Berlin Dispatch – The Line

Day 2 at the pandemic edition of the Berlinale. To accommodate the compressed festival schedule, four competition films were screened for press today, from 9am to 9pm, with one-hour breaks in between. It was a pretty exhausting exercise in movie-watching. Will try to form some coherent thoughts on my favorite of the bunch before I pass out.

Propelled by a beautiful script and a couple of powerhouse performances, Swiss director Ursula Meier’s fourth narrative feature THE LINE is a moving familial drama that tugs at your heartstrings while staying true to its not necessarily likable characters. Some might find its approach a bit… unsophisticated, but I’m not one to complain when something, by whatever means, just works. And this one worked.

The film opens with an instantly intriguing scene. Seen in slow motion and the audio silenced, a young woman is screaming, throwing stuff and lunging at an older one while being held back by a group of people in an otherwise perfectly civilized-looking house. With almost theatrical fury, the attacker breaks free and gives her target a slap that roundly knocks her out. The blood, the violence, the intense looks on the women’s faces all make you wonder what could have possibly triggered such aggression? Who are these people?

The surprise came as it’s revealed in the following scene that 30-something Margaret (Stéphanie Blanchoud) is the daughter of retired pianist Christina (Valeria Bruni Tedeschi), who has filed a complaint against her so that a three-month restraining order is granted, banning Margaret from being within 100 meters of her mother’s house. Through their subsequent interactions with Louise (India Hair), Marion (Elli Spagnolo) – Christina’s two younger daughters – and with each other, the fraught dynamics of this household of women gradually come to light.

I love how the script builds these vividly varied female characters. It’s never through exposition, hence nothing is ever conclusive. Instead, you get hints here and there that inform you of their pasts, personalities and give you an idea of how things got here. We know that the hot-tempered Margaret has a history of violence, but whether that’s owed to a medical condition or other reasons is unclear. She’s pone to aggression but also musically talented and extremely protective of her 12-year-old sister Marion. After Marion drew the titular line that marks the 100-meter boundary, Margaret comes meet with her and helps with her vocal practice every day from across the line. Marion, for her part, is the only devout member of the family, which is also unexplained. But you can totally see where that came from with a child who’s unable to control anything around her and desperately in need of motherly love.

Speaking of mothers, Christina is a most fascinating creation. Unlike Olivia Colman’s character in THE LOST DAUGHTER, she never openly admits to not wanting children or feeling trapped by them. Her internalized resentment and lack of parental instincts towards her daughters become apparent subtly and organically in the way she talks and behaves around them. The scene where Christina’s attempt to be the goofy, cool grandma backfires on Christmas Eve is both hilariously inappropriate and deeply revealing. This woman, however she might claim otherwise, does not have a clue on how to be a mother, even if she has been one for over thirty years.

It’s also smart for the writers to leave the identity of the girls’ father (do they even all have the same father?) and the notably androgynous temperament of Margaret uncommented, which adds another dimension to the family dynamics. On a technical level, I love how the script keeps Margret and Christina apart for the longest time. After the opening scene, both characters are developed independently until Christmas Eve an hour into the film. By then we’ve learned so much about them that, when one tries to reach out, the tension is real and palpable.

The female ensemble cast has great chemistry and convincingly portrays the love-hate relationship one only shares with their family. Blanchoud delivers a hugely sympathetic performance that shakes you first with its intensity, but eventually with its tenderness. Tedeschi is glorious as the hot mess ex-pianist. Effortlessly funny in some of the film’s lighter moments while showing depth and unspoken pain in others, she communicates every emotional beat of the screenplay. Both actresses are awards-worthy in my book, the trick would be deciding whether as lead or supporting after Berlinale went gender-neutral for its acting awards last year.

In terms of festival films, THE LINE leans old-fashioned in its storytelling. Meier’s direction is not as adventurous as that of most other films I’ve seen so far. But I think in this case simplicity and sincerity do serve the story best.