A young woman is all smiles as she accepts an industry award in front of an adoring audience. She sneaks away following the ceremony, exploring the streets of Geneva, stopping to gaze through shop windows. Eventually, she reaches a pedestrian bridge where she turns and, seemingly without much thought, leaps into the freezing water. In its opening minutes, Milagros Mumenthaler’s The Currents wastes no time in grasping your attention. That young woman’s name is Lina (Isabel Aimé González-Sola) and this harrowing, empathetic story follows her tumultuous journey towards learning to cope with the heavy weight of her trauma.
After returning home to Argentina, the lingering effects of the episode remain. Lina is now faced with a debilitating fear of water, unable to even wash her hands. She uses wet wipes to clean herself instead of showering, leading to a rash on the back of her neck. The idea of pulling her daughter Sofia (Emma Fayo Duarte) from the bath sends her into a panic. As desperation sets in, she visits an old friend at a salon who sedates Lina to give her a proper wash. This is the first time we hear her recount the story. It’s not to her attentive husband Pedro (Esteban Bigliardi), it’s to someone she hasn’t seen in years. But when a sedation goes wrong, her husband eventually finds out. Lina begins therapy and word begins to spread. Her mental illness becomes a spectacle, something that defines her among her family and friends. We’re flies on the wall as we watch her navigate these societal pressures while trying to stay present for her daughter.
“… seemingly without much thought, Lina leaps into the freezing water …”
Lina is one of the most compelling characters in cinema this year. In González-Sola’s raw, grounded portrayal, we find a woman doing everything she can to mask her struggle. But as the film progresses, the cracks begin to show. Isolation, confusion, fear and guilt subtly flash across her face. Through long, dissociative looks into the distance, it’s clear she’s struggling to stay engaged in the world around her. Mumenthaler transports the audience into Lina’s body. The claustrophobic sound design is packed with increasingly blaring, ambient noise. That, mixed with a booming orchestral score, makes your chest tighten right alongside Lina’s. Her triggers have now become our triggers, ratcheting up the tension until the cathartic release in a beautiful third act climax. For just a moment, Lina manages to escape her body, fusing with the experiences of the women around her.
Centering the story around water allows for a steady stream of interpretation (pun intended). It’s a symbol so often used in the arts to represent an array of things–cleansing, chaos, transformation, trauma, a lack of control. And Mumenthaler certainly brings the audience through that spectrum, leaving room for Lina’s relationship with water to evolve. We don’t just see it, Mumenthaler makes us feel the water droplets across our face and hear its presence at every turn. But it was never really about the water at all. The fear of water was just a result of the conditions that drove her to leap into that cold, dark river. In the end, those conditions still swirl around her. She may not have the answers (do we ever?), but she’s finally taking steps forward.
"…one of the most compelling characters in cinema this year"
