Philip Larkin was only half right when he said that mum and dad f*** you up; the wider family can also join the destructive impulse. In the latest film by Carla Simón, a rising star of Spanish cinema, we see how grandparents, cousins, cousins, aunts and uncles can distort and damage that fragile blossom known as childhood memory. In what is called an ‘autofictional’ account of the director’s own past, we follow the travails of Marina, an eighteen year-old who is in search of the truth behind her parents’ early death. She hardly knew them and was brought up by foster parents in Barcelona while her natural family was lapping around on the choppy waters of the Atlantic by the city of Vigo. All of the action takes place in the harbour, rocky coast and offshore islets around the capital of Galicia.

Marina is played by complete newcomer Llúcia Garcia who was apparently picked out of the street by the eagle-eyed Simón. Marina is a stand in for the director who also as a teenager went in search of her natural family only to find that truth can hurt. And guess what? Marina is a budding film maker carrying her early ‘naughties’ digital camera to capture her journey of self-discovery. Garcia plays her with cool detachment and enigmatic patina. She hasn’t come to Viga to learn more about her lost parents but for a more mundane reason; to get a copy of her father’s death certificate in order to apply for a grant to get her into film school. Her shock comes when the official document seems to show that her dad was recorded as having no children. It is this that begins her fractured voyage of discovery amidst a wider family not all that pleased to see her.

The truth about her parents’ hedonistic, heroin-fuelled and self-destructive lifestyle has been hidden from Marina and the Vigo family are hoping to keep it that way. Some hope!

If this sounds more like melodrama, nothing could be further from the truth. Simón’s gaze into her own past is fragmentary, almost hallucinatory at times. Family confabs are half heard; it is only by chance remarks that Marina starts to learn the truth. We are never certain why Marina wants to hang around in Vigo and there is a certain distancing of the narrative (sometimes a touch too languid for my taste). The camera work is eclectic with Marina’s own handheld shots in view, flashbacks to a super-8 1980s view of her late parents and a restless eye on the bobbing seas; this is not a stormy narrative, but the trajectory of Marina’s discoveries has the swirl of moderate sea breeze. Nothing ever quite settles or resolves. There are moments of unexpected magic realism as Garcia morphs dreamlike into her mother. This is a film to keep you on your toes. It is a strangely mesmeric film, one to get completely lost in, and while it doesn’t trade on glamorous coastal views (North Atlantic colours can be quite washed out even in summer), the cinematography is subtle and deeply engaging.

The 44th CAMBRIDGE FILM FESTIVAL continues at the Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge.

Photo: QuimVives Elastica Films