“In a world where speech is forbidden, a voice becomes an act of intimacy,” director Joecar Hanna told us, as we discussed Talk Me, presented at the 78th Cannes Film Festival.
This is the premise of Talk Me, Joecar Hanna’s haunting and poetic short film, which premiered at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival in the La Cinef section. Set in a fictional society where verbal communication is private and taboo, the film follows Pedro—a quiet outsider in a passionless marriage—as he finds unexpected emotional intimacy through conversation alone.
We sat down with Joecar Hanna in Cannes to talk about emotional danger, cultural in-betweenness, and how Spike Lee’s unexpected support shaped the journey of the film. Joecar, who also plays the lead role, opens up about what it means to tell a deeply personal story through metaphor—and why some of the strongest relationships begin with just a voice.
Polina Grechanikova: In Talk Me, words don’t bring people closer—they seem to separate them. What made you want to explore this idea? And how do you think it reflects how we talk today?
Joecar Hanna: This is how I usually like to tell stories: I start from something deeply personal, something that really affects me, and then I try to hide it as much as I can—disguise it inside a metaphor. With Talk Me, I wanted to explore the quiet, invisible pain of people who belong somewhere but carry multiple identities. People who speak the same language, live in the same place, sound like everyone else—but still feel, in subtle and often unspoken ways, that they don’t fully belong. That’s the core of the film.
It’s hard to talk about this kind of pain, because it’s not dramatic enough to be a tragedy, but it’s also not a privilege. It’s something in between. That “in-betweenness” is really hard to articulate—and I didn’t want the film to feel like a heavy-handed message. That’s why I decided to build a fable—a metaphorical world where this feeling could exist universally.
To make it resonate, I flipped two things we all understand: sex and talking. In this world, speech becomes the taboo, the forbidden intimacy. And beyond that, I also wanted to explore human contradiction. These characters live in a reversed world, but they’re not heroic. They’re messy, like all of us. Even in this new system, they want to run from the rules. That tension really interests me.
Polina Grechanikova: Pedro, the main character, finds comfort in music. Why did you choose music as his escape? What does sound mean in a story where words feel painful?
Joecar Hanna: In the world of the film, people are only allowed to speak with their romantic partners or the people they’re seeing. So when you’re alone, speech becomes this forbidden desire—something you’re not supposed to do publicly. That’s where music comes in. I don’t want to say it’s like porn, but it becomes a kind of drug.
It’s symbolic. Listening to music is a way of having someone speak to you when you can’t be spoken to. It’s a voice that shares something with you, and in that world, that’s both intimate and illicit. That’s why there’s a taboo around speech in public, and that’s also why people in the film go out to buy records—because they want that emotional fix.
The music in Talk Me doesn’t use instruments at all. It’s all a cappella, because the only thing that matters is the voice—someone telling you something, directly, vulnerably. Visually, I also wanted it to feel sensual. That’s why everything looks red. There’s something hidden, private, even erotic about it—without being explicit.
Polina Grechanikova: The film shows a strong feeling of being lost or out of place. Pedro feels far from everything. Since you come from different cultures, does that shape your storytelling? Is it more like a gift or a wound?
Joecar Hanna: Yeah, absolutely. My background is very mixed—my mother is Chinese, and my father is Lebanese, Brazilian, and Nigerian. I was born in Equatorial Guinea and later moved to Spain, where I grew up. So it’s this wild mix of cultures and identities. Growing up in Spain 25 years ago wasn’t easy. And that experience really shaped my perspective—and, of course, how I approached this film. There’s this constant, subtle feeling of being slightly outside, even when you’re inside. Like, yes—I walk the same streets, go to the same grocery stores, people know me, but somehow, I don’t connect the same way.
If you look closely in the film, you’ll see little moments that reflect that. In one scene, a woman kisses another character very passionately—but when she kisses Pedro, it’s just a quick peck. At the wedding, everyone’s greeting each other warmly, but when they get to Pedro, they just touch his face, almost like an afterthought.
These are small details, but they’re very intentional. It’s the experience of being visible and yet not fully seen. That tension—between being part of a place and still being perceived as different—has always been part of my life. When I speak Chinese in China, people are surprised. When I speak Spanish in Spain, it’s the same. There’s always this “Oh—wait, you’re not what I expected.”
Polina Grechanikova: Pedro and Kira share something special—not through touch, but through talking. Some might call it an emotional relationship. What made you focus on this kind of intimacy? Do you think emotional closeness can be more risky than physical?
Joecar Hanna: Absolutely. You nailed it—that relationship is purely emotional. It’s not sexual at all. I actually designed the film to visually express what emotional connection looks like. They’re emotionally naked in front of each other, but they never physically touch. That contrast was very intentional.
And yes, I do think emotional relationships can be even more risky. Emotional connection is what creates real vulnerability. It’s what opens the door to deeper entanglement—both the good and the harmful kind. You can’t fall into a toxic or abusive relationship just through physicality. That kind of emotional bond—that’s what creates prisons. You can’t have something like Stockholm syndrome without emotional intimacy. That’s where trauma comes in, where people’s unresolved pain gets activated. Emotional bonds touch something deeper.
So yes, I believe emotional connection can be far more dangerous. And it’s funny—when I first started working on the story, I was joking with a friend. She said, “I wish they just slept together one night and got it over with!” But what really hurt her was the idea of someone texting another person for three months. That slow emotional build-up—that’s what really cuts deep.
And that’s what I’m playing with in Talk Me. In the film, the husband is far more upset about Pedro and Kira singing together than if they had kissed. That’s the betrayal. Because in this world, song equals confession, song equals intimacy. So it also becomes a comment on how arbitrary our social conventions are. We decide which behaviors count as betrayal. But if you flip the rules, like I do in the film, we still end up in the same emotional place. That’s what fascinates me.
Polina Grechanikova: Spike Lee is a big name, and he supported your film as executive producer. How did that happen? And what did his support mean to you as a young filmmaker?
Joecar Hanna: Yeah, of course! I studied at NYU, and Spike teaches there during the final year. He saw my previous short film—the one I made before Talk Me—and he really liked it. He wanted to support my work going forward.
So when I started developing Talk Me, I sent him the script, and he responded very positively. He helped fund the project and, after watching the finished film, he gave me his blessing to list him as Executive Producer. That meant a lot to me—because he truly believed in the project and supported it from the beginning. He’s been incredibly generous and kind. I’m so grateful. And now, being in Cannes with a film that has his name attached—during the same year that he’s premiering his own film here—it feels surreal. Honestly, it’s a huge honor to share space with him here.
Polina Grechanikova: You did almost everything in Talk Me—writing, directing, editing, and acting. That’s a lot. How did you manage all of that? And what was the hardest part about acting in your own film?
Joecar Hanna: Honestly, the hardest part in this film wasn’t acting or directing—because in my previous short, Deliver Me, I played three different characters at the same time. After doing that, acting just one role in Talk Me actually felt kind of easy! (laughs)
But what was new and challenging this time was the physical interaction with other actors. There were scenes that required a level of closeness and intimacy, and I really wanted everyone to feel safe and comfortable. So the very first person I called was an intimacy coordinator. That was really important to me. Thankfully, the actors understood what we were doing and why. They trusted me with the process, and I truly hope I earned that trust—that they didn’t think I was just some weird guy trying to make an erotic film. (laughs)
It was all about creating a safe and respectful environment, especially when you’re directing yourself while also being emotionally and physically present in a scene. That balance is hard—but I think we managed to do it right.
Our reporters are on the ground in Cannes, France, to bring you exclusive content from the 78th Cannes Film Festival—explore our coverage here.
