Liuben (2023), directed by Venci Kostov, is a heartfelt Bulgarian-Spanish co-production that explores identity, sexuality, and the longing for human connection across cultural and generational divides. The film is an intimate coming-of-age drama with a quiet but powerful emotional current, tackling themes of immigration, family secrets, and the courage to live one’s truth.
Set between Bulgaria and Spain, the story follows Liuben, a 16-year-old boy raised in Spain who travels to Bulgaria in search of his biological father. What begins as a simple personal journey evolves into a confrontation with his own past, his sexuality, and the different ways people carry trauma across borders. As Liuben peels back layers of familial silence, he discovers not only who he comes from, but who he truly is.
The film’s tone is understated and poetic. Its strength lies not in melodrama, but in subtle glances, lingering silences, and beautifully composed shots of rural and urban Bulgaria — often juxtaposed with memories and voices from another life. The cinematography is rich with mood, capturing the tension between longing and belonging.
Actor Dimitar Nikolov brings vulnerability and quiet resilience to Liuben’s character, making his inner world feel authentic and deeply human. The film never exploits his struggles but instead allows the audience to walk alongside him, witnessing his realizations in real time.
A critical highlight of Liuben is how it bridges LGBTQ+ identity with the experience of being caught between cultures. It sheds light on the quieter, often invisible stories of queer youth in Eastern Europe — particularly those whose identities are shaped by migration and cultural fragmentation.
A possible continuation, Liuben: Return to Silence, could take place five years later. Liuben, now in his early twenties, has returned to Spain but remains haunted by unresolved ties to his father and a brief romance he left behind in Bulgaria. When an unexpected death calls him back, he must reconcile the duality of his life — not just his identity as a queer man, but as someone caught between two countries, two languages, and two ideas of “home.”
In this sequel, Liuben begins documenting queer narratives across rural Balkan communities — giving voice to stories like his own, while reckoning with his personal past. Along the way, he forms a new relationship that forces him to confront what love and freedom truly mean.
This imagined film would maintain the lyrical realism of the original while expanding its scope — not just telling one boy’s story, but a tapestry of those living in the margins, loving in silence.
