QUICK’N DIRTY: LIVE FROM SAN SEBASTIAN
Catalina (Isabel Aimé González-Sola) is a very successful fashion designer with a caring spouse and a beautiful daughter, living in a luxurious apartment in Buenos Aires. She frequents lavish cocktail parties and mingles with the country’s elite. She travels to a snowy Geneve (in Switzerland) in order to receive a trophy for her work. She is notably unimpressed though, promptly throwing the item into the toilet bin. Next she throws herself off the bridge into the freezing waters of the large and fast-flowing river underneath.
She survives the ordeal and returns to Buenos Aires as if nothing had happened. She forges ahead with her life on full meltdown down. Her husband Pedro (Esteban Bigliardi) suspects there’s something wrong. “It’s as if you’ve never come bock”, he complains. “But I’m right here”, a dismissive Lina claims. She eventually confesses that the suicide attempt felt liberating. She felt extremely peaceful in the underwater darkness, and only returned to the surface after thinking of her five-year-old Sofia. Back in Argentina, such maternal devotion is never expressed in its integrity. In fact. Lina is mostly cold and dispassionate around her only child. The innocent little girl notes that her mum never cooks, a remark that makes our protagonist feel very uncomfortable. Sex with her husband is barely arousing. Pedro has to masturbate Lina before penetrating her. She lies in bed just as ice-cold as waters of the river into which she jumped. Her anhedonia (inability to experience joy) is entirely palpable (please forgive the inevitable pun).
The words “suicide”, “depression” and “mental health” are never uttered in the movie, however these topics are indeed central. It is evident that dread suffocates Lina, and that she struggles both physically and mentally to carry on with the most trivial tasks. The story contains at least one further suicide representation and a near-fatal incident. We eventually learn that her problems are genetic: her reclusive mother has struggled with similar issues for many years. Lina’s inability to name or even to discuss her condition with those around her is barely surprising. Depressed individuals often struggle to communicate, and instead seek emotional isolation.
Lina visits her old friend Amalia (Jazmín Carballo) in her beauty salon. Her friend sedates her with a tube before giving her a beauty treatment, in one of the movie’s creepiest scenes. Once again, Lina finds comfort at being virtually disconnected from life, in a state of unconsciousness. Her relaxation is such that she eventually shares some details of her life to Amalia, who reacts with shock and consternation,
This is a movie dotted with dissonances. While elegantly shot, The Currents is not a beautiful film. And wilfully so. Forty-eight-year-old Argentinian director Milagros Mumenthaler – now on her third feature film – sets out to unsettle and test viewers. Gabriel Sandru’s quiet lenses capture a world vibrant with colours, stylish furniture and art pieces, yet devoid of a more profound purpose. A dash of AI adds a touch or eeriness to the proceedings. The strange and distant cinematography mirrors Lina’s unsettled state of mind. In a way, The Currents is an exercise of existential ennui, and as such it is a very laborious and difficult watch. Melancholy occasionally slips into monotony. At times, the developments are cryptic to the point of inconclusiveness. The final denouement feels empty and senseless. Perhaps that too is intentional.
The Currents is in the Official Competition of the 73rd San Sebastian International Film Festival.
