“My main goal was to make this film as light, bright, happy, loving and tender as possible”
– BERLINALE 2026: The Mexican director discusses how she ensured that her sad girls would still be full of joy
(© 2026 Dario Caruso for Cineuropa – dario-caruso.fr, @studio.photo.dar, Dario Caruso)
In Fernanda Tovar’s Sad Girlz [+see also:
film review
interview: Fernanda Tovar
film profile], screening in Generation 14plus at the Berlinale, BFFs Paula and La Maestra (Rocio Guzmán and Darana Álvarez) face their first big test after Paula is sexually assaulted at a party. Paula stays silent, but La Maestra wants the whole world to know about her friend’s suffering. A clash is inevitable.
Cineuropa: It can be so harmful when filmmakers suggest there’s no moving on from sexual assault. It’s not easy, but you also say: “You can survive it.”
Fernanda Tovar: My wish was to end on a hopeful note. Obviously, it’s hard. Paula is not over it, but we should think carefully about the narratives we’re telling around this topic, especially as women. I also know of films that claim your life is over when this happens and that there’s no future. There is a future. You can still occupy your space and live your dreams. It may change you, but you can have a luminous, hopeful, beautiful life.
You gave Paula a companion in La Maestra. There’s a loneliness that comes with this kind of experience, but here, she can’t hide from her friend.
Initially, the film was more about Paula. Then, I shifted the point of view. It’s important to talk about people who go through these assaults, but the amount of pain caused by something like this affects your closest relationships. La Maestra is more rational. She says: “We should report it; we should do something.” She’s a bit pushy. Sometimes, we think we know how to react, but when it actually happens, we don’t. If there’s anything I hope young girls take away from the film, it’s that they can do whatever they want, and it’s okay.
You start with so much joy, and then Paula slowly retreats. But it’s still full of sun, and crazy and loving supporting characters. Were you looking for light in this film?
My main goal was to make it as light, bright, happy, loving and tender as possible. I wanted to talk about this, but also to make sure you leave the cinema thinking life is still worth living. We should do it more: look for the good in the bad. Before the shoot, I read an article about a woman in Mexico who had experienced something similar. She said she felt that her right to happiness had been taken away. It touched me so deeply. Just think about it: the right to be happy.
It’s crucial to communicate that you can reclaim it. Otherwise, we would give too much power to the oppressors.
Exactly. When something like this happens, you feel powerless. Everything is against you – you don’t want to go out; you’re afraid. It’s especially important to recognise the agency and power you still have, or the power that comes with your family and friends. I like that you called them “crazy and loving”. I wanted male characters that would be empathetic and nice, and would want to be present. This isn’t about men versus women: we’re all in this mess. I don’t think the boy who hurt Paula feels okay about what happened either.
You mentioned the boy – you show how complicated sexual assault can be when committed by someone you know. Someone who continues to be around later on.
I didn’t want to show the exception to the rule, but to show the rule. This boy is immersed in the context of his sports team, and there’s bullying. He feels he’s not a “real man” until he has sex. Obviously, he’s the one to blame, and that’s a crime, but the cultural and social systems keep pushing these ideas onto boys and girls. If we keep pointing fingers at individuals, we’re going to have thousands of boys in jail, and nothing will change.
We should be asking bigger questions: how are we educating boys and girls so that they can break free from the pressures surrounding sex? That’s the engine that keeps gender violence alive. Argentinian sociologist and philosopher Rita Segato said that men don’t rape women because of women; they rape women because of other men. The patriarchal system is against all of us in the end.
The girls are swimmers. Sometimes, they don’t have to talk about what’s happening; they can just be together, submerged in the water. Why did you want to give them these moments?
Swimming makes you vulnerable in ways that other sports don’t. You have to wear a swimsuit and expose your body. After a sexual assault, you don’t want anyone near you. Yet La Maestra still has access to Paula’s body. She can hold her and swim with her. It was a way of saying: “You’re not alone, not even in your body.” You can still be hugged by a friend. I wanted this to happen in the water because it’s a beautiful metaphor for the things you can’t control.
There’s a lot of pressure to show female solidarity these days, but you’re honest about its ups and downs. La Maestra is supportive, but she doesn’t listen!
We talk about consent, but La Maestra reveals Paula’s secret without consent as well. You can’t support all women the same way. Paula needed silence and space, and her friend didn’t respect that. Rocio, who plays La Maestra, strongly disagreed with her character’s actions. Later, she started to understand her, but the whole cast and crew joined the conversation, and they were all conflicted. Now, the same thing is happening with the audience. Even today, if you asked me whose side I’m on, I wouldn’t know. I just want people to wonder what they would do in this situation.
