Cypriot filmmaker Myrsini Aristidou's debut feature, Hold Onto Me [+lire aussi :
critique
interview : Myrsini Aristidou
fiche film], is a quiet and sensitive coming-of-age drama about a girl who reunites with her father after many years. At this year's Sundance Film Festival, where the movie premiered in the World Cinema Dramatic Competition, we spoke to the helmer about her approach to the fragile relationship between the two main characters, her cast and the setting in Cyprus.

Cineuropa: What fascinated you about the relationship between the daughter and the father? Does it reflect anything personal?
Myrsini Aristidou: I started exploring this theme in my twenties. It’s been about a decade now since my first short film, Semele, which I made at NYU. All three of my movies deal with this subject in different ways. I’m interested in archetypical relationships – the ones we form as children and that define us emotionally. These early patterns often reappear in the relationships we build later on in life. That was my starting point.

On a personal level, my father was absent when I was growing up. We reconnected in my early teenage years, and there was always a certain awkwardness, but also a sweetness. Over time, you start realising how similar you are, even without having grown up together. That realisation stayed with me.

The father and daughter in the film eventually grow into one entity. How did you approach this connection?
I see them both as lone wolves. There’s a huge age gap, but there’s also a shared sense of solitude. Iris is surrounded by friends, yet she remains an outsider; he is an outsider as well. They’re both outcasts who eventually find each other. At first, the relationship begins pragmatically – he finds her useful to help him with his schemes. But slowly, they grow on each other. They’re both adaptable and very “smart on their feet”. They know how to navigate their surroundings and make the best of difficult circumstances.

Despite the topics of absence and loneliness, the story feels quite light-hearted at several points.
The pain of absence for a child can be very heavy, and the underlying emotions of the film are sadness and loneliness. But I loved the fact that the father brings a certain lightness. The movie doesn’t stay in darkness, and that reflects life. We all carry wounds, but we also move forward, connect and try to understand each other. I wanted that balance to be present.

You deliberately avoid explaining too much – one example being where the father has been all these years. Why was this important for you?
I wanted it to be clear that he’d left because he was probably in trouble. You sense that throughout the movie. When he meets the mother, you understand that she didn’t want him around, because he was unreliable. For me, that was enough. I didn’t feel the need to explain exactly where he was or what he did. His character already tells us a lot – even how he can lose his sense of time, how years can pass by without him fully realising it. What mattered more to me was their reconnection – those small, sweet, awkward moments between them.

How did you approach casting the two leads?
I cast both roles simultaneously. I found Christos Passalis in Greece and the girl, Maria Petrova, in Cyprus. She had no previous acting experience, which made me hesitate at first, but her gaze was incredibly strong. When I finally saw them together, it was immediately clear. They looked like family. Their physicality and energy worked perfectly. From that moment on, I knew this was the right combination.

Did you rehearse much with them?
Not at all. I wanted their relationship to develop naturally during the shoot. At first, there was a lot of discomfort – Christos doesn’t have children, so there was an awkwardness between them, which I actually liked. By the end, they were teasing each other and playing constantly. That bond was built during filming, even though we didn’t shoot chronologically.

The Cypriot landscape feels like a third protagonist.
Yes, especially the shipyard location. I had wanted to shoot there for many years. It’s a place of transition, where things are constantly being fixed. Boats represent journeys, even if that meaning remains mostly subconscious. Cyprus itself is very quiet, and that emptiness forces you to look inwards – that energy was important for the film.

What were the biggest challenges during production?
The shoot was physically demanding. We filmed in July and August, in temperatures of up to 45 degrees Celsius. The water scenes were shot at night, in very cold conditions. Shooting on boats is always complex, especially with a child involved. We also shot in an active police station, which meant frequent interruptions. Many locations were challenging, but that intensity shaped the film.