76th Berlin International Film Festival: In Conversation with Ian de la Rosa, Director of “Iván & Hadoum”

Set against the sun-soaked landscapes of southern Spain, Iván & Hadoum, directed by Ian de la Rosa, tells a love story connected as much by place and everyday life as by desire and identity.

Through small but meaningful moments, like reclaiming the word “hybrid,” the film quietly shows trans identity as something defined by choice and desire. Here, love becomes a way of pushing back against the pressures of language and society.

The film looks at rejection, fear, and internalised prejudice in a careful, gentle way, showing that these cycles aren’t overcome by confrontation alone, but through the lasting possibilities of love. Ian’s own experience as a trans person helps the film show parts of queer life that are often overlooked. In this way, it shows a side of queer cinema that is real and human, without being preachy or just for show.

During the festival, we caught up with the director and talked about the film, its narrative, the themes it explores, and the creative process behind it. We also discussed the challenges of bringing queer stories to the screen and what the director hopes audiences will take away from the film.

View of the Arts: Could you tell us about the first spark for this story, an observation, a moment? Did the character come first, or the place? And at what point did you realise this would be a queer story?

Ian de la Rosa: The first time I thought about this story was when I finished my graduation short film, Víctor xx, ten years ago. That’s when I wondered what it would be like to tell a love story set against the backdrop of agribusiness in southern Spain. In that sense, the character came first, but the character was always tied to the setting where the story takes place. They couldn’t be separated. Queerness is an intersection that is part of me and will always be present in one way or another in the films I make.

VOA: The word “hybrid” is striking. Does it reflect something specific to that local context, or a broader social tendency to police gender and trans identity in Spain?

IR: “Hybrid” is simply a transphobic slur that came up during the writing process. It refers to the trans aspect of Iván’s character. For me, the most important thing about that slur is that the character himself reclaims it by using it in a different context, and then it’s returned to him as a compliment by Hadoum’s character. It’s a very simple little plot point that happens at the beginning of the film, but I thought it was interesting and even fun to show, in a very straightforward way, how we can reframe the transphobia we might face through love and desire.

VOA: The film tells us little about Hadoum’s past, where she comes from, and what shaped her. How would you define her character? What kind of person did you envision her to be?

IR: Hadoum is a character with a lot of personality and strength. While writing the script, she was a character who easily dominated every plotline and scene she appeared in. So much so that at one point, I had to carefully control and limit his presence so she wouldn’t “steal” the show from Iván. Beyond this characteristic strength of Hadoum’s, the character shares with Iván’s character a trans identity in terms of transculturality. Unlike Iván, she is a character who has indeed suffered “sexile” for living out her sexual freedom and desire without regard for the prejudices and expectations surrounding her. She has endured the misogyny and machismo of a society that stigmatizes women who engage in sex freely.

VOA: Hadoum’s family suggests Iván’s family may never accept her. What layers are behind that fear, class, ethnicity, or something else?

IR: I wanted to explore how rejection stems from the fear of being rejected. When you experience rejection and discrimination, one way to protect yourself is by rejecting and discriminating against another group you don’t know or toward which you hold prejudices. In just a few lines, I wanted to show how fear feeds on itself. And how the only possible response and protection against this is love.

VOA: There’s a line, “You knew me when I was a girl.” What did you want that conversation to reveal?

IR: On the one hand, I wanted to portray Iván as a character who isn’t ashamed of his past and who accepts his previous gender without hesitation. Furthermore, I wanted the audience to arrive at the first sex scene already knowing that Iván is trans, thereby avoiding any objectification of the protagonists’ sex or Iván’s body. I wanted to steer clear of any clichés or taboos surrounding sex and trans bodies that I’ve seen in other films.

VOA: The chemistry between Hadoum and Iván comes naturally and blushing, how did you help Silver Chicón and Herminia Loh to build trust and intimacy on set – through rehearsal, improvisation, or specific boundaries?

IR: We spent two and a half months rehearsing before filming with acting and intimacy coach Mar Isern. In that regard, intimacy protocols were followed, and the scenes were choreographed and agreed upon. Even in the script, I wanted to portray the sex between the two protagonists as a narrative form of sex where we delve into the desire and love they develop for one another throughout the film. There is a crescendo in their intimacy that parallels the crescendo of tension in the workplace plot.

VOA: The casting for Iván is brilliant, but the film never makes a show of casting a trans actor to play a trans character. Was that part of your design to let the audience sit with the character first, before any labels?

IR: Yes, you could put it that way. We were clear that we didn’t want to emphasize or specify the transgender aspect of Iván’s character. It’s part of his identity, but it’s not the central or most important aspect. The character’s real dilemma has to do with his social class and how far he would be willing to go to secure a better home for his family. Whether he is capable of betraying his social class and himself for a promotion, or for the true and deep love he feels for Hadoum. Everything else is nuances, details, layers of personal and social identity that surround the characters, but not the core of the story.

VOA: When portraying a trans character and community prejudice, how did you approach ethics, for instance, what to show, what not to show, and who gets to decide?

IR: I’ve spent years researching and watching films featuring trans characters. I’ve read about trans representation in cinema and had conversations with fellow members of the trans community and the film industry. Furthermore, as a trans person myself, I had very specific needs regarding the representation of trans stories and characters: I felt that sex and the agency to desire were rarely depicted, and when they were, they were often punished. The suffering of the trans character for being trans is also often repeated. Lying and hiding one’s own identity and body, rejection by family and society…

We wanted to consciously avoid all of this and tell, as simply and profoundly as possible, a love story that I would have loved to see in my childhood or adolescence. And in my adulthood, too. That is one of the great powers and responsibilities of cinema: to create role models and stories where we can all feel represented.

Interviewed by Jane Wei

_{View of the Arts is an online publication dedicated to film, music, and the arts, with a strong focus on the Asian entertainment industry. As we continue to grow, we aim to deepen our coverage of Asian music while remaining committed to exploring and celebrating creativity across the global arts landscape.}