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The Freedom to Be Yourself: Interview With Dano García About MICKEY

We have all heard the phrase “let it go” at some point. Saying it may seem simple, but doing it is another matter entirely. Looking back at the past, acknowledging the things that have left their mark on us, and finding a way to move forward is not always easy. In Mickey, Dano García explores memories, desires, and the possibility of constructing new realities—all while touching upon themes of friendship and the freedom to be your true self.

At the 24th Morelia International Film Festival (FICM), we had the opportunity to speak with Dano García, who shared insights into their creative process and the freedom that comes from making films rooted in friendship.

FICM: How did the idea to make Mickey come about and how long did it take you to develop the entire project?

Dano García: It took us ten years to make it. The idea came about in a room—Mickey and I were roommates, and we began looking through material that Mickey had kept since childhood and adolescence.

We both attended the same Catholic school back in Mazatlán. We started reminiscing, and I recorded that process through video calls and screen captures. It was like my intuition that said that after ten years, it would become this project. Just imagine all the changes and transformations we went through while envisioning the film—or rather, while imagining the film we wanted to create.

The film is composed of footage from cell phones, webcams, and even a security camera—using whatever tools we had at our disposal to create images and weave together this collage of Mickey’s life story. It explores themes of desire—specifically trans desires and trans dreams—as well as the fears we faced when revisiting the past: traveling back to Mazatlán, speaking with the administrators of the school we both attended, and asking Mickey’s father to participate in one of the film’s most pivotal sequences—the one involving the "drops." In that scene, the father reveals that he used to add drops of testosterone to Mickey’s smoothies. It’s deeply significant how he performs this; in the midst of the scene, through the very act of performing, he begins to reflect on what he had done. Ultimately, it is a very free-form film—one that took us more than a decade to complete.

FICM: What were you aiming to express through the idea of ​​creating a collage? And how difficult was it to bring together such diverse formats and integrate them into a single concept?

Dano García: I think it has a lot to do with language—in the sense that the boundaries between fiction, documentary, and social media become blurred.

Given all the tools we have for creating online personas and the use of new media, the film ends up dissolving those boundaries, crafting a very specific narrative around Mickey—which, for me, feels incredibly liberating.

Making a film from a laptop, using a webcam or a smartphone, offers a great deal of creative freedom. It steps outside the traditional industrial framework—which typically dictates that you must have a formal script, a pitch deck, and secured resources—and instead operates simply on the premise of making a movie with friends in a room. I believe this film really helps make that possible; it serves as an inspiration to others, too.

FICM: You have previously referred to the film as "transcinema"—what does this concept mean to you? What possibilities did you discover within this new format? And what new ways of making documentaries emerged from this experience?

Dano García: I feel that the concept of "trans-cinema"—or "cinema trans"—stems more from an exploration of desires; it is through these desires that the film—and its linear progression—begins to take shape.

I think we conceive of it as a "trans film" precisely because it is built upon those desires, those dreams. And I think it's not just the theme that's discussed from Mickey's perspective, but also in the entire way the film is made.

When people talk about "trans films," they often focus on hormonal transition as a linear process—"she came out, and now she’s a trans girl"—as if that were truly how it works. I feel that we are so much more than that. We aren’t just talking about transition; we are talking about desires and dreams. This is important, because it’s how other realities are created.

FICM: It seems like a very intimate project, given that you are friends with Mickey. How did you manage to balance being a friend with being a filmmaker on this project? Was it complicated? Did you have to make decisions that were perhaps difficult on a personal level?

Dano García: Decisions were always made hand in hand with Mickey. I was able to create, let's say, my perspective of certain situations in the movie, I would show it to Mickey and she would give me her point of view. So, in some way, it was a very strong collaboration, and she was also guiding me with her intuition. I think that's why it was a very fun process.

For example, we would say: "Hey, let's do this emo sequence, let there be a bathtub of blood and a duck floating in it." And after the floating duck, we see the directors talking and saying: "Oh no!, They were satanic! It flew! Or I don't know what."I think the things that emerge intuitively come particularly from getting to play and from trust. I think that only films made with friends can achieve that intimacy and that creative freedom, because that's what my team is. We experimented, and Mickey also had fun in the process and experimented, or pushed us to play more. I think that's why the film is very free.

FICM: Finally, what message would you like the audience to take away after seeing Mickey?

Dano García: Well, freedom is contagious; when you dare to be yourself, everything around you changes, and that inspires others. So, I think that’s what it’s about: exploring it and pushing it to the limit—whether in your work, in cinema, or in whatever else you choose to do. Having that freedom to create, to be yourself.