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Tarot card of the month: The Moon
Are you really behind in life? Or are you under the illusion of society’s standards? During retrograde season the Moon card can help you
I meet the Nüesch Sisters at Café Noir in Zurich. Florine and Kim Nüesch grew up in St. Gallen, studied at the Art Center College of Design in Los Angeles and today live between London and Switzerland. They always wanted to make films. They tell me their own story – one of constant evolution and continual self-questioning. Through their films, they are not looking to provide answers, Flo explains, but rather to spark conversations.
Even as children, the two sisters began making their own films. At first, they mostly appeared in front of the camera themselves. The first shift in perspective came when they decided to take on the role of directors. “We learned an enormous amount from bonus material and DVD making-of features. That was where we first understood what really happens behind the camera,” says Flo. Their parents were their first creative team – their mother wrote stories for them; their father bought them their first Mac so they could edit their home-made films, giving them an extraordinary freedom to tell their own stories. At the time, they were nine and seven years old. What began as a childhood ambition became a career they have continuously pursued together. “Our mother brought us very close to one another from the start. She died young, which brought us even closer,” says Flo. “Because of our bond, we often notice even the smallest changes in each other,” says Kim.
For them, working as a directing duo was always the obvious path. A year after Flo began her studies at the Art Center College of Design in Los Angeles, Kim joined her. It was the only period in which they explored the same themes while working independently. Their bond never suffered from it – they were always involved in each other’s projects.
Today, Kim lives in London and Flo in Zurich – but the distance has never hindered their collaboration. They have simply become more flexible. They talk to each other now through countless channels about ideas, projects, specific edits. Sometimes by phone, sometimes on FaceTime, and always with the same sense of closeness. Most of their projects begin with an observation from everyday life. One of them notices something, brings it to the other, and together they begin to explore it. Fine observations play just as much of a role as their personal view of things. They talk through ideas, discard them, reshape them, and develop the narrative of a story until it works for both of them.
“It’s not as if we never argue about our projects. Of course, there are moments when we clash as sisters – tbut they never last long,” Kim explains. The strong connection between the two is palpable throughout our conversation. The strong bond between the two is palpable throughout our conversation. They exchange brief glances, finish each other’s sentences, and yet remain deeply aware of each other’s individuality, giving one another the space to be themselves. It isn’t about who is more extroverted or introverted, Kim says. Rather, it is precisely their differences that make their work together so distinctive. They have never compared themselves to each other, never been in competition.
"Perhaps we have to push things to the extreme at first, so that one day it can become normal."
What matters far more is how you see yourself. Each project has sharpened their vision, while encouraging them to constantly question themselves and their work. It was never about their own ego, but about changing something – not only as directors, but above all as women with their own narratives in a male-dominated industry. Out of that passion emerged a clear sense of purpose, and the personal became political.
“In our most recent short film, Marriage Unplugged, which is currently available on YouTube and on our website, we explored the portrayal of sexuality on screen more deeply than ever before,” says Kim. “There were internal discussions, because it was important to us that the female lead should not be sexualised – the way women so often are in film.” This led to ongoing conversations on set among the team: between themselves, but also together with the intimacy coordinator, the lead actress, the costume designer and the cinematographer. “It was a process in which we kept questioning our decisions and consciously defending our own perspective,” Kim adds.
Their work is shaped by what is known as the female gaze – the feminist response to the male gaze, the masculine-coded way of looking at women and their stories. For Flo and Kim, casting few male leads is not a conscious decision. It is simply a consequence of telling stories from a female perspective, with women at their centre. “I have a problem with the constant sexualisation of female bodies that has nothing to do with the narrative,” says Kim. She mentions a documentary that examines this very issue: Brainwashed: Sex-Camera-Power by Nina Menkes.
“That shows what influence this has on young women and girls, on how we see sexuality and ourselves. We look at ourselves the way men look at us. As directors, we are continuously evolving in order to consciously move away from that,” Kim continues. The two repeatedly question where their own ideas and aesthetic standards come from. Often, they realise they have been shaped by films made by men, unconsciously adopting the perspectives those films convey.
“As a filmmaker and as a woman, I felt as though I were drowning in an immense whirlpool of imagery, from which it is very hard to free oneself” – so begins Nina Menkes’ documentary Brainwashed: Sex-Camera-Power. With that thought in mind, the films of the Nüesch Sisters feel like a safe harbour. They work in a self-reflective way, deliberately privilege the female gaze, and choose to work with women.
Concretely, what concerns them is questioning why a female body is portrayed in a particular way. Why is it filmed like that? Who is looking? What gender roles are being reinforced? What do the female protagonists talk about? Is there a narrative beyond romance?” The male characters in our films aren’t hyper-masculine either, nor do they fit the usual stereotypes. On the one hand, such roles do exist in reality, but they can also create a new reality,” says Flo.
Marriage Unplugged
A woman is standing with her husband in front of a shop window. Inside is a female sex robot, dressed only in lingerie – and the couple begin arguing over whether he was looking at her or not. When they enter the showroom, more models are on display, naked and, as the woman points out, strikingly real. Her husband is visibly uncomfortable, while she appears entirely unfazed – and finally decides to take home sex robot “James”. A model capable of cognitive learning and of recognising needs. After a cut, the three of them are in the bedroom.
What may sound disconcerting at first describes the opening scenes of the short film Marriage Unplugged. In fifteen minutes, the story of a married couple unfolds, with a whole register of social themes in play: artificial intelligence, sexuality, the wish for children, gender roles, career, self-realisation – and humour. After an argument, the wife sets the robot outside in the rain. Later, her husband places him in a bathtub of rice, as if he were a smartphone that had fallen into water. The gesture is not only a kind of parental care, but also about their own independence. The depth of its subject matter is balanced by a certain lightness, allowing the film to remain engaging throughout.
This way of telling stories – where different backgrounds and motivations coexist – is typical of the work of the two directors, the Nüesch Sisters. Again and again, the Swiss directing duo explore compelling themes rooted in reality.
Behind the camera, too, they remain true to their principles, of the responsibility that extends beyond the screen. “As directors, we get to decide who we work with. On Marriage Unplugged, we deliberately assembled an all-female heads-of-department team,” says Kim. While the two try, on most projects, to work predominantly with women, the view towards Hollywood is far less encouraging. They mention a study showing how little equality there is in the film industry.
According to a study by the Center for the Study of Women in Television and Film at San Diego State University, in 2024 women directed only 16 percent of the highest-grossing films. A figure that underscores how important the work of Flo and Kim remains.
At one point in our conversation, they become very self-critical. The topic is language and the way it shapes reality. im explains that they constantly have to remind themselves to refer to themselves as Regisseurinnen – the feminine form of “director” in German – rather than using the generic masculine. In English, it is simpler: they are simply “directors.” This small detail alone shows how change has to happen not only on a structural level, but in everyday language as well. Yet even in English, distinctions persist. Women are still frequently described as “female directors,” marking them as an exception to the norm. The existence of awards exclusively for female directors reflects the same logic – a distinction that, in an industry of true equality, would no longer be necessary.
"No film is perfect, and no film can please everyone."
When we talk about structures and power dynamics, it becomes clear that being a duo is not always easy for them. “It’s never meant maliciously, but systems are sometimes not built for duos,” says Kim. Flo explains that there are often situations in which only one person has been planned for – at award ceremonies, for instance, or in fellowships. There have been cases where they could share a hotel room but had to pay for the second flight themselves.
And yet there are moments when the doubt creeps in. Kim says: “The financial uncertainty of being a director sometimes makes us question our commitment, especially in calmer or more difficult phases. But in the end, the passion for our work is always stronger than any doubt.”
When a calling becomes a career, finding a healthy relationship with your work becomes essential. The idea that a job you’re passionate about should never feel like work can create enormous pressure. The two are aware of this. As freelancers and creatives, they rarely have fixed working hours or clearly defined structures. “That makes a conscious work-life balance all the more important. For me, that means not answering emails in the evening, or taking Monday or Tuesday to slow down after a busy weekend,” says Flo. What grounds her are the simple things in everyday life: good food, cooking together, and spending time with the people she loves. Just as important are moments of solitude, where she can reconnect with herself and regain her energy.
Kim feels the same way. “In my everyday life, spending time with my friends is incredibly important to me. So are good books and, of course, good films, going dancing, and doing crosswords in bed with my partner. And when it comes to the little things that make me happy, my new tomcat Hiro – named after the director Hirokazu Koreeda – is definitely one of them.”
Despite all the hurdles and challenges, Flo and Kim have always followed their own path. And here, too, it becomes clear that path does not always follow only their own ideal. Quite naturally, we talk about the fact that there are different kinds of projects – commissioned work for clients as much as their own films.
“There are also female and male directors who only make their own projects, no branded films. But that isn’t really a contradiction – it doesn’t mean we care any less about a project just because we’re working for another brand,” says Kim. Their fashion film Through the Storm, for example, written and produced for Vogue Italy, is about isolation during the pandemic and how news from around the world can feel like a storm. The film is in no way inferior to their personal projects, drawing on both aesthetic and socially critical elements. There are of course projects they turn down, because “if it doesn’t feel right, it isn’t right,” says Flo. They are that honest with themselves. Equally, there are situations in everyday work where compromise is necessary.
Flo adds: “Especially when you’re employed and not working on your own project. I have a clear point of view and a strong personal approach to my work, but dialogue is just as important to me. Filmmaking is a collaborative process, and through exchange with the crew or with clients, new layers often emerge that you wouldn’t have reached on your own.””Even so, our narrative films are where we can express ourselves most fully, because they give us the greatest creative freedom and carry our signature from beginning to end” says Flo. “True freedom lies in the detail – in shaping things, as far as possible, the way you want.”
That attention to detail was already there in their earliest films. It has evolved over the years, but it has always been at the heart of their work. Kim says: “Concretely, it started with us not only engaging with the story but also asking ourselves: how should this moment be shot? Which colours should be in this image?” Flo: “That’s how we developed an understanding of which components can be decisive.”
Like any artist, it took time before they found their own perspective. Flo says: “The first film in which we found our style was probably Moon Girls, which we made at university.” Aesthetics play a central role in their work, because films live by their visual quality. At the same time, they try to break with conventional beauty norms. “For me, filmmaking isn’t about beauty – it’s more about aesthetics,” says Flo. And Kim adds: “Beauty, for me, applies to a person; aesthetics applies to the world and to a certain balance.” Beauty, here, is not only outward – it also comes from within. From charisma, from feeling at home in oneself. This tension is extremely interesting. On the one hand, a film needs to remain accessible if it is to find an audience; on the other, staying true to their own artistic convictions is essential.
So how beautiful should a character be? What role should beauty play in a film? How far can a subject be pushed? As female directors, they are constantly navigating these tensions. As female directors, they move in a constant ambivalence. Flo says that everything you do is a conscious decision that first needs to be thought through. Flo: “No film is perfect, and no film can please everyone.” And yet they are aware that, through their work, they themselves can create visibility and change. “Perhaps we have to push things to the extreme at first, so that one day it can become normal,” Kim reflects. It isn’t their style to make everything deliberately different in order to polarise. They let their films speak for themselves. Through international awards at festivals, they give visibility to social themes and to female perspectives – and stand in no way behind, aesthetically, the films they admire.
In truth, this thing with beauty isn’t simple. On the one hand, it has evolved; on the other, on social media we still encounter the same unhealthy standards we have always known, and women’s appearances are still publicly debated. That’s why we need counter-movements – films, books, art and conversations that show that the gaze should always be individual and never collective. We need an image of reality, in film and in other visual media.
Alongside the structures we can challenge, there are developments that seem impossible to stop. Artificial intelligence is one of them, and it will undoubtedly become part of certain areas of film production. Another is the so-called second-screen phenomenon. Streaming platforms increasingly adapt their scripts to viewers who are watching while simultaneously scrolling on their phones. Information is repeated, and plot points are often explained explicitly in dialogue.
Like many creative disciplines, filmmaking carries a certain nostalgia. While this article appears in print, for filmmakers the cinema remains the medium that matters most. We talk about how cinema is a kind of isolation: deliberate time, no distractions, no smartphones. “I have the feeling that, because of social media, the beauty of films is no longer as appreciated,” says Flo. For her, cinema is therefore one of the last spaces in which one is truly focused, and where the film stands at the centre. It feels as though, in all this fast-paced life, they want to create moments and impulses that linger in the memory.
Conversely, it matters to them that those moments come from their own thinking. “I would never write a script with AI,” says Kim. They have a certain fear that this would steal their own style and writing voice – because AI works with exactly this kind of information. “How do we know that our idea wouldn’t then be offered to others who are looking for input for their script?” says Flo. There it is again, the simultaneity in their work. In one moment it’s about aesthetics and the perfect image; shortly after, it’s about a development they consciously want to distance themselves from. Almost sixty years ago, Andy Warhol said that in the future, everyone would be famous for fifteen minutes. He didn’t yet know that attention spans would be far shorter, and that the challenge would involve more than acquiring fame. It feels almost rebellious to consciously see social media as a medium for behind-the-scenes content – and not to submit to its pressure.
Instead, Flo and Kim are currently working on two projects that could not be more different. Last September, they shot their first art film. “It’s called (Un)becoming and is a kind of artistic manifesto and our answer to the global regression of the political situation,” says Flo. It engages with what it means to be a woman – at a time when women’s rights are under massive pressure worldwide. On the one hand, it was challenging because they hadn’t worked in the genre before; on the other hand, it also gave them a certain freedom. “We could be much bolder, take things further. At the same time we introduced theatrical elements,” says Kim.
In parallel, they are working on their first feature film. “It’s about miscommunication and generational differences between a Millennial daughter and a Boomer father,” Kim explains. At the moment, they are still writing the script. The idea grew out of conversations with friends who had shared similar experiences with their own fathers. Time and again, these stories revealed family members talking past one another, unable to truly connect. By exploring perspectives across generations, the film aims to show that, despite our differences, many of us share the same feeling:of not being understood.
That approach, too, is as accessible as it is brilliant. Because even when no one feels understood, everyone understands what it feels like. They manage to address a collective and unite it through empathy. And, almost incidentally, all the themes that have come to define their films are touched on. This simultaneity is not only their passion but also reflects, as Flo explains, the wish she has always had to make a feature film. This way of making films is art. They don’t deliver answers, don’t want to impose their point of view, but instead bring different perspectives into the room. They have understood how effective their narratives can be. Again and again, they show how we might look at the world, and they invite the audience into that cinematic dialogue. They don’t offer fixed answers, don’t force their position – and as a duo, they nevertheless manage to operate within this very field of tension.
