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| Photo credit: Laurent Hou |
Set against the emotional and political landscape of Lebanon, the film follows a child whose quiet inner world becomes a space of resistance and imagination. Blending realism with magical intuition, Osta explores how childhood instinct collides with the violence and noise of war, a world where warplanes disturb sleep, nature struggles to be heard, and innocence becomes an unexpected form of power. Through poetic imagery and intimate storytelling, the film transforms a personal memory into a collective reflection on survival, fear, and resilience. Part coming-of-age tale, part political fable, Someday a Child captures the fragile moment when a child begins to understand the forces shaping their world, and discovers the possibility of pushing back against them.
Marie-Rose Osta speaks about memory, magic, and the emotional weight of bringing a deeply personal story to the Berlinale stage.
AM: How do you feel about your journey to the Berlinale?
Marie-Rose Osta: The journey here has been exciting because of the nature of the film, which has a very clear political layer, even though it is also a poem about childhood, inner strength, intuition, instinct, and the superpowers we have as children, and then slowly lose as we grow up, obstructed by the system, by our parents, and by everyone around us.
Living in Lebanon naturally gave the film a political background, because it is my reality and my own experience. In 2006, I was a teenager, and in Beirut we had not yet heard the sound of warplanes. When I heard it for the first time, it was so low that instinctively I said out loud, “boom,” and a few seconds later an actual explosion happened. The Israelis hit the electrical company next to us. For a moment, I believed I had caused it and couldn’t forgive myself, even though rationally I knew it wasn’t me. That moment really marked me, it made me grow up and start to understand and relate to politics more deeply.
The film was written before the recent war in Lebanon. Having Israel present in the background, yet so central to the child’s action as he destroys warplanes, is something I know can feel controversial for foreign audiences. I see the protagonist as a child with superpowers who breaks down airplanes simply because they disturb his sleep. It’s not even intentional. We don’t appear as victims; we appear as people with power, capable of defending ourselves, stopping the sound of war, and bringing back the sound of nature. This child represents all our children and the power they hold. That is why they are targets, and why we need to protect them, because they are our future.
AM: We’re talking about a child who has a gift. In the Middle East,
when a child is different or gifted, we don’t always celebrate them. We
often hide them. Do you think this film is also about celebrating kids
who are different, whether emotionally, mentally, or in terms of
identity?
Marie-Rose Osta: The child in the film is definitely
gifted and stands out. His uncle tries, lovingly, to protect him from
society by compressing his inner power out of fear. This older
generation may also have been special children once, but they were
suppressed themselves. Someday, someone will break free from that. It
could be your child, my child, anyone’s child. We just need to dismantle
the systems that hold us down as adults so we can let children become
whoever they want to be, no matter their choices, what they do with
their bodies, their lives, their careers, the people they love, the
faith they choose or don’t choose, and the sexuality they identify with.
Magic
gives us the liberty to go anywhere in our perception and
identification. That child represents all of us. Everyone is born
different, it’s life that turns us into the boring adults we become.
Only a few escape that pattern.
AM: And how was the casting process like?
Marie-Rose Osta: The cast are all non-actors. Since I shot in my grandparents’ house in Akkar, specifically in Kobayat, a northern village, I wanted the people to be from there. I went to schools in the region and stood in courtyards watching children play. I was drawn to one specific boy, spoke to him, and discovered that he didn’t like acting but loved singing. So I asked him to sing in the film. It gave me the idea of giving him what he wanted so I could gently lead him into acting.
A year later, when I was ready to shoot, I came back looking for him but he had changed schools. I panicked and started searching for him. He lives about an hour away from where we filmed, close to the Syrian border, in a very beautiful area. While spending time with him and trying to understand him better, I discovered a river, which I then added to the film. Many elements of the film came directly from the actors themselves.
The adult actor playing the uncle is actually a doctor and a fiction writer, very active in the cultural life of the village. He is not an actor. The voice you hear in the film isn’t even his real voice. During rehearsals, his secretary called and didn’t recognize him, asking to speak to Dr. Antoine. That’s when I knew he was ready, because I wanted him to go deeper, to speak from within, and to move at a different pace. It’s about finding raw talent and creating small miracles.
AM: Tell us about the magic of short films for you. Is it an
opportunity because you have limited time, or a challenge because you
have to express so much in such a short format?
Marie-Rose Osta:
It’s never about sending a message for me. It’s about a feeling, a
place, or an emotion I want to explore. That’s how a film begins, the
writing, the thinking, the concept, and that naturally determines the
length.
What makes short films special is that they are an
obsessive concentration on one subject. You go deeply into it,
deconstruct it, play with it, and rebuild it until you are satisfied. A
feature is a longer journey, with more layers and a longer development
process. The short film, on the other hand, is a very obsessive medium.
AM: You are living the dream of many filmmakers. How does it feel to be at Berlinale? Do you see this as an achievement or simply another step forward?
Marie-Rose Osta: I thought I would feel happier when I heard the news, but I actually felt calmer. What it gave me was a sense that luck can exist. So many people apply, and being selected among films from all over the world is also about timing and chance, who the jury is, how your film speaks to them, their expectations and taste.
I never make films with a strategy in mind. I just let them be. When I submit, I forget about it and move on with my life. When a selection like Berlinale happens, I realize that things are becoming more serious. It brings a sense of responsibility, to use my place to say things that matter in a clearer way.
It’s also beautiful because you meet other directors and realize you’re not alone. There’s a community of people exploring cinema in similar ways. I’ve always self-produced, so being inside this world is new for me. As I move toward my first feature film, this platform may help me find partners and people willing to listen and discuss. It’s very hard for a debut feature to find the right collaborators, so I see Berlinale as a meaningful leap, and I’m grateful for it.
AM: You mentioned creating your own production company to stay independent. Why was that important?
Marie-Rose Osta: Unfortunately, film schools in Lebanon don’t really prepare you for the real world. Once you graduate, you realize you don’t know anyone. Cinema everywhere, not just in Lebanon, can feel like a closed circle. If you’re not already inside it, you often remain outside without support, funding, or connections.
I felt alienated from the industry. I worked in advertising to make money, and I invested that money into my short films. That’s how I developed my work. Later, when advertising stopped being sustainable, I realized I had to start knocking on the doors of funding bodies. That’s how I received my first funds for my recent films. I learned production and co-production through experience. But I never want to rely entirely on funds. I always try to find creative ways to make films so I’m not at the mercy of timelines and expectations.
AM: You mentioned an upcoming future film. Can you share more about it?
Marie-Rose Osta: I’m preparing my debut feature, set in Lebanon in the 1990s. It follows a little girl who believes that everything her mother says becomes true, until one day it doesn’t, and her world flips. The story takes place during the Syrian presence in Lebanon, and we will see surreal images, like soldiers running like rabbits with a hyena chasing them. I’m very excited to shoot this film.
I recently attended the RAWI Screenwriting Lab in Jordan, which was a wonderful experience. It made me feel ready to move forward, to find the right partners and begin production and financing.