The most difficult part of being sober is not always keeping clear of drinks or drugs. What’s harder is confronting family, friends – or simply life itself – without the anaesthesia of alcohol. Addiction is a part of one’s personality, not just a harmful habit. And when it’s gone, returning to the world is like smashing into a rock, as Kornél Mundruczó’s Berlinale Competition entry At the Sea competently observes through the story of a woman (Amy Adams).

At the Sea may not reach the lofty heights of Mundruczó’s earlier work, but its restraint feels deliberate. It observes how addiction survives not only in the body, but also in expectations, ambition and inherited perfectionism. Sobriety here is less about abstinence than about dismantling a lifelong architecture of control. The story, penned by Kata Weber, is relevant in a society that strives for perfection and insists on numbing pain. Although probably not to such an extreme extent as Adams’ character, Laura, does. She is a former ballerina and the erstwhile head of a dance company, who grew up in the shadow of her father – a genius choreographer, whose perfectionism and addiction made him an unstable and sometimes threatening father figure. Clearly, she took after him in more than just her job.

The film paints this emotional landscape through recurring flashbacks from Laura’s childhood and through her own words. At times, these feel repetitive, but they serve their purpose. Instead of going into nuance and adding some twists and turns here and there, Mundruczó investigates how his leading character functions in a family, which in this case consists of gentle, caring husband Martin (Murray Bartlett), an unsuccessful painter; a teenage daughter (Chloe East), who is on the path to becoming like her mother; and a primary-school-aged son (Redding L Munsell). He is traumatised after a DUI car accident that Laura caused, which is what forced her into rehab in the first place.

The director tries to make the story as universal and as relevant as possible, even though it’s set in artistic and affluent circles, and he is quite successful at this. At the same time, it’s clear that the film comments on the permissive treatment of substance abuse in such circles. These people’s excuse is their need to be creative, or to numb existential pain, and the fact that their alcohol is expensive and sipped from crystal glassware makes it… well, not an addiction.

What comes across as slightly incomprehensible, though, is the question of why Laura, well in her forties, is still kept hostage by her traumatising childhood. It seems like painful memories are the only connection with what she has lost, and she is not ready to let go of that part of her identity yet. However, all of this is made credible and resonates powerfully through the visceral performance of Amy Adams, who incidentally started her career as a dancer. She oozes fatigue and confusion, yet clearly states that her character is used to having agency and just needs time to adjust to a new pace of life. She sets the tone for the entire movie, and just one look at her puffy eyes is more telling than pages and pages of dialogue. Even when the script falters, Adams never does. Through her, the film finds its emotional truth: recovery is not a dramatic transformation, but rather the exhausting act of staying present. And sometimes, that is radical enough.

At the Sea is a collaboration between the USA and Hungary, staged by Ryder Picture Company, AR Content and Hammerstone Studios, and co-produced by Ashland Hill, Proton Cinema and LB Entertainment. mk2 Films manages its world sales.