Moldovan-Romanian journalist and filmmaker Lina Vdovîi, working with her life partner and co-director Radu Ciorniciuc (Acasa - My Home [+lee también:
crítica
tráiler
entrevista: Radu Ciorniciuc
ficha de la película], for which Vdovîi wrote the screenplay), delivers a super-dense, multilayered, personal portrait of transgenerational trauma caused by traditional patriarchy in the Toronto-premiering documentary Tata [+lee también:
entrevista: Lina Vdovîi y Radu Ciornic…
ficha de la película]. "We never questioned our parents; we knew this was what life was like, and we just went on," says her father, Pavel. He was the reason she left her home and family at the age of 18, and she hasn't been in contact with him for 25 years. But when he reached out for help, it seems that her journalistic instinct perhaps reminded her of the need to untangle the painful knots of the past, and she went for it.

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Pavel has been working in Italy for 12 years, cleaning a large estate, taking care of plants, picking grapes and bottling wine. Throughout the years, his employer has been abusing him psychologically and physically, and he sends Lina a video in which we see bruises all over his hands and neck. But before she and Radu go to Italy, we start learning about the abuse Pavel inflicted on his wife and three daughters, through Lina's voice-over and home videos. In the latter, there is no visible physical violence, but there are video letters that the children have been sending him. Perhaps it is a suggestion that the viewer picks up on, aware of where the story is going, but these videos seem to hide an apprehension and maybe even fear under the surface of happy songs and proud school reports. After all, Lina tells us as much: the fear of being beaten for the slightest reason is what she remembers the most from her childhood.

Once in Italy, they equip Pavel with a hidden camera, which provides for several blurry, visceral segments of pure violence, anger and despair. They also hire a lawyer whose hopes rest on this footage and incriminating documents that Pavel managed to save.

In parallel, the story of family trauma unfolds, along with several raw exchanges between father and daughter. He apologises and asks for forgiveness, but also looks for justification for his actions in the stories of his own father. Meanwhile, Lina speaks to her mother who has survived cancer, which gave her some sense of agency – but she is still frightened that Pavel might be coming back. There is also Mum's mother, a wise, bright old woman who survived three marriages without being hit once. With a degree in Psychology, she knew how to handle her men. And on top of all of this, Lina is now pregnant.

With all these elements neatly ordered into layers that alternate through clear, finely graded editing, there is no need for elaboration. The complex and painful story is transposed into a wider social picture, with the abuser now being abused in a different context, but it is clear that it all comes from the same source: father, boss – isn't the archetype one and the same?

Small details such as Lina's body language when Pavel hugs her, their tone in their conversations or her recollection of a short-lived marriage add further psychological layers. And if many documentaries with difficult topics try to end on a positive note, as soon as Pavel is back, he continues verbally abusing his wife. Lina's newborn child is the only glimmer of hope, but it is rather a significant one in this completely unembellished way of telling the story.

Tata is a co-production between Romania's Manifest Film, Germany's Corso Film and HBO Max. Autlook Filmsales has the international rights.