Swimming Home

I was intrigued by the synopsis, but it turned out as a disappointment. Probably director and (co-)writer Justin Anderson had the sincere intention to make a moving, tension-filled drama about a waning relationship, but the chosen form was at best enigmatic; or to put it more frankly: pretentious, tedious and increasingly irritating.

The pace is extremely slow; the narrative (as far as it is discernible) is constantly interrupted by scenes that seem to be completely at odds with it, (like extensive sequences where dancers perform almost gymnastic routines, or a random naked man on a boat); the main characters (Isabel and Joe) talk in riddles and behave totally erratic; and the score is annoyingly bleak. The only positive thing is the photography, but that was greatly helped by the wonderful light and beautiful surroundings on this (I guess) Greek island.

The woman Kitti, who is found as an uninvited guest, drifting in the pool of the unhappy couple, walks around the premise stark naked for most of the time - sure, she has a beautiful body, but it very much impressed as deliberately provocative; her role as an erotic temptress could as easily have been achieved with a sexy bikini. Another example of such obvious trying to be provocative: a weird and extremely cringey peeing-scene, that almost made me gasp in disbelief!

Main character Joe reveals halfway into the movie a traumatic background (apparently he was once a child-fugitive from the Balkan), and then there's suddenly the suggestion of Kitti being some sort of angelic messenger who has come to persuade Joe to go home, wherever this "home" might be (maybe even "death"), - at least, that's what I made of it all.

Watching this film I only got more and more puzzled and weary and annoyed. I know, maybe my too simple brain should be blamed, stupidly missing out on tons of profound metaphors. Or could there be something seriously amiss with the way the makers have told and pictured their story? In my humble opinion it's definitely the latter.

Imagine arriving at your fancy Greek villa only to find a naked woman floating in your pool. Do you: A) Ring the cops?

B) Turn Unga bunga, blast some bestial war metal and take her out?

C) Invite her to stay, because bourgeois dysfunction?

If you picked C, congratulations-you're now in Justin Anderson's Swimming Home, a movie that mashes up everything Lynchian, Masashi Yamamoto, Jacques Deray, Antonioni, Christopher Doyle, Alain Resnaise, Lawrence Michael Levine, Angelos Frantzis, Eva Kolcze, and many more for a low-budget retreat with invitation to Death and dualism as a central point. Christopher Abbott plays Joe, a poet who looks permanently constipated by life, while Ariane Labed steals the film as Kitti, the enigmatic stranger.

Ultimately, Swimming Home feels like a bold directorial debut. Anderson isn't afraid to be weird, to experiment with visuals and sound with a little bit Lynch, a little bit Greek weird wave, and a whole lot of its own strange thing like the interpretive dance sequences that feel like a secret sex gymnastics club directed by David Lynch lite version.

Is it pretentious? Absolutely. Anderson's debut isn't for everyone (hence the polarizing ratings). The dialogue is often stilted, the characters frustratingly opaque, and the plot more of a vibe than a story. (Is the girl who pees on Abbott's leg a metaphor for death? Maybe! Who cares, it's art lol).

But if you dig the strange, hypnotic rhythm, it's hard not to be seduced. Anderson's bold, uneven vision feels like stumbling upon a low budget secret cinematic ritual, one that's equal parts pretentious and intoxicating and just don't expect a future arthouse classic.