The Jewish International Film Festival in Malmö, Sweden, meant to be a celebration of Jewish culture and history, has been postponed after every major cinema in the city refused to screen its films, citing safety and security concerns. The decision, announced by festival organizers on October 19, 2025, has sparked a wave of disappointment, debate, and reflection about cultural expression, public safety, and the state of Jewish life in Sweden.
The festival, originally scheduled to run from November 29 through December 2, 2025, was set to mark an important milestone: 250 years of Jewish life in Sweden. According to the Associated Press, the event was founded just last year, and its second edition was intended to bring together filmmakers, audiences, and communities to celebrate Jewish heritage through cinema.
But those plans came to a halt when, as organizers stated in a post on the festival's website, they were “stonewalled by all commercial and arthouse cinemas in the city.” The refusal was not isolated to a single chain or venue. Instead, it spanned every major cinema in Malmö, from large commercial theaters to smaller independent houses. The organizers explained that, after reaching out to each venue, they were met with a consistent response: the festival could not be hosted due to concerns about safety.
“Some of the cinemas offered safety and security concerns for their refusal because they were worried something might happen to endanger their staff or audiences,” Ola Tedin, one of the festival's organizers, told Swedish broadcaster SVT, as reported by the Associated Press. It was a sentiment echoed by the country's largest cinema chain, Filmstaden, which issued a statement clarifying its position. “In this particular case, after thorough assessment, we concluded that we could not host the festival due to safety concerns,” Filmstaden said. “Our priority is always to ensure a safe and positive experience for both our guests and employees.”
The decision by Filmstaden, which was reportedly made as early as the spring of 2025, set the tone for other venues across Malmö. Organizers said that both commercial and arthouse cinemas alike declined to participate, leaving the festival with no viable location. While some venues pointed directly to safety fears, others offered little explanation. Notably, as of October 18, 2025, neither other cinemas nor the Swedish minister of culture had responded to requests for comment, according to the Associated Press.
The festival’s organizers expressed both frustration and gratitude in their public statement. “We were stonewalled by all commercial and arthouse cinemas in the city,” they wrote, acknowledging the collective refusal. However, they also noted they had received “heartwarming” support in recent days, suggesting that the setback had galvanized some members of the broader community. Rather than canceling outright, the organizers said they would “pause to gather strength” before resuming their search for a suitable venue.
The postponement has raised difficult questions about the intersection of cultural programming and security in contemporary Sweden. Malmö, in particular, has a complex history when it comes to Jewish life. The city is home to one of Sweden’s largest Jewish communities, but it has also seen a rise in antisemitic incidents over the past decade, prompting concern among both local residents and international observers.
While the festival’s organizers did not directly cite antisemitism as the reason for the cinemas’ reluctance, the context is hard to ignore. The fact that multiple venues, spanning the city’s entire cinema landscape, all declined to host the event out of fear for safety is a stark reminder of the challenges faced by minority cultural groups in Europe. The organizers’ statement that they were “stonewalled” by every cinema underscores the breadth of the problem.
Sweden has long prided itself on being a bastion of cultural openness and diversity. The Jewish International Film Festival was envisioned as a testament to that tradition, using film as a way to foster understanding, celebrate heritage, and build bridges across communities. The festival’s cancellation, even if temporary, has therefore struck a nerve—not only among Sweden’s Jewish population, but also among advocates for cultural freedom and expression.
The reaction from the broader public has been mixed. Some have expressed sympathy for the cinemas, noting that their primary responsibility is to ensure the safety of their staff and patrons. “Our priority is always to ensure a safe and positive experience for both our guests and employees,” Filmstaden reiterated in its statement, seeking to reassure the public that the decision was not made lightly or out of prejudice, but rather from a sense of duty to protect.
Others, however, have questioned whether the refusal to host the festival sets a troubling precedent. If cultural events can be shut down by threats—implied or explicit—does that not hand power to those who would seek to intimidate or silence minority voices? The festival organizers’ resolve to “pause to gather strength” before continuing their search for a venue reflects a determination not to let fear dictate the terms of cultural engagement. At the same time, the lack of immediate response from government officials and other cinema operators has left some observers wanting more leadership and reassurance.
The postponement also comes at a time when Sweden is reckoning with broader questions about security, integration, and the role of minority communities in public life. Malmö, as a city with a diverse population and a history of both vibrant cultural exchange and social tension, sits at the heart of this national conversation. The fate of the Jewish International Film Festival is now intertwined with these larger debates.
Looking ahead, the festival’s organizers say they will continue searching for a new venue. The outpouring of support they have received in recent days has bolstered their resolve, even as they acknowledge the practical challenges that remain. Whether the festival will take place later this year, or must be postponed further, remains to be seen. For now, the story serves as a microcosm of the difficulties—and the resilience—of those working to keep cultural traditions alive in the face of adversity.
As the organizers regroup and consider their next steps, the eyes of Sweden—and indeed, much of the international community—will be watching. The outcome will not only determine the fate of a single festival, but may also set the tone for how cultural events are handled in the country’s increasingly complex social landscape.
