Translating Deborah Levy’s elusive and prickly novel of the same name for the big screen, Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s directorial feature debut arrives on a tide of goodwill. Following a string of impressive screenwriting credits and snagging a coveted spot in competition at the 75th Berlin International Film Festival, where the film competed for the Golden Bear accolade, Hot Milk needs only evoke the sun-drenched, thematically jagged atmosphere found on Levy’s page to render a textured and dynamic feature for audiences to sink their teeth into — but something has soured in the process and this Hot Milk has curdled.
Sofia has travelled to the Spanish seaside with her mother Rose in the hope of finding a cure for a mysterious illness that has plagued her for over two decades. Under the beating sun, the underlying tension between the pair reached a breaking point from which they cannot return, as years of suffocation and the limitations imposed by her mother’s condition threaten to swallow them both. Led by Emma Mackey and Fiona Shaw as mother and daughter, Hot Milk also features supporting performances from Vicky Krieps and Vincent Perez.
It’s not very often that you can so specifically pinpoint a fatal flaw in a film, but Hot Milk’s one overriding and unavoidable issue is so evidently clear in its debilitation that it affects the film on almost every other level. A story that should be told amidst a blistering atmosphere that lodges itself under your skin instead unfolds in an empty room of a film, one that so catastrophically underwrites the tension and emotion that it feels genuinely disappointing that it could all go so wrong with the odds stacked so heavily in its favour.
If Lenkiewicz’s direction was as sophisticated in picking up the agitation as it was the beauty of the surroundings, we’d be halfway to something promising. Instead of that, we are stranded with a feature that operates like a postcard from the Spanish seaside town in which it is set; beautiful, but paper-thin. Early on, it begins to feel like we are running through the motions, rather than genuinely, palpably bringing the tension to the levels it needs to be out to suggest a two-decades-in-the-making build-up of angst and frustration is about to overspill; it should be charged with an electricity and yet, for most of its lean 93 minute runtime, it hardly simmers at all. If Hot Milk were to look at how last year’s equally-sweaty, suitably sweltering Challengers was able to dial up the intensity, prodding character dynamics rich in intrigue and excitement, it could shape itself into something truly captivating, but it manages nothing of the sort.
There’s little chance on the screenplay front of alleviating the issues with tone and atmosphere. While the novel is so successful in contextualising the deep-rooted relationships so important in understanding their dynamic, Lenkiewicz’s adaptation hardly presents a backstory at all, leaving us with a vagueness that pushes audiences to arm's length and refuses to let them close to the central pair, whose relationship is so crucial. Sofia’s frustrations are downplayed at times, to the point where, as we reach what should be a cathartic release of unaddressed anger, it hardly reaches the vital crescendo that the admittedly audaciously brave conclusion promises. What we are left with is an undefined and uncertain dynamic that all parties tussle with to poor effect.
Emma Mackie does well to scratch at the surface as Sofia’s psyche reaches a crisis point, but rarely to the extent needed to really sense the severity of her experiences. Likewise, Fiona Shaw impressively walks the line of unreliability well, feeding into the suspicion of Rose’s condition, but she is never afforded the scope to really thrive. Vicky Krieps’ fleeting presence is intended to be mystifying, but it comes across as confusing, like a secondary thought that the writing fails to develop meaningfully, despite holding the key to potentially tie the whole experience together. Her mismanaged character should beguile, but instead repels an audience who should be fascinated by her, with her lacklustre chemistry opposite Mackie particularly to blame.
A heady set of themes on the page and a strong cast cannot deliver on the potential in Hot Milk’s fascinating concept. What should be a throbbing atmosphere of unspoken truths and long-standing frustrations is rendered completely and utterly flat by its creators' inability to provide us with the storytelling and tonal texture so desperately needed for it to thrive. A dreadfully disappointing affair that cannot dig into the character dynamics and prickly themes to bring out the best in its narrative, leaving this Hot Milk sadly spoiled.