Forastera, the title of Spanish filmmaker Lucía Aleñar Iglesias’s Mallorca-set feature debut, roughly translates to “foreigner.” It’s a word often used by locals to denote the sizable tourist population, both from mainland Spain and other countries, who vacation on the popular island destination. The term aptly describes Cata (Zoe Stein) and Eva (Martina García), a pair of teenage sisters who, accompanied by their chic mother Pepa (Núria Prims), trade oppressive Madrileño summers for the cool sea breeze at their grandparents’ beachfront house.
However, another foreign presence begins to permeate the family’s languid days when shortly after their arrival, Cata discovers a tragic scene: her grandmother, cold and unmoving on the floor. This sudden loss sends the family into acute psychological distress, as interpersonal dynamics shift in their attempt to maintain homeostasis. “You look just like her,” is a common phrase directed at Cata, who was named after her grandmother, during the funeral. It’s clearly meant as a compliment, but it also sounds prophetic.
Similarities in name and visage do not only make it easy for Cata to emulate her grandmother—aided by the discovery of a red and white moire romper in the back of her namesake’s wardrobe, which the teen seldom takes off—but for her family to flat-out project their relationship with the late matriarch onto Cata. Pepa’s grief causes her to regress into a temperamental version of her teenage self, often directing moody remarks at her daughter. Meanwhile, grandfather Tomeu (Lluís Homar) begins to see Cata as an avatar for his late wife. She effectively becomes his caretaker, though he largely responds with curtness as opposed to comfort. Eva, however, ventures outside of the inadvertent psychodrama on display, opting for quotidian summertime shenanigans to distract her from domestic tension.
Cata is essentially adrift—in company, identity, and place. Yet, a palpable presence keeps her centered. Forastera isn’t necessarily a ghost story, but at times rays of light dance about the house in ways that feel guided by a spiritual force. There is no spectral visit, but that doesn’t mean these characters aren’t haunted. Grief is a peculiar thing, and Iglesias never casts judgement on any character’s particular process, instead positing that sometimes a foreign entity is less destabilizing than one’s present company. And, how lovely is it to think of an innocent bump in the night as a loved one defying dimensional divides?
Forastera runs May 29-June 4 at Film Forum. Director Lucía Aleñar Iglesias will be in attendance for a couple of Q&As this weekend.
