Olivia Review: A Slow, Painterly Fable on Loss That Struggles to Illuminate Grief
Olivia Review: Slow Cinema Fable on Loss and Grief

Argentinian director Sofía Petersen's film Olivia presents a mysterious and painterly fable centred on loss and loneliness, unfolding against the stark, windswept landscapes of Tierra del Fuego. The film adopts an extended, unhurried pace, often accompanied only by the thin, desolate sound of the wind, aiming to delve into the profound meaning of grief. Despite receiving acclaim at last year's Locarno film festival and embracing the principles of slow cinema, this cinematic endeavour ultimately feels formless and inert, hibernating within its own heavy, unlit gloom.

A Self-Conscious Approach to Slow Cinema

The movie employs self-conscious techniques, including still life compositions shot on 16mm film, with lingering closeups on objects like old spoons and watch-faces. While these elements strive for artistic weight, they often come across as redundant and overly deliberate, detracting from the narrative's emotional core. The central theme of grief remains inadequately exposed, leaving viewers with a sense of bafflement rather than enlightenment.

Characters and Setting in a Dreamlike World

Tina Sconochini portrays Olivia, a young woman living with her aged widower father, played by nonprofessional actor Dario del Carmen Haro Santana, in a small, pyramidal hut nestled in the rugged foothills. Olivia exhibits traits that suggest narcolepsy or a learning disability, though her childlike, unworldly mannerisms might simply reflect the film's overall aura of unreality. Her father works daily at a local abattoir, while Olivia occupies herself by collecting bugs and insects, which they pin to various cards as a shared hobby.

Wide Pickt banner — collaborative shopping lists app for Telegram, phone mockup with grocery list

When her father goes missing, Olivia embarks on a search that leads her to the abattoir. Instead of directly asking employees for help, she roams the stark building like a ghost, adding to the film's dreamlike quality. The employees, portrayed by real abattoir workers, assemble in a placid, choral manner to urge Olivia to accept that the "past is the past"—a gesture that feels faintly exasperating yet reinforces the surreal atmosphere.

Moments of Intimacy Amidst Gloom

It is within the abattoir that Olivia encounters Mari, played by Carolina Tejeda, who becomes a friend, lover, or quasi-mother figure. Their moment of intimate tenderness offers a brief respite from the prevailing gloom, hinting at connections that transcend loss. In many ways, Olivia itself resembles a funeral ceremony: seriously intended and sombre, yet often baffling and dispiriting in its execution.

Critical Reception and Release Details

While the film has been praised for its ambitious attempt to capture the essence of slow cinema, it struggles to maintain coherence and emotional impact. Olivia is set to be released in UK cinemas from 24 April, inviting audiences to experience its unique, if flawed, exploration of grief and isolation. Overall, Petersen's work remains a contemplative piece that, despite its artistic aspirations, falls short of fully illuminating the complexities of loss it seeks to portray.

Pickt after-article banner — collaborative shopping lists app with family illustration