A gentle, feel-good fairy tale with the contours of a road movie, The Frog and the Water marks Thomas Stuber’s return to the Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival’s main competition with a story that thrives on sweetness, quiet rebellion and a generous dose of suspension of disbelief. Co-written with Gotthart Kuppel and Hyoe Yamamoto, the film follows Buschi (portrayed by Aladdin Detlefsen, who was crowned Best Actor in Tallinn), a young man with Down syndrome who has never spoken a word and whose days in an assisted living facility rarely deviate from a rigid routine. When an excursion takes the group to a tourist site, Buschi abruptly peels off and blends into a tour of Japanese visitors passing through Germany – an escapade so improbable that viewers must willingly accept the story’s surreal premise in order to fully enjoy what follows.

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Stuber leans into the whimsical implausibility of this set-up, crafting a narrative where practicalities matter far less than the emotional truth the film is trying to capture. The most charming element – and the main storyline – is undoubtedly the relationship between Buschi and Hideo (Kanji Tsuda), one of the Japanese tourists who spots the stray visitor but chooses to welcome him, rather than alert anyone. On paper, the pairing seems nonsensical – a mute young man who has slipped away unnoticed, and a weary traveller dealing with his own invisible burdens. Yet Detlefsen and Tsuda build a surprisingly effective chemistry, sustaining an unspoken connection that gives the film its beating heart.

The screenplay, however, could have pushed the more conflictual aspects of their dynamic further. The hints we receive – such as a hotel scene in which Buschi insists on watching television at full volume, repeatedly waking Hideo – suggest a richer, more textured relationship beneath the surface. These fleeting moments of irritation point to a story that might have benefited from a few more cracks in its fairy-tale facade, without undermining the tenderness at its centre.

A special mention goes to Bettina Stucky, perfectly cast as Buschi’s officious, exasperating caregiver. She loses him almost instantly during the group outing and spends the rest of the movie in a panic, probably driven less by affection than by the fear of the legal and professional consequences. It is a deliberately grating performance, pitched just right to make audiences side with Buschi’s instinct for freedom – even as the narrative quietly acknowledges the very real dangers his disappearance may entail.

Technically, the film does not aim for standout formal bravura. Filip Zumbrunn’s cinematography and Jenny Roesler’s production design remain warm yet functional, keeping the focus tightly on the characters. But the score stands out as one of the project’s most carefully curated components. The recurring use of Caleb Arredondo’s “Echo Sax”, with its soft jazz inflections, becomes a kind of melodic companion to Buschi and Hideo’s journey. Its wandering notes underscore the odd-but-lovely duo's journey, helping shape its gentle rhythm and emotional palette.

Ultimately, The Frog and the Water is a small, affectionate tale about unlikely kinship and the quiet courage required to step outside familiar boundaries.

The Frog and the Water was produced by Pandora Film (Germany), and co-produced by Gretchenfilm (Germany), Hugofilm Features (Switzerland) and Lomotion (Switzerland), alongside ZDF and ARTE, in collaboration with Neopol (Germany), Hassaku Labs (Japan) and Vesuvius Pictures (Japan). The Match Factory is in charge of the feature’s world sales.