Two women in search of a new life

It's no surprise that the struggling couple Isabell (Nina Hoss) and Philipp (Vincent Macaigne) split up at an airport, of all places. As a transit location par excellence, its waiting lounges offer many hiding places. Ina Weisse's film about two women and their existential quest deals obsessively with escape routes. At the airport, Philipp bursts into despair, and he abruptly abandons his partner. It's unclear what's going on; the two yell at each other for a moment, then he disappears. But the separation is only temporary, because this film understands transience as the fundamental condition of interpersonal relationships.

In tightly connected scenes, the film follows Isabell, who actually wanted to become an architect like her father. She works as a luxury real estate agent and commutes between Berlin and Brandenburg, where she has to take care of her parents' house and keep her crumbling relationship alive.

There she meets Anja (Saskia Rosendahl), a single mother who makes ends meet with various jobs. Her daughter grows up almost parentless and roams the countryside with other children, sometimes on dangerous paths. The two women know each other from the past, but only Anja remembers it. Something develops between them that is difficult to put into words.

Weisse also explores autobiographical elements here; Isabell's parents are played by her own parents. Her father actually worked as an architect. Matte colors dominate this summery world. The film proceeds subtly, demonstrating once again that hesitant characters are the strongest in German cinema.

The film's focus is on the characters, portrayed with tender restraint, and the spaces they live in. While it's by no means an architectural film, one gets a sense of the lifestyles embedded in buildings. Isabell finds her parents' house a burden, while Anja immediately feels at home in the light-filled rooms, and her daughter discovers the stairlift as a place for adventure.

The two women are attracted to each other, but a romantic relationship never develops—because the phone is always ringing or the child is crying. It seems as if the film's realism is intended to demonstrate how life constantly prevents us from pursuing the usual dramatic paths of cinema.

One can forgive the film for the fact that such scenes seem almost conceptual, and one can almost read the script. It's nicer that some things remain unexplained. The characters keep their secrets. This makes the camera all the more interested in the ambiguous glances of Hoss and Rosendahl, who both play to great effect by using the smallest of gestures to convey the unspoken.

The film doesn't preach, it simply shows what is. Class differences aren't negotiated; they simply exist. When Isabell gives Anja's daughter water wings, Anja becomes angry because she is sensitive to her wealthier friend's patronizing attitude. The big drama is always just a step away, but no one dares to take it.

"Cicadas" is told in the subjunctive, although the conflicts are quite concrete. Isabell's search for a suitable caregiver for her father is just as difficult as Anja's search for a job after she has to give up her job in a kitchen. Again and again, there are brief moments of mutual recognition between the characters. But it doesn't last. Nothing lasts; that's what defines "Cicadas."

In the cinema.