Review: Breathing Underwater
- Luxembourg director Eric Lamhène’s debut film employs realism and sensitivity to explore the topic of domestic abuse, following in the footsteps of a resident in a shelter for abused women

“You’ve only just arrived and you’ve already apologised twice. You’re not in your house anymore”. It’s a simple phrase but it opens up a whole new world for our protagonist. What does it mean to be subjected to violence within the walls of your own home? What psychological state does a woman live in day-to-day when she’s been stripped of her dignity by the very person who professes to love her? In Luxembourg director Eric Lamhène’s first feature film, Breathing Underwater [+see also:
trailer
interview: Eric Lamhène, Rae Lyn Lee
film profile], all this has already happened. But if there’s one thing this film conveys by small touches and with great authenticity, through looks, silences and eloquent dialogue, it’s the hidden, inner pain that domestic abuse victims carry inside of them, even once they’ve up and left. Following its debut at the Warsaw Festival in October, the film has now competed in the 25th edition of the Lecce European Film Festival, where it nabbed both the Jury Prize and the Cineuropa Prize (read our news).
Written by the director in league with Singapore’s Lee Rae Lyn, who also oversaw the film’s photography, the screenplay is a mosaic of true stories told by women and collected over time. We meet the protagonist, Emma (the brilliant Carla Juri), following a disastrous fall down the stairs which has landed her in hospital. “Should we call your husband?”, the visiting doctor asks. “No”, Emma replies. And it’s immediately clear that something isn’t right. On the doctor’s discreet suggestion, Emma decides not to return home and accepts the offer to take refuge in a women’s shelter for domestic abuse victims. It’s in this place of pain and resilience, inhabited by women of differing backgrounds who are united by the desire to take better care of themselves and to start their lives over, that the larger part of the film unfolds.
Chaos, children playing, climbing plants on the stairs, colours: the refuge is a hub of vitality and adaptability, the women who live here all bear the same burden of a difficult past – which in many cases is still very present – and their trust must be earned over time. When a new person arrives, however, the balance shifts. At first, Emma feels like a fish out of water, because, when all’s said and done, her husband has never hit her… Denial is one aspect of abuse that the film very subtly explores, as is the continual temptation to fall back into their torturer’s arms, to minimise the situation and to insist that he can still change. But abuse against women doesn’t have to be physical; it can also be underhand, taking advantage of uncertainty and shortfalls (in affection, first and foremost), financial dependence (“I’ve always looked after you”) and humiliation, to the point of stripping away the victim’s self-esteem and taking the wind from beneath their wings.
This is what we read on Carla Juri’s face as she expertly conveys Emma’s varying states of mind: pain, confusion, seeming apathy, and then the return of her smile, of hope and of courage. The protagonist shares this path of salvation with her three partners in misadventure, Khadij, Esperanza and Sascha (respectively Véronique Tshanda Beya, Esperanza Martín González-Quevedo and Alessia Raschella), whose well-delineated characters help render this story of rebirth and female solidarity so touching, true to life and captivating.
Breathing Underwater was produced by Samsa Film (Luxembourg) in co-production with Artémis Productions (Belgium). World sales are entrusted to Berlin-based Pluto Film.
(Translated from Italian)
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