75th Berlin International Film Festival (Berlinale): Four Days, Five Films, One Sleep-Deprived Cinephile

There’s something oddly satisfying about surrendering yourself to cinema for four straight days. No Zooms. No decks. Just a badge, a Berlinale bag, and a crammed schedule that would terrify even the most seasoned cinephile.

This year, I flew into Berlin with one mission: get a proper hit of festival madness. And somehow, across less than 100 hours, I watched five films, scribbled half-legible notes, and even made it to a few press briefings without spilling coffee on anyone important.

The 75th Berlin International Film Festival (Berlinale) was chaos in the best way. Crowds. Queues. Critics. And that particular brand of German efficiency that ensures everything starts exactly on time, even if you’re still peeling yourself out of an Uber.

Here’s what made the cut:

• Satanische Sau (Satanic Sow) – A feral, uncomfortable descent into inherited guilt and rural hysteria. It left the cinema in stunned silence. I wasn’t sure whether to clap or call my therapist.
  Full review: moey.blog/satanic-sow
• Lesbian Space Princess – Camp. Chaos. Cosmic queerness. Berlinale is known for giving screens to voices often sidelined, and this one felt like a love letter to outsiders everywhere.
  Full review: moey.blog/lesbian-space-princess
• Hot Milk – Possibly the most visually gorgeous coming-of-age story I’ve seen in a while. Sensual, strange, and soaked in a kind of lazy heartbreak.
  Full review: moey.blog/hot-milk
• Mickey 17 – Bong Joon-ho returns and proves again that he’s not just playing the Hollywood game—he’s rewriting it. Part satire, part sci-fi existentialism, all spectacle.
  Full review: moey.blog/mickey-17
• Das Licht (The Light) – A slow-burn German film that haunted me long after. Quiet grief, family tension, and cinematography that almost felt holy.
  Full review: moey.blog/the-light

In between screenings, I sat in on a few press releases, half out of curiosity, half just trying to find a quiet room with decent Wi-Fi. It was inspiring to hear filmmakers speak with such unfiltered honesty, raw from their premieres and unsure of how audiences would respond. Berlinale never sanitises that moment. It lets it hang awkwardly, beautifully.

I didn’t do it for the glamour. There’s none of that when you’re racing through Potsdamer Platz with popcorn for dinner. I did it because I needed to fall back in love with storytelling. And I did.

Would I do it again next year? Absolutely.

Would I pack more snacks and fewer outfit options? Also yes.