All We Cannot See
Introduction
The Spanish film All We Cannot See (a direct symbolism of the pain in people) has all the trappings of a road movie – two protagonists with suppressed feelings, an inkling of pain that would soon transition into fun, frolik and complexities, and a road trip that would eventually be life changing. And the pessimistic mood is set immediately on cue when you are introduced to one of the two protagonists Aroa (Maria Valverde). One glance of Aroa tells you that something isn’t right with her. You see her blank stares while working with animals, taking a moment to use the restroom in order to cry, while just not being quite happy in life. The scenic beauty of the countryside of Spain isn’t enough to cheer her up too, even as you witness a sense of helplessness and borderline suicidal tendencies with Aroa. But as they say, chance meetings can literally transform your life, something that Aroa discovers when she stumbles upon Miquela (Bruna Cusi) for the first time. Miquela shares an empathetic outlook towarda Aroa, despite being strangers to her. Their second encounter at the station is enough to flag off a friendship through a cup of coffee, that soon threatens to be cut short given how Miquela is looking to relocate to Portugal. With nowhere to go herself, Aroa agrees on accompanying Miquela in a life-changing journey that eventually forms the crux of the drama.
Story & Screenplay
Written by Alberto Arvelo and Wendy Guerra, the core dynamics of All We Cannot See remaims that between Miquela and Aroa. Both these protagonists have contrasting personalities to begin with – Aroa is emotionally a little more expressive (although not committing to her pain in words), and Miquela is a lot more resolute and restrained. And ironically, these contrasting traits form a perfect combination given that both characters do not carry any baggage of sorts. There is an organic transition from being strangers to friends and later lovers, but the core transition of self discovery through their journey from Spain to Portugal does not change.
You are witness to flashes of pain experienced by Aroa when the duo share a room together. The nightmares and trauma of her past continue to haunt Aroa, who is isn’t exactly able to communicate her pain to Miquela. There is a sense of ambiguity that the writers want the viewers to dwell on, with respect to both characters (Aroa in particular), something that would be discovered along the way and on their journeys. For instance, you get to know that Aroa doesn’t deal with animals but infact, she is a participant in the slaughter of rabbits, a fact that is enough to raise questions about her trauma and past emotions. What if, and what if Aroa were to be a serial killer? The seeds of distrust are sown in Miquela’s mind as much as the viewer’s minds too.
The backdrop of a potential war erupting is used as a sort of a symbolism here, representing chaos around the two protagonists. It almost is an extension of their trauma that both the protagonists have left behind from their past lives, signalling a change of moving ahead. Hence, the plotpoint of a war is only kept on the background while forming a lurking feeling of ominous signs doing the rounds, that is often masked by the good times that the duo share with each other. And yet, the feeling of suppressed emotions is breached when Miquela warms up to Aroa while mentioning about her twin sister who had died in their childhood. As a memory, Miquela is holding onto her hair-locks that act as a symbol of holding onto her trauma.
The dynamics between the duo soon turns romantic, but with romance, you are almost assured of the baggage of complexity being airdropped as well. The idea of a sudden proposal for marriage in the parking lot doesn’t sit right with Miquela, who starts to doubt the intentions of Aroa, given that the latter wasn’t always truthful to her. And here, the trauma of a breakup coincides with that of a sudden discovery about Aroa with respect to her past, that completely changes the equation, almost leading to pain and angst as vital byproducts of abuse. This, even while there is a deliberate ambiguity around the identity of the perpetrator, with the makers telling us to focus on the trauma of an individual who is scarred for life while everything else just did not matter. The predictability of the situation is overhauled by the core dynamics of the duo, that makes this trip worth while. And in the same breath, you also witness a sense of hope to culminate the drama, that was quite well written!
Dialogues, Music & Direction
The dialogues always have a balancing emotion that laces the narrative. The pessimistic start to the drama is balanced by an immediate sense of hope for Aroa when she meets Miquela for the first time, something that is represented through the conversations that are exchanged. Likewise, a sudden proposal in a scene, is balanced by a sense of ambiguity and distrust that again balances the narrative through the conversations. The BGM relies on the natural sounds of the countryside, while delivering a drama that is supremely breezy but also accounting for emotions brimming beneath the surface. The cinematography comprises of frames that are liberating with the wide angle shots that beautifully allow the viewers to imbibe the positivity of the surroundings. Yet when the focus shifts on the characters, you witness tight closeups with a chance to peek into the psyche of the characters. The editing is crisp but also devoid of sudden jump cuts while keeping the leisurely mood of the drama intact. Director Alberto Arvelo does a remarkable job in exploring the suppressed emotions of the two protagonists, while creating an environment of transition that coincides with their individual journeys of self discovery and liberty. There are complex emotions and revelations along the way, at times even a little manipulative with the detour and the staging, but largely, the emotions do land, thereby summing up a good job in the office for the director.
Performances
This is essentially a two-character film and the performances remain brilliant. Bruna Cusi as Miquela is excellent in a character holding onto her childhood trauma laced with a sense of loss, by almost suppressing it and using her appearance and posture as a shield. On the first glance, you wouldn’t be able to guess the pain suppressed within her, but slowly as you get acquainted to her, you notice palpable emotions erupting along the way. And Bruna manages to leave a lasting impression here. Maria Valverde as Aroa has a directly opposing arc wherein her pain and trauma is reflected on her face, only to be highlighted further along the way. In that regard, Maria uses her expressions beautifully while allowing her body language to communicate her pain. Her drooping shoulders at the start tell you a tale or two, something that only gives way to positivity and hope when she meets Miquela. And Maria does a brilliant job here, sharing a crackling chemistry with her co-star while making for a solid impact. Both these performers shoulder the film and account for a heartful watch.
Conclusion
As a part of our Tribeca Film Festival coverage, All We Cannot See is a pondering tale of suppressed emotions and self discovery backed by wonderful performances, that makes for a heartfelt watch.
