Talking to … Milagros Mumenthaler

Referring to the opening shot in Geneva of the protagonist looking out through a large window to the river—was that gaze, that point of view, also yours when you imagine the film?

Geneva is a city that is part of my life—it was my home when my family went into exile in Switzerland during the Argentinian military dictatorship. I was reading Siri Hustvedt’s The Shaking Woman, where she recounts a very particular experience: while giving a public talk at a tribute to her father, her body suddenly began to tremble with violence, but she kept speaking as if nothing was happening. She was aware that something strange was going on, but her mind would continue while her body was reacting differently. It’s from there that Lina's character started to emerge—in line with what Hustvedt explored, a woman for whom there would be no definitive answer to her behavior.

In “THE CURRENTS”, a formal issue that was already prevalent in your previous  films returns. How does one represent the intimate? How does cinema give form to something that moreoften seems to belong to literature?

What interested me was to navigate through Lina’s emotions: her thoughts, desires, and yearnings. But scriptwriting and filming are two different things. So I had to look for efficient ways to translate it. During that phase, rereading Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf helped me a lot, especially studying how the novel flows through the protagonist’s consciousness and shifts from one character to another. In the case of THE CURRENTS, are the characters really doing what we’re seeing? Or is Lina imagining or projecting herself onto them? I enjoyed working with that kind-of-ambiguity in meanings. I made the conscious choice to start the film with a mystery and sustain it throughout the narrative. 

Lina always seems to be running away: from herself, her past, her current family. Why?

She’s a character who can’t find where she belongs, because she ran away from her origins, from where she came. That makes it very difficult for her to fit in elsewhere. Her anchor has come loose, she’s been adrift for a long time, and this moment in the film brings it to light. The film finds Lina in this state and follows her through it. She’s a contradictory character because she has the courage not to resist what’s happening to her, yet at the same time, she doesn’t confront anything head-on. She simply moves forward. 

Denying one's origins seems like a somehow pathological Argentinian way of being. Also in THE CURRENTS?

I didn’t set out with that intention, but it’s clear there’s a mystery, a trauma, and a visceral need to flee away from something. She needed to reinvent herself as someone else: she stopped being Cata and became Lina. In any case, she didn’t want to end up like her mother – she could not and would not see herself in that mirror, because as a daughter she had experienced abandonment. Lina doesn’t want to repeat that same behavior, that family legacy. But any interpretation is valid.

There’s a strong feminine presence – not only with the protagonist but also in the traditional attributes associated with women. How did these elements get incorporated, and why?

The world of embroidery in particular has always fascinated me. It’s a delicate, detailed, artisanal task that women have been doing for centuries, always on the verge of disappearing, yet still present. That antique embroidery Lina finds in a shop awakens something latent from her past. Suddenly this  brings her back to her mother’s world – the one she fled away from, but in which she still recognizes a legacy. 

Lina always is in a strange state of restlessness, of longing, which colors the entire point of view of the film. How did this romantic sensibility influence your conception of the film?

Lina is a character who tries to fulfill all conventional roles, checking all and each of the boxes: being a good wife, as well as a good mother, belonging to a family, being responsible at work. Her external world is thrown into crisis by what she’s internally experiencing. It results in a deep conflict: This opposition deeply vibrates within Lina. She needs to feel more alive, to understand who she really is.

How did you approach the crucial scene in the Palacio Barolo in Buenos Aires?

This scene is the most directly inspired by Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. In this moment, we’re with Lina but also, simultaneously, with other characters—or projections of herself onto these characters—all illuminated by the rotating light sweeping across the city. And all paths, in some way, lead back to that unresolved past that Lina must manage to face.

When did you think of Isabel Aimé González Sola who plays the protagonist? 

I didn’t want a very recognizable actress who would bring her own personality to the character. I was rather looking for someone more enigmatic, mysterious. So we started looking for Argentinian actresses living abroad, and Isabel came up. In France, she has been working on stage for years, as well as for some film and television. She was exactly what I was looking for. I particularly enjoy working with actors; it’s something I love—discovering and revealing the character together. In fact, Isabel is very different from Lina in many ways, except that she possesses an absolute mystery, which connects her to the protagonist.

Interview by Luciano Monteagudo, adapted by SWISS FILMS.
Courtesy of Luxbox.