Film Review | “A voix basse“ and “Der Heimatlose“   Lies, lies, lies

Two films, two stories of return – and the insight that lies do not have to be spoken aloud. Sometimes they lie in silence. Sometimes in memory. And sometimes in what a community is willing to believe.

The two returnees from the Berlinale films À voix basse (In a Whisper, 2026) and Der Heimatlose (The Homeless, 2026), Lilia and Hein, grapple in different ways with a significant question: Who am I if my own people do not (or no longer) recognise me?

Family secrets

In the Tunisian film À voix basse, the conflict between the main character Lilia's chosen path in life and her family's expectations is clear from the very first scene. Lilia flies from Paris to Tunis. Shortly after the plane lands at Tunis-Carthage, she looks out of the window with a strained and sceptical expression, while her partner smiles at her cheerfully. The reason for the trip to Tunisia is the funeral of Lilia's uncle. Upon arrival, numerous childhood memories come flooding back. And she strictly separates her two lives – here in Tunisia, there in Paris: Lilia's partner moves into a hotel during the stay. 

In the course of the film, Lilia discovers that her late uncle loved a man but kept his homosexuality secret out of fear. In Tunisia, homosexuality is punishable under Section 230 of the Code pénal (Criminal Code). The realisation of how frightened and intimidated her uncle had been eventually leads Lilia to question the authenticity of her behaviour and to openly profess her love and stand up for it in her country of birth. This is evident, among other things, in the scene in which Lilia asks a police officer to arrest her because she is a lesbian. The officer is irritated and replies that the law does not apply to women.

Lilia is confronted with the reasons why she left Tunisia: closed societies, patriarchal structures, homophobia. Her circle in Tunisia is primarily interested in when the 32-year-old woman will finally get married and become a mother. The fact that she is a successful engineer is rather ridiculed by other family members in the context of family planning.

Director and screenwriter Leyla Bouzid uses warm colours and atmospheric images to tell stories from everyday life in Tunis. In À voix basse, she presents a family story about suppressed truths and questions the traditional role of women without harsh judgement. Instead, the character of Lilia complements the female roles in the different generations of her family.

Erased from memory

In Der Heimatlose (2026), the main character named Hein also returns to his homeland after 14 years – in this case, a small island with a manageable population. However, after his return, Hein is allegedly not recognised by the community. A village court is convened to confirm his identity.  Der Heimatlose, Kai Stänicke's feature film debut, is reminiscent of a play in its structure and style, a drama about identity and collective memory. This impression is not only due to the unusual, recited-sounding language. It is also because the houses shown are all roofless, containing only the bare essentials and reminiscent of theatre props. This is a concept already familiar from Dogville, Lars von Trier's 2003 film. The colours in Der Heimatlose are harsh and dark, and watching it makes you feel almost a little cold.

The role of the mother 

The respective mothers play a central role for both Lilia and Hein as emotional anchors and first points of contact after their return. But are those who love us the most also those who test us the hardest? Lilia finds it particularly difficult to admit to her mother that she is a lesbian. “I'm still your daughter,” she assures her mother after coming out. 

Hein also seeks out his mother first to prove his identity and have an ally on his side. However, when she dies, he is left almost alone. It takes him a while to change his perspective, to see the whole court scenario through the eyes of his opponent and thus influence the trial against him in his favour. The film has another turning point in store when Hein recognises himself, his homosexuality and thus his own truth in his memory. 

Director Kai Stänicke grew up in a small village in North Rhine-Westphalia in the 1990s. He admitted that in his youth he often felt he couldn't be himself. That only changed when he moved to Berlin. In the Q&A after the film's world premiere at the Berlinale, Stänicke's mother spoke from the audience: “I just wanted to tell you that I love you, no matter what you do.” The room grew warm. 

Recognising oneself in one's homeland

Two films that quietly and impressively address origins and self-determination, memory, but also the courage to assert one's own identity, even when everyone around you doubts it. Returning home often means holding up a mirror that connects the past with the present self. Truth comes to light when distance has been created beforehand. Because the tension that arises exerts pressure. The feeling that remains: catharsis.

February 2026