There isn’t a part of the tomato warehouse where the title characters of “Iván & Hadoum” work that doesn’t go unused by writer/director Ian de La Rosa. The two are separated by their different roles at the factory where women work the line, sorting tomatoes into cartons, and men operate the forklifts that load crates into trucks, but after striking up a romance, the two tuck into various corners of the building, most significantly an accompanying greenhouse where the temperature is tracked by an infrared censor and de la Rosa finds a clever way to observe the heat between them. A description may make it sound like de la Rosa is doing a little too much, but in fact shifting the burden from the people to the places they inhabit to express their experience in ways they might not be able to articulate for themselves proves keenly insightful in delicate drama about star-crossed lovers.
It becomes a frequent refrain in de la Rosa’s debut feature for Iván (Silver) and Hadoum (Herminia Loh Moreno) to talk about how it’s hard to imagine themselves anywhere else but the provincial seaside Spanish town they live in, which is understandable when such declarations are made on the beach where it is unrelentingly serene. But the two face choppy waters elsewhere, made to feel like misfits by the community around them who don’t overtly disapprove of them either individually or as a couple, yet will bring up how they’re different if they seem to step out of line. It isn’t until a bar owner preemptively cuts off the mic at a karaoke night in a largely empty establishment that anyone would know why Iván and Hadoum aren’t exactly welcome in the town that in fact both grew up in, but when Hadoum’s heritage as a Moroccan who crossed the border is brought up as a reason for not wanting to amplify her singing, so too is Iván’s gender orientation, dismissed as a “hybrid” by the barkeep after transitioning from a woman to a man, when he tries to defend his co-worker.
While the two may be looked down upon by others and their connection is surely assisted by a feeling that they’re outsiders, de la Rosa refreshingly doesn’t see either Iván and Hadoum without power, particularly when Iván stands to become a prominent figure at the tomato plant that’s owned by his uncle Manuel (Nico Montoya) and is one of the town’s major employers. Still, a promotion to warehouse manager is what may jeopardize a burgeoning romance with Hadoum when she is well-liked by co-workers and could prove crucial to swinging support for or against plans by Manuel to sell the business, likely leading to layoffs for the lowest rungs of labor. The easy acceptance that the two have for one another allows for a frankness that they’re far more reluctant to express publicly and the film doesn’t limit the idea to the two of them, but the comfort they have within other groups as well, whether it’s their immediate families or who they are surrounded with at work, though when either tries to enter the other’s world, it tends to go badly.
The intimacy de la Rosa summons isn’t only an alluring part of the film, but a crucial one when it shows how tribal people can be yet even the most extreme prejudices can be set to the side by a personal connection – one that the film itself ends up forging. Beatriz Sastre’s sun-dappled cinematography and the unforced performances from Moreno and Silver prove disarming, but perhaps most ingratiatingly, like its characters, “Iván & Hadoum” doesn’t demand to be liked as the two face difficult decisions about their future together and have spent enough time building up a tolerance to going it alone that they don’t necessarily need anyone else. Still, no matter what direction they end up going in, they can rest assured that the path will feel a little less lonely and compassion will ultimately come.
“Ivan and Hadoum” will screen again at Berlinale on February 14th at 10 am at Urania, February 15th at 3:45 pm at Cubix 7, February 19th at Filmtheater am Friedrichshain, February 20th at 5 pm at Urania and February 22nd at 10:30 pm at Zoo Palast.