52 Films by Women Vol 8. 33. Un Amor (Director: Isabel Coixet)

Pictured: 'I prefer working on the inside to working on the outside.' Interpreter Nat (Laia Costa) is gripped by Andreas 'the German' (Hovik Keuchkerian) in the Spanish drama, 'Un Amor', adapted from Sara Mesa's 2020 novel by Laura Ferrero and director Isabel Coixet. Still courtesy of Imagine Film Distribution (Belgium)

There is a trope in romantic dramas about mending the broken. Spanish director Isabel Coixet explores this in her adaptation of Sara Mesa’s novel, Un Amor. In it, Nat (Laia Costa), a young interpreter who works for an NGO, quits her job to retreat to a small village in a rural part of Spain, where everybody knows everyone else. The house Nat moves into needs a lot of work, but it is all Nat can afford. Her landlord Casero (Luis Bermejo) gives her the dog to match; it has a scarred face from ‘looking at something it shouldn’t’. There’s a pound nearby from which dogs bark at night. ‘I don’t hear them anymore,’ the grumpily menacing Casero explains, which is a good description of his attitude to life. He tunes out of complaints rather than responds to them, though he fixes the taps. ‘With the small amount you pay me, how I am supposed to fix the house?’ he moans. Well, señor, if the house collapses, it is worth nothing – nada. That’s what I wanted Nat to say, but she is terrified of him. The dog scars are practically a warning.

Coixet, who co-wrote the screenplay with Laura Ferrero, begins the film with video footage of the testimony of a woman who suffered appallingly in her country. The camera is zoomed in close to her face, cutting out the contours of her cheeks, drawing attention to the pain in her eyes. We imagine the NGO is extracting evidence – ‘collecting’ seems too polite – for the purpose of prosecuting war criminals, which in itself is an almost pointless exercise. I watched the film in a cinema in The Hague, close to the International Criminal Court. I’m sure many in the audience felt differently. For Nat, the testimony cuts deep. She can no longer listen to it in person. Instead, she transcribes recordings, whilst, on a separate job, translating the work of Simone Weil into Spanish.

A young newcomer naturally attracts attention, firstly from the young woman in the village shop. Nat has to return the coffee but keeps the wine. The young woman tells her that they have no cardboard boxes with which she could carry her shopping, even though there are some outside. The suggestion is that the grocery clerk could be some kind of passive aggressive rival. Pitar (Hugo Silva) presents himself as a suitable match. He creates stained glass windows, which Nat admires rather than likes. There is a young weekender family – a couple with young children - who escape the city every Friday through Sunday, though the grey skies and soil unsuitable for growing vegetables doesn’t seem much of a retreat. There is also an older couple, the husband caring for his wife who has dementia, though the kind where she sees and comments on things that others don’t notice. I gave this dramatic device the benefit of the doubt. Nat finds extra employment looking after the older woman.

Frequently mentioned, but not seen, is the German. He turns up one day at Nat’s bearing a cardboard box filled with vegetables (maybe he got to the store before Nat).  Andreas (Hovik Keuchkerian) is late middle-aged, hulking and socially awkward. Noting the leaks that the landlord won’t repair – ‘I told you about the condition of the house before you moved in’ - Andreas offers to provide Nat with a quote. However, Nat has little income. Andreas then makes a proposal. ‘I haven’t been in a woman for years,’ he says in an embarrassed tone. ‘If you let me inside of you, I’ll fix it.’ Nat can scarcely believe what she’s hearing. ‘I’ll finish quickly,’ he insists, referring to the sexual act as much as the work he’ll do on the house. This is a village without lawyers or police, so it seems. The leaks prove too much. Nat accepts Andreas’ offer.

In a way, the film reminds the viewer of Beauty and the Beast. Nat turns up at his house, for him unexpectedly. ‘You want it to be now?’ He asks. Nat nods. Andreas spits on his hands to lubricate his genitalia. At least he doesn’t require Nat to do it.

The sex act is delicately staged, with the camera on Andreas before tilting down to show Nat. The emphasis is placed on his hip work. Coixet shows his naked buttocks, which are as coarse as his face. Introducing a fantasy element, we see Nat sitting on a chair watching Andreas searching for pleasure. The seated Nat is impassive, distanced from the action on the bed. We make the link to the treatment of the African refugee; a woman abused by a man because that’s what men do. Here though, Nat has agreed the terms.

Pictured: A moment of repose. Andreas (Hovik Keuchkerian) and Nat (Laia Costa) in a scene from the Spanish drama, 'Un Amor', adapted from Sara Mesa's novel by Laura Ferrero and director Isabel Coixet. Still courtesy of Imagine Film Distribution (Belgium).

Andreas honours his side of the bargain, though Nat half expects him not to. He goes out to buy tiles, returning later to fit them. He also works inside the house. ‘Working inside is better than outside,’ he remarks. The work is completed in a day. Andreas refuses a beer or a glass of wine. He is withdrawn, not seeking to explain himself further.

It is a surprise to us that Nat returns to his house to allow him inside her again. She becomes a frequent visitor. We interpret her visits as acts of masochism, having failed the women whose stories she listened to. The film poses a question. Is it the responsibility of women to stop men from giving into their worst impulses? The village’s version of heteronormality is hardly inspiring. Pitar reveals himself to be something of a creep. He invites Nat to a party given by the weekender couple, Carlos (Francesco Carril) and Lara (Ingrid Garcia-Jonsson), not telling her that it is celebrating their daughter’s birthday, so Nat arrives without a present. It is as if she is deliberately cast in the role of the potentially disruptive outsider. ‘I don’t think she likes me,’ Nat tells Pitar, after Lara refuses Nat’s offer to help in the kitchen. ‘I know who likes you,’ says Pitar. ‘Carlos.’ This turns out to be a red herring; Pitar has designs on her.

There is one sex scene that has no subtext at all, rather making erotic use of available material. Nat and Andreas are making a meal with a bowl of egg yolk on the kitchen table. Nat draws Andreas to her from behind, dips her fingers in the egg yolk and uses them to lubricate herself. It is a variation on Last Tango in Paris’ most infamous scene, but one in which Nat is in control.

Nat’s biggest mistake is that she tries to justify herself to Andreas. In a turning point, she explains why she quit her job. Andreas is incensed. ‘Do you think that makes you heroic?’ He explains how he too is a refugee. His mother fled Armenia to Germany, where she couldn’t find work. ‘She was a bright woman.’ Andreas mocks Nat for describing him as a mountain. When she tells him what expression he pulls during climax, she asks about her expression. Andreas does not answer. By this time, Nat suspects that Andreas might have made the same offer to another woman, seeing the grocery clerk in the front seat of her jeep. Andreas explains that she needed a lift. He knows Nat has been spying on him. The surprise to her is that everyone in the village knows that she visits Andreas’ house. When Lara and Carlos invite Nat for a meal, Lara tells her to ‘come alone.’ Lara later reveals that Andreas did some work on her house. The inference is pretty clear. 

Pictured: Surly (the dog) with no cringe on top - just Nat (Laia Costa), reading. A scene from the Spanish drama, 'Un Amor', directed by Isabel Coixet, adapted from Sara Mesa's 2020 novel. Still courtesy of Imagine Film Distribution (Belgium)

The scarred dog, whom Nat names Surly, becomes a surrogate for Andreas. The dog is a hermaphrodite. ‘No wonder it was treated appallingly,’ the vet explains as Nat arranges for Surly to be vaccinated. Nat is kind to Surly, sharing her food with it. Surly doesn’t take to the large bag of dog food that she purchased, even though ‘it is expensive’. At a certain point, Surly gets angry. This is viewed by the village as inevitable.

Surly is also a metaphor for migrants, scarred but deserving of compassion, feared but not immediately a danger. Nat is blamed for Surly’s behaviour. When she counters that the horrific act would not have happened without Surly being let in, Pitar tells her, ‘don’t let anyone in the village hear you say that.’

Nat is also rejected by the older couple who won’t let her work for them until ‘it blows over’. Surly, who has disappeared, comes home. Nat discovers who her friends are. There is a heart-breaking scene when employees of the dog pound, plus a police officer, turn up at her home.

Even in spite of this – the loss of her dog, the rejection of Andreas, who ends their arrangement – she thinks about staying. Until the landlord turns up. Casero talks about his wife wanting things. He is a classic misogynist. Then he turns on Nat and attempts to rape her before she fends for herself.

The final scene is a fantasy. Earlier, Nat told Lara and Carlos that she used to dance. ‘Not anymore.’ At the end of the film, she parks the car and dances. Then she collapses to the ground and laughs, before being greeted by Surly, who licks her face.  We think of this ending as wish fulfilment, but it should be interpreted as the spirit of the unwelcome migrant, with blood on its face, renewing Nat’s sense of purpose. Dogs you can trust. Men not so much.

 

Reviewed at Filmhuis Den Haag, Screen 5, The Hague, Netherlands, Friday 16 August 2024, 16:00 screening.