A Melancholic Freedom in the Gaze of a Promising Director
A gaze that lingers on the horizon of the freedom to be who you are: this is the feeling that Epa (Aris Mejias) conveys throughout the feature film Foreigner. Here there is contemplation, but also confrontation, and Michelle Malley Campos’ direction is able to translate this dichotomy. Epa wants to escape from herself and everyone else; she wants to understand her mother’s abandonment, her father’s mistakes, and her inability to break free from the cycle caused by her relationship with his family.
It is from this point that Epa, a Puerto Rican woman, runs towards something she herself doesn’t fully comprehend—she goes to Taiwan in search of her mother—but deep down she recognizes her actions as a search for her own identity. This pursuit is conveyed in the body and gestures of this central character, who admires the world while absorbing it with her eyes. But, if Aris’s performance impresses in the first part of the film, when Epa goes to Taiwan, the quality of her portrayal rises.
Any woman who has traveled alone to foreign places will feel an immediate recognition while watching Foreigner. Mejias offers a subtle yet powerful portrayal of someone observing a new culture. Her breathing and gaze accompany the surprises of the new and different. The audience senses that Epa can always be attacked or welcomed, but it is difficult to know when each will happen. Being immersed and alone in another country is a unique, frightening, powerful, and liberating adventure.
That is portrayed on the screen. Aris reveals Epa’s sensations in minute detail, like an improvisation in a dance or theatre class, where the movements of others are carefully observed in a search for decoding. However, it is precisely in her own codes that the young woman stumbles. The script – also by Malley – along with Tatiana Monge’s editing, reveals what is most coherent about being a foreigner: her own customs blur her vision more than what surrounds her.
That is why the story follows a path in which the familiar (her parents and her culture) is more challenging than the outside, the new, the unknown. To transform these sensations into images, Campos and her team lower the image saturation and create two impressions: the prominence of the protagonist – who is almost always wearing a tone and/or texture of fabric distinct from those around her– and the establishment of an atmosphere that flirts with melancholy.
When Epa is in Taiwan, especially when she meets her mother, the tones are lighter, but bluish shadows permeate the screen and even the characters’ clothing. Melancholy and the fear of abandonment surround Epa, and her actions seem to be conditioned by the dread of being judged and left behind, until the film reaches its turning point. In these cyan tones, mixed with brown and beige, and shaded, the light begins to fall with Epa’s encounter with her mother, Adelaida.
The closer the protagonist gets to this reunion with her mother, the better the production becomes. It is in these scenes that Foreigner becomes radiant, and the dynamic between the two characters deepens the layers of the script. The tension between the two heightens the suspense within the plot, but there is also the interplay between love and resentment. Campos knows how to blend these emotions, and her mise-en-scène transmits this strategy.
Within the logic of scene positioning, the places occupied by the actresses show where the concerns, expectations, and fears lie, and who is in vogue within the representation of these feelings. The greatest example is the moment of confrontation between the two, in which the focus alternates, and the movement of the performers demarcates who is vulnerable and who is more firm at each moment of the discussion.
However, the most impressive thing about the entire film is how the text is more metaphorical and figurative than direct. What is being shown visually conveys more of Epa’s world and perspective than what is being said. The dialogues are almost poetic, but in terms of words they are simple. These elements elevate the complexity of the work, showing how promising Campos is in the art of storytelling.
In this sense, with rich images and dialogues full of multiple meanings, Campos’s vision lacks attention to Epa’s positive encounters. Whether flirting with a Taiwanese man or making friends along her journey, these exchanges seem peripheral. Even though the protagonist doesn’t know exactly what she wants, those around her are also affected by her confusion. To a certain extent, this works, but not completely.
Still, Epa’s actions upon her return to Puerto Rico tie together the overall plot, revealing the completion of a process, a recognition of her desires, and a metamorphosis. By doing that, Campos also manages to close her subtle socio-political discussion about privileges and reflection on moral values (but without being moralistic).
For all these reasons, Foreigner delivers the combination of technical knowledge, artistic sensitivity, and female experience in the most diverse sense. Both Michelle Malley Campos and Aris Mejias encourage the audience to look forward to their next projects. Both artists possess talent that can expand further. For now, this title is already an enjoyable and pleasant viewing experience.
By Enoe Lopes Pontes
Edited by José Teodoro
Copyright FIPRESCI