The Berlinale has always been the gayest of the major European film festivals. Its Panorama sidebar is traditionally dedicated to queer cinema and the Teddy Award boasts an illustrious history that its counterparts in Cannes and Venice can’t compete with. As expected, the 74th edition of the festival once again features plenty of films dealing with LGBTQ themes in its lineup, bringing truths behind each of the alphabets vividly to life.
Premiering in competition, French director Claire Burger’s solo sophomore feature Langue Étrangère tells the story of German high-schooler Lena (Josefa Heinsius) and her French pen pal Fanny (Lilith Grasmug) who take turns staying with the other’s family as part of an exchange program. The baggage of language barrier, cultural prejudice and teenage angst doesn’t make it easy for the two girls to bond. Even trickier is the matter of the feelings they develop for each other as they journey together into adulthood.
This is one of those films that I enjoyed in spite of their imperfections. The script covers too much ground and can seem somewhat unfocused. In the first half where Fanny is staying at Lena’s in Leipzig, a lot of attention is given to Lena’s single mother Susanne (Nina Hoss) and the fraught family dynamics. In the second half where Lena is staying at Fanny’s in Strasbourg, depictions of the workings of local political groups take up much screen time. But even when the film feels unnecessarily busy or the narrative too distracted, it never lost me – thanks in large part to the excellent, star-making debut performance from Heinsius.
Playing a bored teenager doesn’t take much, but Heinsius’ portrayal of Lena gives credit to those Gen Z’ers who, while keeping up the too-cool-to-care appearance, are also attentive, eloquent, politically-minded. Lena is no model child, she’s convincingly irritable and rash, reminding you of every headaches-inducing adolescent you’ve met. And yet you can tell that even at her most impatient, she is registering and processing everything happening around her. Seen through her eyes, the world is a sea of madness that she’s trying to make sense of, and with the intense curiosity she brings to the role, you’d be happy to join the ride. It’s an intelligent, subtly calibrated performance that’s anything but one-dimensional.
The other major factor for the film’s abundant charm is Burger’s lively direction buzzing with youthful energy. Things move along at a brisk speed and the emotional beats of the story are handled with a skillfully light hand. Burger also has an evident knack for capturing the particular texture of burgeoning sensuality. In an intimate scene involving Lena, Fanny and a boy where the three make out in that giggly, blissfully carefree way unburdened by experience, nothing particularly risqué happens but the ecstatic horniness of the moment shines right through.
Langue Étrangère falls more on the mainstream side, which often means no jury love, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that Burger made a consistently enjoyable film that has a lot to say and introduces the revelatory performance of a promising new talent.
This year’s opener of the Panorama section is Georgian-Swedish director Levan Akin’s fourth feature Crossing, follow-up to And Then We Danced from 2019 which I adored. As such I’m happy to report that the love affair continues, for his latest film is another heartfelt, beautifully observed humanist drama that sheds light on the unpolished reality of queer life.
The story follows Lia (Mzia Arabuli), a retired teacher who sets out looking for her estranged niece Tekla, a trans woman ostracized from home. At the coastal Georgian town where Tekla used to live, a teenage boy who dreams of leaving and starting anew promises to help her track down Tekla. Together they travel to Istanbul and, with the help of trans lawyer Evrim (Deniz Dumanli), comb through the marginalized trans community in search of someone who may or may not wish to be found.
Part road movie, part mystery, Crossing pulls you in with engaging plot beats but unfolds with an unhurried grace that never cheapens the endeavor. The depiction of a community that’s gone mostly underground feels painfully authentic and with the discovery of each new clue, we get closer not only to the unknown main character, but also the truth about living as a trans person in a harsh, hypocritical world. What really sets the film apart, though, is that it’s not unrelentingly tragic but breathes joy and hope as well. It shows the camaraderie within a group constantly under threat and how those being attacked cope with the challenges with dignity and humor. In the process, Lia and the boy also make new connections in a foreign land and learn something essential about themselves.
Ultimately this film is about journeys. Journey across the Black Sea, the gender line, long-held prejudices. Akin’s writing is incisive but full of heart. You can tell he’s genuinely interested in each of the characters and the humanity of the piece glows. The ending, which has shades of All of Us Strangers, allows the fantasy of a re-do, of closure, and it’s just deeply, uncheesily moving. Arabuli gives an outstanding performance as a woman who’s realizing the mistakes she’s made and chances of love she’s missed late in her life. Carrying the whole movie with poise, charisma and emotions bubbling beneath the surface, you can’t take your eyes off her.
Confirming my belief that the best political movies tell human stories, Crossing never preaches; it speaks to empathy and decency. When there’s so much hate that seeks to segregate and deny, I for one am grateful for such merciful, quietly urgent storytelling.