
LEYLA BOUZID | TUNISIA + FRANCE | 2026 | 112 MIN | FRENCH + ARABIC EST
LEYLA BOUZID | TUNISIA + FRANCE | 2026 | 112 MIN | FRENCH + ARABIC EST
Subtitles: English
Atmospheric tension imbues À voix basse: a family mystery that follows Lillia (in the magnetic debut performance of Eya Bouteraa) as she leaves Paris, where she works as an engineer, to return to her hometown in Tunisia for her uncle’s funeral. Upon arrival, there is another recent death in the family to contend with, adding to the list of reminders to not be forward, in any way, with any orientation besides heterosexual. Comic relief lightens the mood when Lillia makes a half-hearted attempt to introduce her beautiful girlfriend—who has joined her all the way from Paris—to her family as merely a concerned and loyal roommate. In parallel to the discovery that Lillia’s uncle (who was also gay, but as an open secret), died under mysterious circumstances, Lillia and her girlfriend’s sapphic love is either dismissed as ‘not to be taken seriously’, or met with cold disapproval; particularly by her mother Wahida (played poignantly by Hiam Abbas). Fluid time transitions create a seamless journey between past and present as the family history unfolds, piecing together tales of heartbreak, betrayal, and the courage needed to overcome it.
Leyla Bouzid was born and raised in Tunis. She moved to France for higher education, studying literature at the Sorbonne before cinema and directing at La Fémis. Her first feature, As I Open My Eyes, was released in 2015 and received a prize at the Venice International Film Festival as well as more than forty international awards. Her second feature, A Tale of Love and Desire, was selected as the closing film of Critics' Week at the 2021 Cannes Film Festival. In a Whisper, her third feature, was presented in the Official Competition at the 2026 Berlinale.
It is an opportunity for me to represent and film the love of these two women as no film has yet explored female homosexuality in an Arab and Muslim territory. It is absent from representation. Therefore it has no identification, no existence, no body. […] Through this love story, I want to suggest the focus shifts from what is forbidden to the beauty and intensity of feelings experienced. […] Cinema, through representation and identification, allows us to open closed doors, to give an existence to those who are forced to hide.
Caroline Nataf
Leyla Bouzid