Natatorium

Way back in the 6th Century BCE, the philosopher Thales of Miletus came up with the idea that everything is made out of water. It was a reasonable supposition, based on the fact that he seen water adjust and take the form of a solid, a liquid and a vapour. There are echoes of that theory in Helena Stefandottir’s Natatorium, in which ideas and themes are constantly shifting but liquid patterns of light and shimmering blue tones can be found throughout. From the fishbowl in a bedroom (whose unfamiliar shape clearly perplexes a young shubunkin with no acting skills) to the grey skies outside, the tap in the kitchen, the pool in the basement where unconscionable things take place. Everything here is fluid, threatening to subside at any time and drown those within.

Lilja has come to the city to audition for a role as a dancer, as a naiad in a shining blue catsuit with glittering blue streaks across her face. The practical thing for her to do is to stay with her grandmother, Áróra (Elin Petersdottir) rather than look for a room elsewhere. Áróra’s house is vast, she can use her mother Vala’s (Stefania Berndson) old room, and she can see her uncle Kalli (Jónas Alfreð Birkisson), who has been too ill to travel for some years. He’s getting better, Áróra keeps reassuring people, and it’s not clear who she’s trying to comfort. But when Lilja’s father Magnus (Arnar Dan Kristjánsson) finds out where she’s staying, he panics, calling Vala to ask if she can intervene.

Vala seems well intentioned – a functioning alcoholic who clearly has issues with her parents but connects well with Lilja – and yet she’s not the sort of person one would usually see as the preferred option for looking after someone young and vulnerable. What’s wrong with the grandparents? The film is full of hints and whispers – and less subtle moments. On the surface she seems a little dry, perhaps, but warm towards the girl, and intelligent, well dressed, respectable. Down below , she dons strange robes before she walks into the water – and beckons Lilja to follow her.

Screening at SXSW 2024, Natatorium is a lengthy musing on family dysfunction. Whatever Áróra is up to, it’s quietly aided and abetted by other family members who turn a blind eye. Vala is deeply worried about Kalli, with whom she has had a strong bond since childhood, but she doesn’t call on any outside help, instead hiding in drink, allowing herself to be positioned as the problematic one. The relationships are well drawn and delicately handled by a capable cast, so one wishes that the script would focus more on them instead of on the possibly delusional, possibly supernatural elements which seem poorly thought out and lacking in direction. In places one might be reminded of Peter Greenaway’s Drowning By Numbers, but this film badly needs additional structure like that to hold it together.

What it does have is style, in quantity, from the elegant modernist house to the cello-heavy score. As one moves down through the building, both get darker. Something will eventually happen here, but we spend too long waiting for it, tangled up in too many possibilities, and as a result, where it should hit us like a tidal wave, it just feels a bit washed out.