You Can't Plan Surprises: Amalia Ulman on Magic Farm

Everyone’s on edge from the start. Wrangling with their audiovisual equipment, a crew adjusts mics and attempts to nail scripted lines, as cars thrum next to them on the busy sidewalk. Each take they shoot is as sketchy as the last. So begins Amalia Ulman's Magic Farm (2025). A sharp fictionalization of millennial internet culture, the filmmaker's sophomore feature follows an unnamed hipster media organization as it hops from the United States to Argentina to profile a musician called Super Carlitos. But once they get there, they realize they have no idea where he is; all they know is that he wears a pair of bunny ears—à la “Bunny Boy” from Harmony Korine’s Gummo (1997). Going down rabbit holes, the group wield their wobbly social skills: Knocking on doors and bonding with the locals of San Cristobal, where they’ve ended up, they hunt for a fresh scoop. If the story has to be magicked up out of an entirely different hat, then so be it.

When, in those opening moments, we meet the show's host Edna (a wry Chloë Sevigny), she is reporting on kids in Mexico wearing "crazy boots." This will be the inaugural segment for an online series documenting “crazy subcultures around the world.” The rest of the crew haphazardly orbit Edna, half kicking about carelessly, half trying to get things right. Alex Woolf is Jeff, usually somewhere else. Simon Rex is Edna's partner, Dave, about to be exposed for a sex scandal. Joe Apollonio is the smiley, sociable Justin, while Ulman herself is the group's stabilizing force, Elena. Seen from afar, they’re a cool crew, but Ulman’s eye moves closer, questioning how each individual character behaves, connects with others, or fails to do so. Slippery social dynamics and identities course through her work. Ulman first found fame as a performance artist, presenting shapeshifting versions of contemporary femininity on Instagram. El Planeta, her 2021 debut in which she starred with her mother, Ale Ulman, plays with ideas around home and belonging, exploring how people work to stay afloat. Moving away from directly personal terrain, Magic Farm sees its group scavenge instead for buzzy #content, in an ironic disconnect from Ulman’s own thoughtful, variegated approaches to new media.

In Argentina, more characters join the fray. Actors Guillermo Jacubowicz, Valeria Lois, Camila del Campo—as well as Ulman’s own motorcycle-riding grandmother, Marita—lead the vibrant cast here, where scenes are often outdoors, and dynamic. Along with filming content for TikTok and generally hanging out, people skateboard, dance, and play with animals. Sensory visual overload—bright, verdant, a bit surreal—evokes the lead characters’ own hyperstimulation, as they work under pressure to gather footage, not quite knowing where to look when their first subject proves impossible to find. Misfires continue when Justin dismisses Cumbia music, asking a pair of professional musicians to make it sound "more Latin, less duck." In short: He doesn’t get the vibe. It’s part of a wider pattern in which the crew fail to notice the value and cultural specificity of the thing in front of them. Argentine characters throughout the film discuss the region’s various health concerns, but nobody listens; toward the end, a radio host warns of the link between exposure to weed-killing chemicals and reproductive disorders. Clueless about all of this, the crew huddle in their van and head back to where they came from. The mood is one of sadness, coming down. The implication is one of ignorance and powerlessness.

Magic Farm’s perceptiveness makes it just as sensitive to the sincere; Ulman is never too distracted by critique to neglect sweeter moments. A quiet love story, or at least the possibility of one, flickers between Justin and the receptionist. Before the North Americans leave, everyone comes together for a balmy evening that feels, despite everything, nice, and already nostalgic for the times they shared. We spoke with Ulman about the magic of making Magic Farm—from lucky sets, to collaborating with her cast and working with animals.

MUBI: For how long had you been considering ideas for Magic Farm?

AMALIA ULMAN: For a while, since doing preproduction for El Planeta (2021). I was about to sit down and write the script when I got invited to contribute to a publication called Civilization, for a letter project they sent out in 2020, during the pandemic [Civilization Letter Service]. The first page officially began there, with Marita on the motorcycle going to church. I remember sharing some photos of my grandma with her motorcycle, and this inspiration helped to kickstart everything.

MUBI: What was your approach to thinking about this kind of film crew?

ULMAN: I’ve never worked for a company like that, or in any corporate environment, so I sat down many times with a friend who did work on those sorts of documentaries. He sadly passed away before production, but a lot was adapted from his experience.

MUBI: How did it feel to move between your role in the film and your role as the director?

ULMAN: It was exhausting. I was almost seen as two people, but I can’t be in two places at the same time! The problem with a larger production is that not everyone knows how to navigate the actor-director dynamic. One day, I hadn’t received the call sheet and I was like, “Is anybody picking me up?” And someone said that I wasn’t acting that day. I’m like, “Yeah, but I’m the director!” I wouldn’t be able to make any of these films without my assistant director, Carmen Roca Igual, who also helped me on El Planeta. While I’m running in front of and behind the camera, she’s looking at the monitor. I know I can trust her: If she tells me the scene is good, it’s good, and we move on.

MUBI: Other than casting yourself for your role, how was the rest of that process? We’ve got a super dynamic cast in Chloë Sevigny, Simon Rex, but then also newer faces in Alex Wolff, Camila Del Campo… How were you thinking about this multigenerational ensemble?

ULMAN: It was very intentional, especially for casting the crew. It had to be multigenerational, due to the structure and hierarchy of these companies. You have the Gen-Xers, the Millennials, and the Zoomers. Even though the Gen-Xers are so hipster, and it’s probably their fault that certain things exist, they still have these moments like “Oh that’s unethical… we can’t do that,” whereas the Zoomers might be like “What do you mean we can’t do that? We’ve been doing that!” It was important to show these different approaches to reality and fiction. I was also really excited to work with Camila. She’s an amazingly talented, funny actor, and I was in awe of her choices. It was her idea to burp, which is why everyone is like “Wait, what happened?”

MUBI: Was making Simon Rex’s character, Dave, quickly absent from the film an important structural point for you?

ULMAN: It was important to have this person who was just not around; he sort of shows up the first day and then he’s like, “Oh I’m off.” My friend who told me about these productions said that the higher-ups were mostly on holiday, or travelling for sex tourism. Edna ends up suffering from stuff her partner does, which is the reality of being a woman in that position. People are hiding things from Edna because she’s the boss, but I also wanted to give her an agency of her own. I wanted her to be as cool as Chloë Sevigny is: not only wear cool clothes but be cool. She’s mostly embarrassed about Dave’s behaviour and she’s moving on.

MUBI: She’s a great character!

ULMAN: To me, the only evil character is Jeff: the epitome of evil! He’s the person who messes everything up, and also is a fake feminist. He’s the one who asks for consent before turning someone down. He’s following the rules, but for all the wrong reasons, and to the point where he’s hurting people—in a corporate way, almost.

MUBI: Was there a person on set that you found yourself becoming more interested in?

ULMAN: Not to throw any of the other actors under the bus, but Valeria Lois was the most experienced of all of them. She’s a theater actor that has worked every single fucking day. In Spanish, you say tener tablas to describe someone with that kind of experience. To see her tools, and the way she supported other actors by helping them to solve certain scenes… I mean, it was beautiful how generous she was. It was like seeing magic happen. 

One of my favorite stories is the relationship between the receptionist and Justin. That, to me, is so beautiful, and Guillermo Jacubowicz is an amazing actor. A fear you always have as a director is how to manage chemistry in a way that feels credible. But they managed to pull it off in a way that I loved.

MUBI: You mentioned that word “magic,” which I was going to ask about. What felt magic about Magic Farm?

ULMAN: I think it was working with animals, especially with them being untrained. There was not a single animal trainer on set. One of my favorite moments in the film is when a cat and a dog stretch out together at the same time… When cats like somebody they copy them, which is where the term “copycat” comes from. You can’t plan when an animal surprises you. You’re like, “Oh my god. I hope I was recording that.” There was another moment with the camera on top of a horse, with Chloë approaching. We were all very far away, so there was no direction or anything, and the horse moved his ear so that we see Chloë better! These are moments when you’re just holding your breath, and it makes you so happy when they work out well. It’s the sign of a lucky production, because you have so much against you every time you make a movie. You’re relying on the weather, on animals… You’re at the edge of your seat, hoping everything will be fine.

MUBI: I love the different points of view you use: on the back of the horse’s head, on top of dogs, on the underside of a skateboard. What inspired you to put the camera in unconventional places?

ULMAN: I’ve been fascinated by new cameras and new ways of editing. People are using them now for places like TikTok. I was following an account of this cat in China, and the videos are super long, like one hour, two hours, and you just see what the cat does. Girlfriends, enemies... You see him climb and then jump; now he’s drinking, now he’s licking his paw. I found that footage beautiful, especially on a sunny day: Wake up, see the trees, see another cat. 

We have light enough cameras now that allow us to see animals in their natural environment and in a relaxed state. I thought: What if we can shoot some of the actors that way? I knew from location scouting that there were a lot of animals everywhere, just roaming around. There was this dog that was pregnant, so she was super friendly and would get close to everybody. We called her the cam girl. She’s the one who plays with Mateo Vaquer in the film. I was very happy to get those scenes.

MUBI: That idea of luck, and things coming into place on set, is quite interesting for Magic Farm. Things do fall into place for characters, but there’s also a sense of them not really having received anything for their work, other than a series of moments.

ULMAN: Humans are against corporations, bureaucracy, and imposed roles. I guess the film is about humans trying their best to have a decent life, have love stories and all of these things, even in the middle of really bad situations. On the silly side, this crew is forced to do what they’re doing because of orders that come from above, even though they know it’s bullshit, right? But on the other side everyone is affected by this corporation that’s polluting the whole world for generations to come. Whether it’s this stupid show or something on a larger scale: the imposition of health issues with unregulated glyphosates and microplastics, and other things beyond our power… Before it might have been like “Oh it’s just the Global South, which is a dumpster, and it’ll never happen to or affect anybody else.” Now we’re all fucked, everything’s contaminated. It makes humans feel powerless. So I think that’s what the film is about: the little moments we have left between all this.

MUBI: I definitely felt that ambient anxiety and dread. But, like you said, there are so many unexpected alliances too. We see Justin teaching Uri how to skateboard, and the connection forming between Justin and Uri’s dad, the receptionist. I wanted to ask what you were exploring with those visions of intimacy.

ULMAN: I guess it was about finding the positive on both sides. Of course Americans are the “bad ones.” [Gestures air quotes] In every movie that’s sort of how it is. But I’m also Latin American and I know that things there can be racist and homophobic too. Uri’s dad is super closeted, because he felt he could never be openly gay. On the other hand, my character wants to have kids but doesn’t feel like she can. Compared to how hard it is in America, she sees how easy, and normal, it is to have children in Argentina. So, you know: There are all of these different ideas of “this is better here, that is better there.” But there’s good and bad everywhere.

MUBI: To close with the closing image: the motorbike path that rolls up into an amazing ball. I loved that so much.

ULMAN: It’s hard, because making a movie is so structured, but filmmaking in general is a bit conservative. I always try my best to add something that feels new in some way or another. Nothing stops you from adding a little something; it could just be a touch...