Teenagers experience heightened emotions, both in love and loss. Harbouring feelings for another boy, adolescent Hana is stunned to discover that her father, an erstwhile pilot, has died suddenly. Faced with the trauma – and arguments over whether the funeral should follow Montenegrin customs, or more modern philosophies that would have suited the deceased – Hana has no choice but to run.

In terms of plot, Otter follows a similar through line to Icelandic hit When the Light Breaks (Rúnar Rúnarsson, 2024), given that the process of death is elevated by teenage foibles. Hana, caught between amorous devotion to a male and crippling devastation for a parent, now has to tackle her emotions head on. She spends time staring into a mirror, splashing her face with water in the hope of changing her expression.But the eyes, empty and occasionally black, never shift or change. Life is complex for someone so young.

Otter is often witty, not least in the early moments when the big-eyed teenager fancies a trip down a lake. What lies beyond isn’t as important as what it anticipates. Such is the grand possibility it forms a part of her mindset, bringing another layer of contentment to the proceedings. And it’s at this moment that the viewer realises what it is that the teenage years provide to personal development.

Masha Drashler stars as the lead, and acquits quite well to the extremities. No matter how high-strung Hana is, she has a layer of nuance which reminds the viewer at all times that this character is a 16-year old. Otter bears another similarity to When the Light Breaks in that neither the former’s Hana nor the latter’s Una ever comes across as bratty despite the fact that both are about vulnerable females on the cusp of womanhood. Grief overcomes people aching to hold their loved ones once more.

Furthering to the tragedy, the boy Hana fancies/loves invites her onto the lake for a dreamy, romantic date. And then the death of her parent takes place, leading to discussions on the coffin. People query whether or not the man should be buried in his space suit or not, given that he once flew for Nasa. It’s all too much for a girl going through puberty, so off she flees. Intercut with an animated sequence featuring the animal of the film’s title, Otter crosses between genres, but it also holds roots in indie drama territory. The focus of the movie is almost entirely on the lead heroine, and her journey to inner peace.

At 88 minutes, Otter is occasionally guilty of packing too much into a relatively short runtime, while some of the scenes are practically rushed through. But there is much power to be seen, not least in the moments Hana shares with her mother. She may seem curt, occasionally cruel, but Hana’s mother is still a human being, through bad times and good. Humanity shines through movies about death, and in this picture’s favour come the little gestures that exist between a surviving parent and child. Much as sorrow rises from affection, so must happiness.

In terms of photography, this picture utilises a number of crystal-clear shots, breathing in the yellows and hues. Indeed, the vibrance adds a rich contrast to the undulating sadness. Hana dons a variety of brightly lit t-shirts, no matter the feeling. Where adults wear a brave face, this adolescent sports a kaleidoscopic outfit. Everyone, real or imaginary, has to battle death in their own singular and idiosyncratic manner.

Otter premieres at the 31st Sarajevo Film Festival.