German director Isabelle Caps-Kuhn taps into cinema’s voyeuristic tradition in her engaging drama, What You See of Me. The story revolves around Gwen (Sina Genschel) and Adam (Julius Nitschkoff), a couple who casually stumble into an open relationship. Their cavalier and curious attitude about the lifestyle puts them in the crosshairs of jealousy and turbulent emotions, as Gwen risks confronting the fear of being alone.

To suggest Gwen and Adam’s emotional and physical intimacy is laid bare overlooks Caps-Kuhn’s nuanced approach. It appears that the characters’ emotional and physical intimacy is exposed, but they are also protected. The interesting dichotomy of the story is the external versus the internal. The audience’s prying gaze is privy to private moments, but the couple each hold things back. Gwen, in particular, is empowered to control how much of herself she either exposes or reveals, positioning her as the film’s driving force.

Caps-Kuhn is engaging in a critical conversation about how we love and experience emotional and sexual intimacy. Emphasising this dichotomy of the internal and the external, she explores the themes and ideas of what we feel versus how we want to feel, and fantasy versus actuality. Inside or behind this critical exploration, the director hides an elliptical threat that’s subtly woven throughout the story.

What You See of Me opens with Gwen sitting alone in an airport lounge. She’s waiting for Adam, who eventually appears. We don’t realise it until later in the film, but this lonely image is the self-portrait Gwen would paint of herself if we handed her a canvas and paints. In parallel, we become aware of this hidden threat, triggering the realisation that the storytelling is an extension of Gwen’s introverted and guarded personality.

The film’s voyeuristic context and Gwen positioned as the dominant protagonist gives the false impression of understanding. The truth is, the audience, like Gwen, are lost in a haze of impulsive emotions. Gwen never clearly expresses the reasons for her intrigue in exploring the possibility of an open relationship. Instead, it’s an ambiguous conversation with Adam that fails to establish boundaries to protect one another and their relationship. Communicating her impulsive curiosity, Adam fails to support a more considered conversation. Instead, he green-lights his girlfriend’s uncertain interest. It’s a mistake that’s emphasised when someone, later in the film, says to Gwen, “You don’t know what you want, do you?”

Of course, the drama is driven by uncertainty, but also the inability to communicate and have a conversation. We don’t see it at first, but Gwen is a young woman weighed down with fears and insecurities. In some ways, Adam is a kindred spirit, but Gwen consumes Cap-Kuhn’s focus making What You See of Me a female-centric story.

In a prefatory physics class, she smashes a test tube to demonstrate entropy – “the development from order to chaos.” She tells the class they will never be able to put this test tube back together the same way again, and explains, “Everything in our universe strives from order to disorder.” This scientific theory is the foundation for Gwen, a character who has undergone her own emotional entropy. She is still struggling with unresolved anxieties and her polyamorous curiosity could be a new layer of disorder. Perhaps it’s even a defence mechanism to protect herself from investing too deeply in a monogamous relationship.

Another metaphor to understand Gwen is the Japanese art of Kintsugi – piecing broken pottery or glass together again to create something new and beautiful. Gwen’s familial relationships have broken her but in trying to piece herself back together, she’s impeded by fear and insecurity. In one scene, Gwen says, “I don’t want to be afraid”, and in an important conversation with Adam she is compelled to raise her defences when her vulnerability is triggered.

Caps-Kuhn and Genschel create a character that explores how our past experiences and fears may silently motivate our decisions and how we choose to communicate. Ironically, Gwen’s curiosity could be an act of self-destruction or self-harm. It exposes her own anxieties and vulnerability about either being alone or feeling less than. There might be no certainty in a monogamous relationship with Adam, but a polyamorous relationship is thwart with danger given the unresolved experiences that weigh her down. What You See of Me could be seen as a reimagining of the ghost story, whose character is haunted not only by her own mind, but those who should have unconditionally loved her, that have instead left her hurting.

Our prying and curious eyes may find the answer to whether an open relationship is right for Gwen and Adam, but out of this is borne other curious and unanswerable questions. These are unanswerable because, in some ways, What You See of Me is the end of the beginning. This point, in itself, is an oversimplification because of the emotional baggage both Gwen and Adam are carrying. The characters have lives predating one another, so the story is not the literal beginning, but it does appear that Caps-Kuhn is drawn to a specific moment that exerts itself as the end of a transformational beginning. What You See of Me is an engaging and emotionally restrained exploration of human nature that treats its characters’ vulnerability with compassion, respect and understanding.

What You See of Me premieres in the 32nd edition of Raindance, which takes place between June 19th and 28th.