Smells like GenZ spirits: Tales of Youth in "Foreign Tongue" and "Happyend"

Reflecting on my 2024 movie-going experience, I have discovered a fascinating connection between two new films. One is Foreign Tongue(original: Langue Étrangère), the latest work by French filmmaker Claire Burger, a French-German co-production that was selected for the Berlinale Competition this year. The other is Happyend, the impressive narrative debut feature by Japanese-American director Neo Sora, which premiered in the Horizons section at the Venice International Film Festival. Despite originating from vastly different cultural contexts and creative backgrounds, and following distinct festival strategies, these two films both intertwine the coming-of-age subgenre with contemporary political themes. Together, they offer a unique perspective on the political awakenings and consciousness of Generation Z in Europe and Japan, while providing a profoundly distinctive cinematic portrayal of youth in teen movies.

I watched Foreign Tongue at our local queer film festival. The story begins at the Leipzig train station in Germany, where French teenager girl Fanny arrives for an exchange program. There, she meets Lena, her German pen pal of the same age, who is interested in protest movements. The two girls attend high school classes on contemporary history and politics, while gradually bridging the gap between their emotional struggles and generational pressures through shared experiences. A few weeks later, Lena travels to Strasbourg, France, where their involvement in more intense protests deepens their relationship while also creating emotional turbulence. Their bond is tested by budding romantic feelings and misunderstandings, all delicately woven into a narrative that explores the contemporary socio-political realities in Europe.

Foreign Tongue employs a balanced two-part structure, with each half told from the perspective of one of the girls. Through their perspectives, the film pieces together a political landscape spanning across borders, reflecting the polarized political trends of far-right and far-left in modern-day Germany and France. The film also portrays family dynamics with striking realism: Lena comes from a conservative German family steeped in “Ostalgie” (the grandfather's nostalgia for East Germany), while Fanny, a biracial girl from an immigrant family with a Middle Eastern father, also faces her own challenges. These elements smoothly connects the typical themes of family and intergenerational relationships in teen movies with broader societal issues.

However, as Claire Burger emphasized during the Berlinale press conference, "Despite exploring a wide range of themes, Foreign Tongue is, above all, a love story." Based on her personal experiences living near the French-German border, Burger crafts a narrative where political themes enhance rather than overshadow the story. Thanks to the excellent performances of Lilith Grasmug (Fanny) and Josefa Heinsius (Lena), we see how the political and familial conflicts ultimately strengthen the girls' relationship. The bittersweetness of teenage love resonates deeply, culminating in a heartfelt moment where Lena and Fanny whispering "I love you" in each other's native languages.

Unlike Claire Burger's grounded portrayal of the emotions and lives of Gen Z teenagers in Europe, Neo Sora's Happyend presents a near-dystopian vision of a future Japan. Set in Tokyo after the year 2039, where fears of an impending catastrophic earthquake loom large, the story unfolds in a society where authoritarian tendencies are on the rise. The film's two protagonists, Yuta and Kou, are about to graduate from high school, but their carefree days are disrupted when a mischief on their principal results in the school installing a strict surveillance system. This suffocating level of monitoring, combined with the increasingly oppressive political climate, makes it impossible for the boys to return to the easygoing high school life they once knew.

Increasingly disillusioned by the world around him, Kou finds a kindred spirit in Fumi, a classmate deeply involved in political activism, while Yuta chooses to confront the school's disciplinary measures with a playful, rebellious attitude. The growing gap in their perspectives—Kou's political awakening versus Yuta's irreverent defiance—creates a rift between the two lifelong friends.

Most of the film takes place in the school, a microcosm that mirrors broader societal dynamics. The director draws on tropes from dystopian fiction, such as the portrayal of surveillance technologies and disciplinary mechanisms. The school's monitoring system regulates and even preempts individual behavior, echoing how authoritarian regimes extend control over daily life through technology and institutional design. The principal, representing an absolute authority, enforces obedience and order through a mix of rhetoric and prohibitions, stripping students of their freedoms. Against this backdrop, Kou's political awakening feels inevitable. Witnessing Fumi's participation in protests against the government's authoritarianism outside the school lays the groundwork for Kou's involvement in student-led acts of resistance, including a petition to remove the surveillance system and a sit-in outside the principal's office.

What I particularly appreciate about Happyend is its depiction of "political awakening" as more than just engaging in "political" protest movements. The film also explores how Yuta and other students, resist the school's authority through a playful, almost anarchistic spirit. Their instinctive refusal to comply with the system represents a different kind of awakening—a form of micro-resistance against power structures. Though less serious or intense than Kou and Fumi's actions, I see this as an equally valid form of dissent. By featuring a dual-protagonist structure, the film challenges the notion of a singular path to political consciousness and highlights the diverse ways Gen Z responds to societal and political issues.

Like Foreign Tongue, Neo Sora doesn't reduce Happyend to just its political themes. Instead, the film uses its plot to observe the fluid and evolving emotions of adolescence. The challenges faced by Yuta and Kou are profoundly "adult," and they both seem to grasp, in their own way, that the changes in the world and their diverging perspectives might make it impossible to return to the carefree intimacy they once shared. Yet, in the end, they choose their own very teenager-like way to tell each other: "Don't worry. Our friendship matters more than anything else." In post-screening discussions, Neo Sora often spoke about infusing the film with his own experiences and understanding of friendship. He even considered a more dramatic ending for the story but ultimately kept the current version, where Yuta and Kou diffuse the tension between them through an inside joke they've shared. Perhaps this is what inspired the title, Happyend. I love this ending—with laughters and tears, it also reflects the tenderness the director feels for his characters.

Once again, I feel that both Foreign Tongue and Happyend skillfully weave political themes into the framework of teen movies. The directors collaborated closely with Gen Z actors to portray how this generation comes of age, gradually awakening to societal, historical, and political realities, and learning to articulate their understanding.
Beyond this, these two films also remind me of a longstanding cinematic tradition. It's easy to trace a lineage of films in French cinema that directly depict young people's involvement in political movements, especially about the student movements of the 1960s and 70s: Jean-Luc Godard's La Chinoise (1967), Andre Techine's The Wild Reeds (1994), Bernardo Bertolucci's The Dreamers (2003), Philippe Garrel's Regular Lovers (2005), and Olivier Assayas's Après Mai (2012). Similarly, the Japanese New Wave of the 1960s frequently explored the intersection of youth and political activism, with Nagisa Oshima's Night and Fog in Japan (1960) standing out as one of the boldest and most experimental examples. While Foreign Tongue leans toward realism and Happyend incorporates soft sci-fi elements, I see both films as engaging in a dialogue with their respective national cinema histories and traditions.

As a member of Generation Z myself, I feel truly wonderful to see my experiences so thoughtfully captured on screen by such talented and insightful filmmakers! I wish in 2025 there could also be more films like these!