52 Films by Women Vol 10. 8. FORASTERA (Director: Lucía Aleñar Iglesias)
For an audience to
be emotionally engaged in a movie, the protagonist’s state of mind needs to be
relatable. The filmmaker should make us share the protagonist’s anxiety, to
experience the action in the present. The viewer may withdraw from the film and
critique the protagonist as their own feelings come into play, but a pleasurable
bond of identification should be created. As we watch Forastera, we make no such connection. Our engagement is intellectual. Even if we
want her to behave in a certain manner, our response is more of irritation.
This disengagement may be intentional, but it has a snowballing effect. The
less we feel, the more we want the filmmaker to snap us into empathy. The final
act of the drama, the moment when we finally understand what we’ve been
watching, becomes critical. There is a risk that the final revelation can seem
trite and underwhelming, leaving us ill-disposed. It is far better to engage an
audience emotionally throughout a character’s journey, not just at its climax.
In the opening
scene, Iglesias signposts a ghost story. Whilst Cata is sunbathing, her sister
stands over her and moves the shadow of her hand over Cata’s face. Cata opens
her eyes and tells Eva that she saw a dolphin while out kayaking. Eva is
sceptical. ‘Was it large or small?’ she asks. ‘Small,’ replies Cata. Later, we
see Cara kayaking past an inflatable toy dolphin lodged in a shallow.
Illusions play a significant
part in the drama. Cata’s grandparents have recently changed the fencing on
their seafront porch to one made of glass. The effect is to suggest that those in
the room are closer to the sea than they actually are. When she comes to stay, Cata’s
mother, Pepa (Núria Prims) is only mildly impressed by the porch. Tomeu is
increasingly agitated by his daughter, a divorcee who has not remarried. Her
rejection of the patriarchy is felt. That Cata and Eva are estranged by their
father accounts for Cata’s bond with her grandfather; he is her only male role
model not her own age, so it seems. She makes friends with Max (Nonni Ardal
Hammarström), a slightly older boy who swims as she kayaks and speaks to her in
English. He’s heading for a career in business, Cata has a year left in school
and hasn’t thought about her future. Cata refuses to have her grandmother file
her nails – unlike Eva, who enjoys the experience – but otherwise identifies
with her. Catalina conducts herself with power and poise when Tomeu and his
widower friends play cards. Tomeu is hungry, but Catalina will make him wait.
For her part, Catalina wants her husband to give Cata driving lessons. Cata is
resistant to this. In Madrid, where she ordinarily resides, she takes public
transport. Besides, she’s too young.
Another illusion is
suggested by the flickering light in the kitchen. Tomeu describes it as a
returning ghost. He does so to amuse Cata but knows he should fix it.
The nature of Cata’s
discovery, arriving late back at the house on her own, a contrast to scenes in
which she is out cycling with Eva, brings into question Tomeu and Eva’s
whereabouts. Why didn’t they notice Catalina’s absence? As she inspects her
grandmother’s body, Cata is watched by a small kitten, almost as if her
grandmother’s spirit had taken feline form. The thought disappears almost
immediately. Iglesias doesn’t show other family members arriving at the scene.
The arrival of Pepa
doesn’t alleviate Tomeu’s suffering. The set of flowers on the lounge table
were sent by her ex-husband rather than by Pepa herself. We are told this by
way of confirming Pepa’s marital status. She and her daughters look through Catalina’s
wardrobe. ‘Is this yours?’ one of the daughters asks Pepa, handling a dress.
‘No,’ replies Pepa, as if suggesting that nothing of hers is left in the house.
Cata fixates on one dress, white with red spots. ‘Don’t let your grandfather
see you in it,’ Pepa tells her. ‘He might get upset.’
Pictured: Cata (Zoe Stein) in her grandmother's dress. A scene from Spanish director Lucía Aleñar Iglesias' feature debut, 'Forastera', expanded from her 2020 short film of the same name. Still courtesy of Alpha Violet
However, Cata starts
wearing the dress as a means of assuming her grandmother’s identity. In one
striking scene, she wears it to a beach party, sitting down next to Max,
tasting his drink and pronouncing it disgusting. Pouring another drink, she
stands on the other side of a flame; she is shown from Max’s point of view. It
is as if she were appearing out of the flames herself; the image is borrowed
from Céline Sciamma’s Portrait
of a Lady on Fire. It is no
surprise that Max walks over to her. They then go for a stroll. In a later
scene, in which Max and Cata listen to the same piece of music through
earphones, one bud each, Max brings up a ‘rumour’, that Cata found her
grandmother. Cata confirms it. She starts describing how she discovered the
body. Max cuts her off. ‘Can we talk about something else?’ he asks with
irritation. He doesn’t explain why the subject is sensitive. Perhaps he is
appalled by Cata’s matter-of-fact explanation.
Cata is used to her mother being only partially focussed on
her life. Her response to her arrival is a question, ‘are you working?’ We
imagine how Cata and Eva watched their parents’ marriage fall apart, though it
is never discussed. The sisters are broadly inseparable, cycling together,
lying on the beach, Eva leaning into her sibling. Cata doesn’t try to improve
her relationship with her mother; the visit to her grandparents appears to be a
welcome retreat from familial tension.
Cata becomes obsessed with the feeling that she is inhabited
by the spirit of her grandmother. Not that she wants to mother Pepa, more than
she seeks an identity that feels more natural than the one that she has. She
has a jovial relationship with Tomeu, teasing him about his command of English.
Tomeu recites his flight deck speech, announcing that they are ‘flying at
36,000 feet’ and that ‘the journey will take 1 hour and 15 minutes’; we surmise
that he was once a short haul pilot for a Spanish airline. In one unsettling
scene, Cata, wearing the red spotted dress, encourages her grandfather to put
on his pilot jacket. Using an old Minolta camera, which we assume still has
film in it, she takes photographs of them both in the mirror. Tomeu is
concerned that she isn’t looking through the viewfinder. ‘Don’t worry,’ she
assures him.
Tomeu wants Pepa to leave. He is irritated by her purchase
of a railing to ensure he doesn’t fall like his wife, insisting that she take
it away. His card games with his widower friends continue. One of the men
remarks how he always sees his late wife; she has never left him. He mainly
sees her ‘when he’s in trouble’. Cata hovers around the card table serving
drinks, having observed her grandmother do the same.
However, her ability to take the place of her grandmother
has its limits. Eva decides to bake a cake, following her grandmother’s
instructions. However, Cata gestures to pour 450 grams of sugar into a bowl,
insisting that her grandmother’s ‘1’ is a ‘4’. Eva scowls. The cake is served
but Tomeu pronounces it dry. ‘It is a good first attempt,’ he adds, tempering
his criticism. ‘Your grandmother was always in the kitchen,’ he adds by way of
suggesting that Catalina had plenty of time to perfect her baking.
The film builds to a festival that both Cata and Eva attend.
It seems altogether too loud for the former. When she hears a bang, she rushes
back to the house. Tomeu is fine. In fact, he fixes the strip light, which no
longer flickers when switched on. No more ghosts. However, Cata has applied a
beauty spot to her cheek to better resemble her grandmother. She tries to
remove it and is unable to do so.
Acting on his late wife’s request, Tomeu takes Cata for a
driving lesson in a local car park. Cata turns the steering wheel as requested
but is unwilling to brake when instructed. Tomeu brings the car to a halt. Cata
looks at her grandfather. ‘It’s me. I’m still here,’ Cata tells him. Tomeu
looks at her with a mixture of thunderous rage and compassion, suggesting that
she snap out of it. She hasn’t so much upset his feelings; he is more concerned
by her form of grief. Later Cata will confess that she hasn’t cried. Not yet.
Pictured: An unreal presence? No, just a shadow over the face of teenager, Cata (Zoe Stein). The opening of Spanish director Lucía Aleñar Iglesias' feature film, 'Forastera'. Still courtesy of Alpha Violet
In the final scene of the film, just as we imagine that the
Pepa and her two daughters are leaving, Cata joins the men for a game of cards,
though Tomeu has warned his friends that she (Cata) is a cheat. The camera
focuses on Cata. She smiles conspiratorially, as if still lost in her delusion.
Forastera describes how people might fool
themselves into believing in the supernatural, succumbing to subjective truth
as a means to explain the world, regardless of objective means to challenge
their view. The film is a period piece. There is no reference to social media.
The festival that Cata attends undoubtedly commodifies past beliefs, allowing
for cosplay – dress-up – but responses to death are not pastimes. Cata may be
joining a game in the final scene but is she really playing by herself,
estranged from a larger reality? The audience is left with the disturbing
thought that even when confronted with reality, we might choose not to see it.
Reviewed at Glasgow Film Festival, Scotland, Odeon
Glasgow Quay (Screen Ten), Tuesday 3 March 2026, 20:30 screening
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