse experiences, and bring and honor the sacred space where our individual stories are unfolding in our homelands to this snowy mountainous town. It was a powerful reminder of the importance of narrative sovereignty and the strength we find in collective support, allyship, and aloha. For Kānaka (Native Hawaiians), aloha is a way of life and a core Indigenous value. If you’re interested in exploring the essence of aloha, I invite you to view Auntie Pilahi Paki’s beautiful definition.

In Hawaiʻi, some of our sacred mauna (mountains) like Mauna a Wakea on the Big Island and Haleakalā on Maui are cold enough to see snow, but our local residents, accustomed to year-round warmth, often bundle up in puffer jackets and Ugg boots when temperatures dip into the high 60s as tourists still sport bathing suits by the shore. As I prepared for Montana’s winter, I (over) packed for imaginary blizzards. There was a recent dusting of snow when we landed, and for two days, we experienced snowfall that quickly melted with the sunshine, revealing signs of early spring—and perhaps another reason why this festival’s namesake is “Big Sky”—endless, beautiful, big blue skies surrounded us.

What struck me most, however, was not the weather, but the beauty of the landscape and the welcoming spirit of the Big Sky Documentary Film Festival community. Aside from the charming town and social events to meet filmmakers, the festival presented invaluable learning and collaboration opportunities, allowing our cohort to engage with filmmakers from around the world. I participated in professional documentary forums, observed the Big Sky Pitch event, and benefited from the Doc Shop sessions, presented by the UCLA Documentary Film Legal Clinic. These sessions gave crucial insights into the legal aspects of filmmaking, such as production contracts, fair use, and archival content.

In addition to the workshops and cohort discussions, I had the privilege of watching three powerful documentaries: She Cried That Day, Saints and Warriors, and Johatsu: Into Thin Air. These films tackled important themes like the legal battle and emotional journey of an Indigenous woman haunted by her sister’s unsolved murder in New Mexico, connecting to the larger crisis of murdered and missing Indigenous women and children; a Haida basketball team’s championship journey and their community’s fight for landback; and the hidden world of Japanese citizens who pay to disappear from society. I had the opportunity to hear directly from the directors during their Q&A sessions, gaining insights into their creative processes and inspirations. The intimate festival vibe made it effortless to connect with people and continue discussions well into other events during the week.

Beyond the screenings, our cohort engaged in meaningful conversations with our mentors, whether one-on-one, in group meetings, or during social events. We discussed the current state of the film industry, the importance of Indigenous representation, and strategies for developing our projects. What stood out most was the shared commitment to our communities, lands, and languages, and our dedication to supporting each other’s journeys. While our projects are diverse, they all share a common thread: the desire to reclaim our narratives and honor our cultural heritage. Through storytelling, we are amplifying community voices, protecting our lands and waters, and sharing ancestral knowledge. Now more than ever, Indigenous perspectives and voices are critical.

While there was so much more to experience in Missoula, the greatest takeaway for me will always be the deep pilina (relationships) we forged, nurtured, and will continue to build for the future. From the cohort’s time being hosted and thoughtfully cared for by the generous hospitality of Executive Director of the Big Sky Film Institute’s Julia Sherman and 4th World Liaison at the Big Sky Film Institute’s Victoria Cheyanne to comparing Indigenous food and favorite TV indulgences with mentors and master grant-writers Ivy and Ivan MacDonald to a late night and snowy snack run for a burger with VP of Content for ITVS’s Noland Walker or talking shop with screenwriter and pitch master Maya Rose Dittloff at a gallery mixer or chilling with music and good conversations around a bonfire in the snow under the stars with Content Development Manager for ITVS’ Jannet Nuñez and a few dozen filmmakers or eating a farewell brunch with Festival and Community Program Manager for CIFF’s Cam Howard to driving across several states to get home safely with Education Manager for SIFF’s Megan Garbayo López, it truly meant the world to re/connect with both old and new hoa aloha (friends) who not only have your back but also share a deep appreciation for Indigenous stories. That is community and aloha. What the world needs more than ever.

As we prepare for our next cohort gathering at the 51st Seattle International Film Festival, I am filled with gratitude for the experiences and connections we made at Big Sky Documentary Film Festival. Mahalo nui to you all, especially to the mana wahine (powerful female force), outstanding visionary, and leadership that is Tracy Rector.

We are excited to continue our journey and share our stories with the world. A hui hou (until next time) . . . Mahalo, mahalo, mahalo!