An enigmatic outsider enters the home of a bourgeois family, with each person feeling irresistibly and sexually drawn toward the guest: this is not Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Teorema — or perhaps Bruce LaBruce’s The Visitor — but instead Mariana Wainstein’s debut feature Linda [+lire aussi :
bande-annonce
fiche film]. The film is premised on the same idea but is considerably tamer — not to mention how it avoids the flashy, blunt attempts at class satire of the somewhat similar Saltburn [+lire aussi :
critique
fiche film] — instead leaving us to linger in family dynamics. Linda world-premiered in Toronto’s Discovery strand and attributes its screenplay to seven writers including Wainstein.

With flowing hair, dark features and all the makings of what the male gaze would perceive as a femme fatale, the effortlessly compelling and aptly named Linda (Eugenia “China” Suárez) takes up, in her cousin’s absence, a job as a domestic worker for a very wealthy Argentine family (case in point: the family canonically knows Colin Farrell). Both parents, Luisa (Julieta Cardinali) and Camilo (Rafael Spregelburd), and their teenage children, Matilda (Minerva Casero) and Ceferino (Felipe Otaño), are quickly smitten with her, primarily from a physical perspective. 

We know just slightly more about the eponymous guest than we do about Pasolini’s visitor — she has a young daughter in her hometown of San Juan — but an alluded-to divine force is also as play in Wainstein's film. In fact, Linda isn’t just “Linda” at all — her name derives from that of the Argentine folk Catholic legend Deolinda Correa, who is said to have been giving life even in death, as she was found dead with her baby miraculously still feeding from her full breast. While the family perceives her as simply mysterious eye candy, Linda's self-perception is entirely different, even though she is aware that her appearance attracts unwanted attention.

Sexual desire permeates the household as Linda navigates the space day by day, demonstrating her disdain — primarily toward Camilo and Ceferino — but also indulging herself through the power the family grants her through their lust. However, what could be a considerably spicier cautionary tale interrogating desire, heteronormativity and entangled class power dynamics becomes more of a straightforward lesson to simply be respectful toward other people, especially when in positions of power. Linda engages in far less narrative risk-taking than it promises: we are left to fill in the gaps with bits and pieces of desire onscreen — sniffing perfume sprayed on a neck, a hand on a shoulder — shown especially between Linda and the female characters who, ultimately, treat her with more grace.

Wainstein, with beautiful camerawork by DoP Marcos Hastrup, makes crystal clear the distinctions between our protagonist’s desire and the lustful attitudes projected upon her, gently reflecting her perspective. Linda is either intimately invested, as shown through intimate close-ups, or otherwise visually and emotionally distanced from those with whom she wishes no proximity. She departs just as quickly as she'd arrived, leaving no (visible) trail in her wake other than memories — Wainstein leaves the mystery of what might happen next up to the viewer.

Linda is an Argentinian-Spanish production by Pampa Films (Argentina), Gloriamundi Producciones (Spanish) and Bourke Films (Argentina). Meikincine Entertainment is handling international sales.