Júlia (Júlia Diago) likes photographing strangers on bridges, using an old film camera. She likes the symbolism of the concept: two discrete objects united by a third that still allows for distinction between the elements – simultaneously a dualism and a monism. As she hails from Barcelona, this is a fitting metaphor for her life in Glasgow, where she gets by washing dishes by night and herself seems to act as the bridge between discrete worlds that coexist within herself. This is the basis for Downriver a Tiger, the feature debut by writer-director Víctor Diago, who has also worked as an editor for television series and films. The work competed in IndieLisboa’s International Competition and also enjoyed its world premiere at the same time.

Downriver a Tiger, however, opens with a cryptic interaction. While in bed, Júlia asks a man, Shubham (Shubham Kirbe), to tell her a story from his childhood in India – the story of being followed by a tiger while crossing over a bridge in a forest. This feeling of being stalked never seemed to go away, transforming into another overarching metaphor for the film – always having to be on one’s guard in one’s environment, or always feeling like something dangerous is looming in the background.

Júlia floats through different environments as the camera captures what she sees like a silent observer, but she’s not afraid to interact with her surroundings. Glaswegians happily chat to her, going about their days and engaging in typical activities. The film, for instance, features a magnet-fishing family, and the sequence in which Júlia engages with them has a very documentary-like quality.

DoP Dani Benejam captures these interactions as if they are still somewhat alien to Júlia, or as if she is separated from them – not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way that demonstrates her distance. It’s only when she meets Shubham, an outsider, that she is able to connect more deeply. Benejam also cultivates an extreme dreamlike feel in the lightly grainy film quality, with Júlia constantly captured in medium shots or even close-ups, as if trying to close that emotional gap with the tightness of the framing.

Diago interjects historical film footage from the National Library of Scotland, visibly leaving in watermarks from archival imagery. This becomes a memorable choice that acts as a tribute to the archive while showing that much has still stayed the same, depicting how much of Glasgow existed before her arrival and before we can ever witness it. One striking moment cuts between Júlia on public transport and an archival video that practically looks like it could have been taken in the span of the same few seconds. The attempt to transcend time doesn’t always work perfectly, but the integration of film footage forces us to think about what it means to enter a space and capture it. Maybe we’re creating a bridge between two spaces as we do it, Diago seems to be saying.

Downriver a Tiger was produced by Spain’s Boogaloo Films, while its world sales are being handled by The Open Reel.