‘Sad Girlz’ Berlinale Review: The Breaking Point of Innocence

Everything seems close to ideal in the lives of Paula and La Maestra, two 16-year-old friends who go to school together, party with the same group of friends, and share one of those symbiotic bonds in which sentences are finished and thoughts anticipated without effort. They are also members of an elite Mexican swimming team training for the Junior Pan American Games in Brazil. Beyond that, the two inhabit a kind of private universe of their own, complete with shared codes, language, and imagination—until one day that world begins to fracture, for reasons that prove deeply painful.

In this subtle and perceptive film about an adolescence that suddenly becomes unexpectedly complicated, Fernanda Tovar conveys something like a state of mind: a distinctly teenage way of perceiving the world, attentive to detail and shaped by lateral thinking. Built out of tight, intimate, observational close-ups, Chicas tristes—winner of the Generation 14plus section at the Berlinale—unfolds through fragments: whispered conversations, dance or rap rehearsals, bursts of laughter, fleeting moments of intimacy.

Yet the party that opens the film also conceals a problem whose emotional weight gradually comes into focus. That night, Paula (Danara Alvarez) has her first sexual experience with a fellow swimmer. Her friend wants to know everything—details, sensations, a full account of what happened. But Paula remains evasive, downplaying the encounter and suggesting that it may not have meant much to her, that perhaps sex is not such a big deal after all. It soon becomes clear, however, that the experience was far more complicated than she lets on.

Tovar is less interested in the incident itself than in its emotional aftershocks—how it reshapes Paula’s inner life and destabilizes the friendship between the two girls. In some ways, La Maestra (Rocío Guzmán) emerges as the film’s true protagonist: the one who struggles to understand how to respond to what has happened and who, in trying to help, ends up further complicating their relationship. Paula would rather remain silent and move forward, even questioning her own interpretation of events. Her friend takes the opposite stance, leaning toward speaking up. As the qualifying rounds for the competition approach—and a solar eclipse looms—the bond between them begins to splinter.

A film about the loss of innocence, Sad Girlz is an observational work filled with striking compositions shaped by a refined mise-en-scène operating on multiple parallel layers. It moves within territory reminiscent of fellow Mexican filmmaker Lila Avilés, privileging mood and sensation over conventional narrative progression. Even so, Tovar does not abandon storytelling altogether. Despite occasional touches of aestheticism or the kind of emphatic metaphor one might associate with a debut feature, the film gradually becomes a portrait of two friends and of the emotional rupture that occurs when what once felt like the entire world suddenly reveals a darker, more unsettling side.

The two lead actresses are essential in keeping the film grounded. Their friendship feels credible, honest, and emotionally solid—so when it begins to unravel, through what is said and left unsaid, through guilt and fear, the sense of tragedy is palpable for both of them. That emotional anchor prevents the film from becoming a mere collection of sensitive vignettes and distances it from more conventional issue-driven storytelling. Paradoxical as it may sound, Sad Girlz is both a delicate film about strength and a fragile story about resilience—qualities that make it feel distinctive, deeply personal, and entirely its own.