Valentina Maurel’s testing drama about a pair of estranged sister who reunite under difficult circumstances sadly falls back on repetitive riffs.
Questions on the nature of family bonds simmer beneath the surface in Valentina Maurel’s queasy drama, which she shot in the same Costa Rican neighbourhood where she grew up. These questions include: What do you do if a loved one disappears down a path where you fear to tread? How do you distinguish a nonconformist quirk from a symptom of mental decline? At what point do you draw the line in the name of self-interest?
We meet Elsa (Daniela Marín Navarro) as she walks through the Zapote neighbourhood of San Jose after several years studying in Belgium. She returns to discover that her younger sister Amalia (Mariangel Villegas) is behaving rather strangely.
Maurel shoots in a space rarely witnessed within the controlled realm of feature filmmaking: a truly dirty house. We’re not talking about several used plates artfully positioned by a set dresser, but a level of disrepair that hampers free movement and essential sanitation. This is how Elsa finds the house where Amalia is living alone. Amalia arrives soon after covered in mud and holding a new dog. By Amalia’s estimation, she has looked after the house because she has kept the spirits happy.
Maurel presents Amalia’s supernatural priorities and unkempt appearance without judgment as Elsa – our audience surrogate – is a watchful presence, preferring to take stock of a situation before engaging her powers of speech. She is more vocal when it comes to raising the alarm with her parents, however both are distracted. Mother (played with panache by Mexican actress Marina de Tavira) is having a famous book of old erotic poems reissued, prompting a crisis over how she will look in public. There are a handful of captivating sex scenes that follow; none is more compelling than the moment when Elsa nearly reaches orgasm from an image in her mother’s poetry. Meanwhile, Dad focuses on impressing his younger girlfriend, and the grown-up children of his former marriage are treated as casual friends.
The first half of the film is dedicated to laying out these dynamics in immersive, anecdotal style. The camera cleaves to Elsa as she refamiliarises herself with the people and places she chose to leave behind. A question mark hangs over whether Elsa will stay short-term or long-term. This uncertainty makes Amalia’s reluctance to accept her help appreciable.
Mariangel Villegas gives a poignant performance as Amalia. She has the film’s best lines, and is permanently connected to her most primal emotions. Amalia is as guileless and open as her sister is opaque and guarded. Amalia answers all questions matter-of-factly, even as her choices become more questionable. A rag-tag group of outcasts moves in with her, including a boyfriend she met in the park. Many of them own dogs. It’s unclear whether Amalia is being exploited or whether these are good, misunderstood people.
For much of the film, Maurel’s decision to withhold judgement on all of her characters builds intrigue. But as the film enters its final act, the narrative momentum falters, and it resorts to repetitive riffs on a punishing theme.
