On September 4th, 5th, and 6th, the ONA Film Festival returns to fuse outdoor and sports culture with the seventh art, enriching the already stunning San Servolo Island in Venice with a one-of-a-kind event. As per tradition, Athleta Magazine joins ONA as a media partner, shining its editorial spotlight on some of the Festival’s key voices.

We begin with Chinese filmmaker Yue Li, who will present his already multi-award-winning short ‘I Have No Legs, and I Must Run’ in the Venetian lagoon — a journey into the emotional universality of athletic failure, centered specifically on the world of running.

How did visual storytelling become part of your life, and why did you choose to follow that path artistically?

Yue Li: “It all began when I was a teenager. I remember watching a lot of movies. And then DVDs started coming out, they had those “making-of” features, the behind-the-scenes stuff. That changed everything for me. I thought, this is cool, I want to do this. I must’ve been around twelve, and honestly, I never let go of that dream. The more I learned about filmmaking, the more it became clear that this is what I want to do with my life.”

Do you remember what sparked that early fascination? A specific movie, director, or maybe a documentary?

Yue Li: “I think it was The Matrix. I was just a kid, I didn’t fully understand the story, but the experience of watching it in the cinema was unforgettable. It felt cool and immersive in a way I hadn’t encountered before. That was one of the earliest moments I thought, this is incredible.”

You grew up in China, then moved to London to study. What was your experience with visual storytelling in those different contexts?

Yue Li: “Growing up in China, I was definitely aware of all the great filmmakers who came before me: legends, really. But instead of wanting to follow in their footsteps, I felt the opposite. I didn’t want to imitate them. I knew I couldn’t compete with what they’d already done, and I didn’t want to. That pushed me to try and find something different: my own voice.

At the same time, I was a big fan of Hollywood movies. When I moved to London for school, I was exposed to all kinds of new influences: British cinema, music videos, graphic design, fashion, photography. Just walking through campus, you’d see amazing creative work everywhere. That had a big impact on me. It helped me start asking questions. I think that’s what all of us in the creative field are really chasing: something that feels genuinely personal, even if we can’t always define it.”

Let’s talk about sports. What kind of role did they play in your life growing up, and when did you realize that sports could be a powerful medium for storytelling, beyond the numbers and results?

Yue Li: “I was really into football: still am, actually. When I was a kid, I’d go to weekend training sessions, dreaming of becoming a footballer. Of course, that didn’t happen, but the love for the sport stayed with me.

Over time, I became more aware of how deeply sports stories resonate. They’re universal. Every athlete has a goal, a struggle, a desire to achieve something. You don’t have to explain much: the stakes are built in. And that makes it very cinematic.

I started out wanting to make something about running, purely because it felt visually compelling. I didn’t even have a full story in mind at first, just a feeling. Eventually, the story took shape, but interestingly, the final film doesn’t have any actual race scenes. There’s no official competition in the film. It became more about what the characters carry with them emotionally.”

There’s a long tradition of sport as national identity in China. Take its history at the Olympics, for example. What was like growing up and being surrounded by that national sports environment?

Yue Li: “In China, most professional athletes are state-funded. The goal is very clear: win medals, bring national pride. And when athletes succeed, they become national heroes. But it’s a double-edged sword. There’s a ton of pressure. The system often values winning above everything else.

I worked on a short film during the Winter Olympics, and even in relatively niche sports that don’t get much attention, I saw how much pressure the athletes were under. These were mostly kids, and they were already carrying the weight of a nation’s expectations. It was eye-opening.”

That duality really comes through in ‘I Have No Legs, and I Must Run,’ especially through the metaphors—like the pigs, for example. It feels like the film is not just about sport…

Yue Li: “For sure. That was very much at the core of it. In China, there’s a mindset: If you’re not the best, what’s the point? A lot of kids become athletes not because they love the sport, but because it’s a way out. Maybe they didn’t do well academically, and this became their path. But love for the sport isn’t always part of the equation.

The pressure is immense. That’s what I wanted to explore in the film: not just the winners, but the thousands of others who work just as hard and never make it. Not because they didn’t try hard enough, but because of injury, timing, or just bad luck. It’s tragic in a way. We celebrate the gold medalists, but behind every one of them, there are thousands of others whose stories we never hear.”

Have you ever felt that kind of pressure in your own life: as an artist or storyteller?

Yue Li: “Absolutely. When I was writing this film, I was about to turn 30. I hadn’t achieved the things I’d hoped to by then. I felt stuck. There’s pressure from yourself, from peers, from society. You look around and see younger directors doing incredible work, and you start comparing. It gets to you.

That’s part of why the film exists. It’s about sport, yes, but it’s really about something deeper and more universal. That feeling that you’ve given everything, and it still might not be enough. But you keep going. Because there’s something in you that refuses to quit.”

What about your visual approach—the use of color, the dialogue between light and shadow, and the precision of your cinematography? How central is image, and its experimental treatment, in your storytelling?

Yue Li: “Honestly, it’s everything. One of the reasons I fell in love with filmmaking in the first place was the idea that you can tell a story without relying on language, just through image and sound. That’s always been important to me, maybe because I’ve never felt completely comfortable expressing myself with words.

When I started working on ‘I Have No Legs, and I Must Run’ the first question was: how do I tell this story visually? I didn’t want to over-explain or rely on voiceovers. The athletes’ body language, their routines, their movements… that’s where the narrative lives. And then I started layering in dreamlike, surreal imagery to go deeper into their emotional state. Hopefully, that visual language says more than dialogue ever could.”

That sensibility really comes through also in the way you use space. Can you tell us something about that strange, slightly abandoned arena with basketball court markings? 

Yue Li: “I always start with location: what the space looks like, what it feels like. It’s not just backdrop; it’s part of the character. That stadium? It’s actually an old, half-abandoned basketball gym from the 1960s. One of my friends found it. There were trees and grass growing through the cracks. It was cheap to rent, so we cleaned it up just enough—but we kept that surreal, eerie vibe. I didn’t want the training scenes to feel like a conventional sports film. I wanted it to feel like a dream, or maybe a memory.”

‘I Have No Legs, and I Must Run’ has already won multiple awards around the world and is now being screened at the ONA Film Festival on San Servolo Island—a one-of-a-kind festival that merges deep storytelling, sport, outdoor culture and visual innovation. What does it mean for you to be part of a festival like this?

Yue Li: “I wish I could be there in person, but I’m currently caught up in commercial projects. Still, just being part of this festival, it means a lot. You almost never see high-level filmmaking and sports come together in such a thoughtful way. I’m really curious to see how audiences react, because it’s not a traditional sports film. It’s emotional. It’s weird. It’s personal. So I’m just grateful it found a space like this, where people can engage with it on that level.”

Join the ONA Film Festival, visit the website https://onafilmfestival.com/