“Mariposa Traicionera” (“Treacherous Butterfly”) marks one of the most arresting and mysterious short films currently seeking a world premiere on the 2026 festival circuit. Shot in Spain and distributed worldwide by Italian outfit Allegorie, the 20-minute chamber piece is produced by John Henry Hinkel and Zico Judge for Liaison Pictures and Blur Films. As intimate as it is unsettling, the film revolves around a couple locked in a cyclical bond that neither tenderness nor cruelty can fully sever.
The story begins when David (Karim Saleh) wakes to find his lover Belén (Andrea Riseborough) inexplicably paralyzed. As he oscillates between devotion and destruction in his attempts to reanimate her, writer-director Boni Mata peels back the layers of a love that may be decaying, mutating or consuming itself. Whether Belén’s stillness is an act of resistance or submission remains one of the short’s most haunting ambiguities — and the cast and director explore those questions candidly in our conversation below.
Boni and Karim: can you talk about the inception of the project, especially the encounter with paralysis — emotional or otherwise? How did it begin?
Boni Mata (BM): Originally the story came from a place of deep personal pain. I almost imagined making it as a therapeutic exercise. I always knew I wanted Karim to be involved. When he joined — especially in the script-writing process — it transformed. It’s still similar to what it was at conception, but also very different. We spoke a lot about the idea of paralysis, so I’ll let Karim take that further.
Karim Saleh (KS): When I came in, Boni had already laid out the theme in a very motivating way. The paralysis was both metaphorical and literal. It was rooted in psychological experience for her — and I sensed it was something she had encountered personally. I didn’t come onboard to “solve” aesthetic issues; I wanted to help make it playable for us — for Andrea and me. From the start, we wanted it to be a collaboration between Boni and me, and to bring Andrea in. At first we didn’t know if she’d be interested, but the idea was to create something that appealed to an actor’s sensibility. That’s how we shifted from a more narrative depiction of paralysis to something more ambivalent — living between the physical and the psychological.
Regarding the writing process: was it mainly an inner journey, or were you also influenced by other works?
BM: Good question. Visually I kept referring to Persona while preparing the shot list. But the writing itself was very internal and organic. For a while there were flashbacks, but ultimately it boiled down to what needed to be on screen.
We always knew there would be improvisation and discovery on set, so the script became less important once we started making the film.
KS: I didn’t sit down and write — the words belonged to Boni. Some lines were improvised, as planned. My references came from DV8, the physical theater company, and from a Robert Wilson play I’d seen with Michel Piccoli and a ballet dancer — a relationship between two people with a large age difference. In that play, he was paralyzed while she was in motion.
These weren’t things I wanted to emulate directly, but they guided what I communicated to Boni. I don’t like to reference specific works during the creative process — it can be confining.
BM: Very confining — and so can dialogue. That’s partly why the film became almost a silent piece. We kept stumbling over what to say in certain moments, and realized the power was in the physical embodiment, not the words.
KS: That worked especially because very few actors can bring a “black hole” to the screen — such gravity with such grace. When Andrea came in, I felt she brought us to that center. I don’t think we could have reached it otherwise.
Speaking of that “black hole,” my next question is for Andrea. Much of your performance is built on a stillness that isn’t passive — it’s charged. How did you stay active within that stillness?
Andrea Riseborough (AR): I’m going to disappoint you — because that’s a very private process, and I never really talk about it. I keep that internal.
But what I can speak to is being part of the process. It was exciting to occupy such a large energetic space while being physically manipulated — to be both present and a pawn. It was a fascinating experience, sometimes incredibly difficult.
How long did the shoot take? And how did you structure your days? It seems like a very intense, almost immersive process.
BM: We shot it in two days.
Just two?
BM: Yes. As much as I fantasized about us all living together during the process, we were restricted. But we created space on set to really dive into things. I knew what I wanted the circumstances and environment to be for Karim and Andrea, so I would put them in a room, have the crew leave, and close the doors. It ruined my life in post — we were in a house with big stone walls and I couldn’t hear anything — but it created an incredibly intimate space. We knew the mise-en-scène, but not what would actually happen between the characters. That discovery was essential.
KS: Boni earned the right to experiment like that. She’s young, but she’s someone who has diligently paid her dues. For her to create that space for two actors — she earned it. Her confidence allowed her not to be intrusive, but also gave us structure. It was an earned fluidity.
On the technical side: how did you work with your DP and editor? What was the vision — and how much room was there for exploration?
BM: Our DP, Adam Leene, and I have worked together for years. He’s extraordinary — talented, intuitive. We communicate almost non-verbally.
We spent a lot of time in the location before shooting, built mood boards for months, sometimes years. Adam was one of the first people involved — I knew I wanted Karim to act in it and Adam to shoot it.
As for editing: I edited the final film, but at one point I worked with another editor who’s now credited as a consultant. His process is unique: “Give me all the footage. I want everything. Don’t tell me the story.” His cut wasn’t the one I wanted, but it opened up what the film could be. The edit could have gone in a million directions. What we have now is a delicate balance — almost a dance, like the performances.
KS: I’ve worked with many female directors in non-commercial settings where I was very involved creatively. There’s often a quality of observation and delicacy in their editing. We gave Boni everything — all the intimate material. I wasn’t surprised by how respectful she was. She chose the most elegant, profound version of the story.
Was it a small crew?
BM: I don’t remember exactly. Maybe around 12? Not a skeleton crew, but small. Many people were banished to the sidelines for sound and privacy.
The film touches on power, control and the unspoken corners of love. Where does love end and possession begin?
KS: I’m immensely possessive. I’m from the Mediterranean — the epicenter of every religious disaster! As the God of Abraham said: “For I am a jealous God.”
For me, love is the disintegration of that conditioning. Love is deconstruction.
So the dialectic — the dance between structure and dissolution — is where the love in this film lives. If she is Dionysus (ether, openness) and I’m Apollo (structure, holding), then it’s Nietzsche’s death of tragedy — the dance of opposites.
BM: Someone once said: to love and be loved is to be changed. You can’t have one without the other. There’s an inherent level of possession, destruction, sabotage that comes with deep love.
AR: It’s a fascinating question — and the answer probably changes throughout life.
Now something lighter. I’d like to ask each of you about women in film you admire.
BM: So many. Andrea is one of them — I’ve never worked with a more talented actor or kinder human. Kathryn Bigelow has always been an idol. Lynne Ramsay. Amanda Kramer.
AR: Anyone who chooses a life in film deserves admiration. It’s a life of instability, sacrifice, surprises — a strange obsession. I commend all of us who devote ourselves to it.
KS: My father was a cinephile, so I grew up exposed to films. Before I ever thought of myself as a professional, I was drawn to Jane Campion — “An Angel at My Table,” “The Piano.” Cinema that was sensorial as much as narrative.
I was changed by working with Antonia Bird, a left-wing theater-rooted, activist-minded director. And I’ve worked twice with Zeina Durra—Andrea and I met on one of her films. Whatever my complications with her work, she follows her own ideas. I respect that stubbornness.
Boni, you’re now in pre-production on your feature “Kill Your Therapist.” Does it have continuity with this short, or is it something very different?
BM: Mariposa is probably the piece with the least continuity with my other work — it’s so genuine and authentic, whereas a lot of my other projects lean into irony or slapstick. But I’ve learned so much from making this film, and I can’t help but take that into future work. Even “Kill Your Therapist,” which started as something else, has already changed. It’s again centered on a strong female lead who is both victim and villain — something I’ll always be drawn to: complicated women.
