(Written by Intern, Shaun E)
Icelandic writer/director Helena Stefansdottir arrives at SXSW with Natatorium, a dark drama/thriller that peers through the murky waters of family trauma. Mysteries and secrets deep within a family’s elegant mansion unfold through powerful acting and appealing cinematography. Intrigue is effectively garnered throughout without drowning in muddled confusion. Dreamy and entrancing, Stefansdottir lets tensions sink in slowly while examining the influence of religious zeal and generational cycles of abuse.
18-year-old Lilja (Ilmur María Arnardóttir) travels alone to her grandparents’ home, hoping to stay with them as she auditions for a performance troupe in town without her father, Magnus’, (Arnar Dan Kristjánsson) knowledge. Lilja learns more about the family that has been kept at arm’s length; she bonds with her endearing and religious grandmother, Áróra (Elin Petersdottir), bed-ridden uncle, Kalli (Jónas Alfreð Birkisson), and learns more about an aunt who shares her name that died young. Meanwhile, Magnus asks Kalli’s twin, Vala (Stefania Berndsen), to convince Lilja to stay with her instead, uncovering the fraught relationship between Vala and their mother. Conflicts arise as Lilja shows resistance in leaving with Vala, ignorant to the full truth of why Magnus and Vala are so at odds with their parents. She is further inclined to stay once she discovers an alluring pool in the basement, despite heeds from Vala and Magnus that circumstances are not quite what they seem.
The greatest stand out here is sheer chemistry between characters, especially in moments focused on the push-and-pull of dominance between matriarchal Áróra and her cowed children. Stefansdottir utilizes a moody orchestral score and hazy imagery to bring a surreal aesthetic, yet balances this with dynamic intercut montages, as well as awkward or intense conversations to accentuate discord. Pacing is initially too fast, creating a bit of a challenge in understanding the family tree. Thankfully, it slows to a more comprehensive speed as dramatic action increases. Focus switches from Lilja towards Vala and Áróra’s strained connection in the second act, somewhat pushing Lilja’s arc to the background.
Some threads are left without much follow-through such as Kalli’s sexuality and Lilja’s disapproval of Magnus’ pregnant girlfriend, Írena (Kristín Pétursdóttir). Furthermore, the ending is rather abrupt, which may feel unsatisfying to some considering the strong build-up. Nevertheless, unanswered questions are not always a detriment, and it certainly keeps the viewer curious as the credits roll.
While the narrative wades in obscurity and vague visual metaphors, it does not shy away from diving into and explicitly discussing toxic relationships and abuse under the premise of spiritual practices. It is difficult to say objectively if subtlety or blunt commentary provides more productive discussion around serious subjects. Stefansdottir uses a mix of both approaches, and even jumps into the deep end towards the third act in an exposition dump about past trauma. Execution could have been smoother in a couple parts, though uplifted by compelling performances and serious treatment of the matter.
Natatorium is undeniably enigmatic, yet its open-ended nature has appeal. I personally felt my mind run wild with theories; if “thought-provoking” was a goal, Stefansdottir definitely achieved it. For enjoyers of psychological thrillers in the vein of Hereditary or Midsommar, this is a strong contender, and makes for a captivating watch.
Dip a toe into the cool waters of Natatorium when it premieres at 2024’s SXSW Film Festival.
