Unforgiving love goes on a heartfelt battle with discrimination and exploitation in director Ian de la Rosa’s Iván and Hadoum, an unmissable cinematic treat in Berlinale Panorama this year.
They call love blind. They say it sets the heart racing, makes our eyes bloom like flowers. Yet love escapes both speech and dream. Enter director Ian de la Rosa, who brings us a masterfully crafted feature-length testament.
We witness Iván (Silver Chicón), diligent and devoted, laboring in a tomato factory. He is close to the boss, and his aim is unwavering: to become warehouse manager and secure a livelihood for his family. A new employee, Hadoum (Herminia Loh), joins the company and, coincidentally, she is Iván’s childhood classmate. Their eyes meet. Hearts sink. Love begins. But the question lingers — where can it lead when everyone around them stands against it, each in their own way?
Love, it seems, arrives with obstacles. Director Ian de la Rosa channels this through the story of a trans man and a non-native woman — two people whose very identities become reasons for others to judge, exclude, and oppose them. Seen through Iván’s world, the film captures the unspoken realities of trans living, from the weight of perception to the quiet transcription of love. These are truths seldom portrayed onscreen, often only felt inwardly. While it doesn’t strike with the same intensity as the film Close to You (2023), its power lies in quiet transcendence. Here, love moves through the screenplay not in waves, but in currents — steady, smooth, and unmistakable. Hadoum enters not merely as a love interest, but as Iván’s catalyst — the piece that completes him. Still, the contrast is undeniable, as she can appear self-centered, yet her love remains abundant. More than that, she is unyielding against injustice, a truth that crystallizes during the unplanned encounter with his parents. The collision between Iván and Hadoum’s worlds isn’t shown from a psychological standpoint but through universal human emotions, forever juggling self-interest and commitment — most vividly rendered from Iván’s perspective. Here, Yannick Leroy’s editing adds an exclamation mark to the frame, dividing love’s trajectory into chapters that whisper of fear, longing, and the spaces in between.
All of this invites deeper questions — how might families, across all backgrounds and beliefs, learn to open their hearts so that those who come after them can live and love authentically? If the heart is honest and the work is clean, should success not follow with less resistance? And yet, why is harshness so often the price of labor that pays so little? What protections are in place for skilled workers against accidents, both small and severe? Then comes another deeper question — how do you choose between love and responsibility when neither can be sacrificed? It is the very dilemma Marijana Janković presented in her 2026 IFFR film Home.
Berlinale Panorama, with its usual gold-plated selections, adds Iván and Hadoum, enclosing true and honest love within a pool of discrimination and exploitation, spotlighting how that very love can elevate the wonders of human existence. Magnetic love draws two hearts close through honest conversation, yet the same force can repel them, pushing them apart through external circumstances and personal responsibilities. With sharp dialogue and undeniable chemistry between Chicón and Loh, de la Rosa weaves diversity into the fabric of every scene, making Iván and Hadoum an unmissable cinematic treat.
Our team is on the ground at the 76th Berlin International Film Festival, running from February 12th to 22nd, 2026.
