Following As I Open My Eyes and A Tale of Love and Desire, Tunisian filmmaker Leyla Bouzid presents her third feature in the Berlinale Competition, drawing on the ongoing plight of queer people living under the shadow of homophobic laws and cultural customs.
In a Whisper (orig. À voix basse) begins with the unexpected death of the family's beloved Daly (Karim Rmadi) and the six days of mourning that follow, leveraging this period to explore the intertwined relationships within a Tunisian family.
The grievous news becomes the catalyst for Lilia (Eya Bouteraa), a self-reliant engineer working in Paris, to return to her hometown of Sousse. Even before the aeroplane lands, we sense her sorrow through close-ups of her face. This is not merely grief for her dead uncle, but something more complex whispered through her gaze upon the land.
Before Lilia enters the threshold, moments of spatial simultaneity bring her back to the time she spent with Daly during childhood. We then see a crowded household of extended family members awaiting another returning relative, among whom the most devastated is Daly's mother, Néfissa (Salma Baccar), the matriarch of the clan.
Several men prepare Daly's body, accompanied by traditional Muslim funeral rituals. At one point, an unsolicited stranger slips into the room and kisses Daly's forehead before the body is taken away. His furtive act hints at a tacit secret that Daly carried, one regarded as a source of disgrace for the family.
Shortly after the Janazah, Lilia's aunt Heyat (Feriel Chamari) discloses that Daly's death may have been the result of a homophobic attack, as he was found naked when he died. The truth unsettles Lilia, especially as her blonde and alluring girlfriend Alice (Marion Barbeau) arrives to comfort her, making the two women potential targets in this hostile environment.
While the police claim responsibility for investigating the case, the underlying motives for the crime remain largely ignored. Driven by confusion and anxiety, Lilia and Alice decide to uncover what happened on the night before Daly's death.
They visit a bar Daly frequently attended, but the patrons appear reluctant to speak. When they finally track down a close friend of Daly's, he flusteredly reveals the constant threats faced by homosexual people in the community.
Meanwhile, the funeral continues. Lilia serves guests like the dutiful granddaughter in Néfissa's eyes. Yet Alice's unforseen turn-up brings a slight sense of awkwardness into the household, particularly for Lilia's mother Wahida (a deeply affecting Hiam Abbass), whose sharp perception quickly detects the unusual closeness between the two women.
Although Lilia attempts to conceal the truth, Wahida knows it like the back of her hand. In a poignant scene where Lilia is confronted by her devastated mother, the two sit together in silence. In a slow and extended shot, the truth becomes as unmistakable as the cruelty one learns to endure. The scene reminds us how difficult it is for parents to accept their children's sexuality, not only as intimate family members but also as individuals shaped by social norms that frame such identities as abnormal.
Bouzid crafts a gripping story about acceptance, forgiveness, and respect, using brief yet powerful silences that linger in the audience's mind long after the film ends. She centres the narrative on three generations of women, each reacting differently to the unspoken secret buried within the family.
As the highest seniority, Néfissa's conventional beliefs are deeply rooted in the religious code of ethics, expressed through remarks such as "men downstairs, women upstairs." Wahida represents a middle-aged woman caught between tradition and change, hesitant to embrace new understandings of gender and sexuality. She encourages her brother to "be himself," yet when confronted with Lilia's identity, she responds with puzzlement and resentment.
Lilia, by contrast, embodies a modern generation of women who step into a more open-minded world while remaining tethered to a conservative past that demands reconciliation. Through these three characters, Bouteraa, Abbass, and Baccar deliver a distinctly restrained portrayal of how Tunisian women confront a crisis that affects the entire family.
Broadly speaking, In a Whisper can be regarded as a forcible coming-out story. By using the death of a gay man to create space for the possibility of a gay woman to come out of the closet in a conservative society, the film points to the ongoing struggles faced by queer communities culturally and politically.
This drama may unfold in Tunisia, but it could just as easily occur elsewhere in the world. In the tender and loving exchanges of gaze between Abbass and Bouteraa's performance, In a Whisper offers a cautiously optimistic ending for those still struggling with their parents, their communities, and their countries.
The film enjoyed its world premiere at the 2026 Berlinale.