QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM TALLINN
The story takes place in the Catalonian town of Sant Cugat, in the outskirts of Barcelona. Seventeen-year-old Carmela (Kiara Arancibia) lives with her 42-year-old mother Marta (Janet Novas) and her grandmother in a middle-class district. Carmela is your average adolescent: cheeky, temperamental and rebellious. Marta is quiet and reserved. The communication between the two is often sparse and laconic, as neither one is particularly skilled at expressing their sentiments. It is emotional silence that often prevails, leaving mother and daughter to misinterpret each other’s actions.
Marta shares the custody of Carmela with her ex (Julián Villagrán), whom she divorced just a year earlier. While we never find out the details of the break-up, there is little doubt that it was very tumultuous. Mum and granny can barely stand the mention of dad (in fact, we never learn his name). Carmela’s handover from one parent to the other takes place in a government institution so that the two estranged adults never cross paths. To Marta’s disappointment, Carmela enjoys spending time with her boozy, artistic dad. She finds the experience liberating, and expresses this sense of freedom by asking dad to shave her head. Her new look earns compliments in school, however leaving Marta shellshocked.
Carmela tries to be a good daughter by expressing her affection profusely and silencing at the moments of doubt and pain. It doesn’t take long until the traits of dad’s highly narcissistic and manipulative personality begin to surface, and viewers start to work out entirely on their own why Marta asked for a divorce. Dad is a control freak, and the prospect of losing control over the two women is just too much for him to handle. He might be prepared to resort to more extreme measures. It remains to be seen whether Carmela is prepared to confront him, or if she’ll just allow the “good” daughter to prevail.
Language becomes a gauge for intimacy and formality. There is a clear functional divide between the two tongues spoken in the film. Catalan is the institutional language, the parlance of authorities. It is used strictly at school, court and social services. Castilian (Spanish) is the language of love and relaxation, but also of confrontation. It is used at home – both at the most loving and the most tense moments – and also in school when the teenagers are speaking informally amongst themselves.
This is a very common story, without at any major twists, revelations and breakthroughs. The tactics of the father are immediately recognisable. This is an ordinary tale of family abuse told with extraordinary honesty. The cinematography is very austere: there is no technical wizardry, at times the camera is visibly handheld, and the lighting looks mostly natural. It is in authenticity that the movie excels. All the actors are very auspicious. The teenage interactions seem very spontaneous. Arancibia deserves extra credit: she delivers a powerhouse performance as a loving teen shaken by domestic violence (psychological, at times lapsing into physical), and riven by her parental allegiances. In other words: this is a movie urgent in its simplicity.
The Good Daughter just premiered in the Official Competition of the 29th Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival. This is an adaptation of the director’s own short film Harta (2021).
