Many times, the entertainment value in portraying ontological shifts in movies manifests in the externalized changes of the world. The trope in which the main character wakes up to a reality of alternatives (laws, societal expectations, time periods) will catalyze the character’s change in belief and perception so that when they return back to their old life, they are the only people that are different. In The Currents (Las Corrientes in Spanish), the trope is somewhat reversed. The burden of carrying a secret is the seismic shift for the protagonist, who may have felt the earth slowly move underneath her feet before realizing just how fragile her foundation is.

After traveling to Geneva to accept an award (only to dispose of the trophy in the bathroom afterwards), Argentinian fashion designer Lina (Isabel Aimé González-Sola) jumps off a bridge. Unsuccessful in her attempt, Lina returns back to her hotel in a hypothermic blanket and doesn’t speak of the event to anyone. In exchange, she is greeted with the expected normalcy from the people who are none the wiser. While Lina’s aloofness and sudden aversion to water is detected by her husband Pedro (Esteban Bigliardi) and her daughter Sofia (Emma Fayo Duarte), there isn’t much visibility to indicate that Lina is going through a change. But in containing a secret that feels as heavy as the world, something will eventually have to give.

The Currents is not interested about convincing us that Lina’s life is more satisfactory or miserable to lead to suicidal ideation, which in itself is probably one of the more realistic reflections for those who share those feelings. Much like the motif of water movement mimicked in The Chronology of Water or Evil Does Not Exist, Lina exists like driftwood, sometimes submerging under water and sometimes staying afloat to take care of her household and job responsibilities. The comparisons to the flow of life and water are easy to point out, but I’m fascinated by the film’s chokehold on darkness. A lot of the film is shot in obscurity (which feels comically pointed when Lina once criticizes a particular image at a photoshoot: “This shadow is too much”). It only enhances the small catharses of light interloping into some scenes like a kind of chiaroscuro in motion. Lina is aware that there is both lightness and darkness in her life, but that sharp contrast in itself can feel contradictory, confusing, and painful.

One could anticipate an emotional rawness in watching a character study with this premise, but I’m reminded of the sort of bleak bite of the early-millennial black comedies. It’s not that things are so outlandishly funny, but Lina’s inner turmoil against the backdrop of a seemingly normal world can create an experience akin to lucid dreaming. Nonetheless, director and writer Milagros Mumenthaler approaches this character study with glimmers of hope. Whether on purpose or not, Lina’s unmoored wandering gets her to care for the parts in herself that needs answers or comfort. This might come in little details; Lina’s hair remained damp after the incident, but she reaches out to an old friend at a hair salon (who calls her by her childhood nickname Cata), who gives her a new haircut. You can spend your time picking apart at some of the realizations in this scene, but at the end of the day, the scene is so simple, which can be enough.

The film’s best earned moments are between Lina and Sofia, who is on the younger, carefree side of life. Perhaps the gratitude of life through our children’s innocence could be hackneyed (although with last year’s prevalence of gloom-mom films, maybe it’s not too cliched), but it feels like soft sun beams when Sofia enters the scene. Lina gets out of bed for Sofia. Lina runs up the stairs of some urban lighthouse to look for Sofia when she thinks she’s disappeared. Even in the last scene, which for a second seizes your heart with dread, Sofia fights for the things that Lina has a hard time seeing. Those blind spots may stick around for a while, but The Currents may advise knowing where your anchors are.

The Currents
2025
dir. Milagros Mumenthaler
104 min.

Now playing @ Cape Ann Community Center, Rockport