Cicadas

Bluesky

Panicked single-mother Anja (Saskia Rosendahl) searches for her daughter. She calls out, but Greta's interest is consumed by the animal carcass she's poking with a stick. When she finds her, Anja isn't alarmed by her daughter's morbid and unsettling behaviour — she only reprimands her for running off. Cicadas' (Zikaden) story is a playground for Greta and her mischievous friends, which partially explains director Ina Weisse's choice of opening scene, but inside of it is a discreet metaphor.

The story revolves around Isabell (Nina Hoss), who abruptly realises that her childless marriage to Philippe (Vincent Macaigne) is in crisis. She flits between Berlin and her parents' modernist weekend house in Brandenberg, which was designed by her father, an accomplished architect whose career was cut short after a brain haemorrhage.

Isabell recognises the need to sell the house, which is only going to fall into disrepair given that her parents are no longer able to live independently. Her father, however, refuses to let go of this reminder of who he once was.

Meanwhile, Isabell encounters Anja, who has observed the family from a distance over the years. The two women, each with their own struggles, are in their own way wounded or dead animals being toyed with by fate, God, or some other all-encompassing force.

Cicadas is a particular type of story that carries within it the spirit or traditions of European arthouse cinema. It doesn't appear that Weisse is interested in crafting a narrative that will pander to expectations of what could or should happen. Instead, the director drops her audience into the lives of these two women and lets the rhythm of their lives guide the narrative. In so doing, Weisse never rushes to expose either Isabell or Anja's histories. Instead, details are revealed when they are ready to be shared, and not for the sake of characterisation and narrative. Weisse empowers her characters because the story emerges from them rather than the characters serving the narrative.

By the end of the film, we're still getting to know Isabell and Anja. This doesn't mean Cicadas lacks character development; rather, the opposite is true. Nothing has to happen to make the story or its characters whole. Instead, the lives in the story unfold with an unpredictability. This gives the characters a genuine inner life, if not layers. As in life, they struggle to find either the words or to share details that you'd expect given the nature of their relationship. Maybe this is because, on some level, both characters are reckoning with their reality. Isabell studied to be an architect and instead "helps people find special properties," while Anja dreamed of being a book dealer. Then there's the misfortune of the hopes and dreams Isabell shared with Philippe.

If the characters are reckoning with their fates, then it's appropriate that they don't fully share their inner selves with the audience. Weisse, who is non-committal, understands the value is in what could happen and not what actually happens. Her approach is complemented by Hoss and Rosendahl, whose performances go beyond words, where body language, a gesture, a subtle glance or a look in the eye, is filled with considered intent.

Weisse, Hoss and Rosendahl are not interested in explaining everything in detail. Instead, their interest lies in preserving Isabell and Anja's carefully constructed inner and outer lives, and how that establishes the rhythm of the story and offers a gentle but insightful critique of human nature.

This approach creates a space for the audience to enter the film and sit alongside the characters. We are, however, only privy to this episode in Isabell and Anja's lives — a brief encounter in a larger story. Like the act of people-watching, the object of our curiosity only disappears from our view. In Weisse's confident hands, Cicadas becomes the consummation of a voyeuristic relationship with its audience.

Cicadas played in the Panorama section of the 2025 Berlin International Film Festival.