“Let me tell my own lies,” Laura (Amy Adams) whispers to her husband Martin (Murray Bartlett) in “At the Sea,” having recently returned from a six-month sabbatical that he’s been telling friends was a much-needed period of rest and relaxation in Bali. In reality, it was a stint at the Pritchard Recovery Center, doing the difficult work of battling alcohol dependency, and as her cab left the rehab clinic, she could reasonably think the worst was in the rearview, but as she’s peppered with questions about where she’s been, the smokescreen her husband has put up only seems to ensnare her further, prepared to be served up for a death by a thousand cuts and she desperately wants ownership over anything.
It would seem as if writer Kata Weber and director Kornel Mundruczó are setting up a battle for Laura with her sobriety in the same harrowing vein as their 2023 drama “Pieces of a Woman,” but as much as their latest collaboration offers a similarly strong dramatic showcase for its lead actress, “At the Sea” is a more unusual prospect that pulls from the director’s longheld interest in tackling earthly issues with metaphysical flourishes such as his 2014 international breakthrough “White God,” tracking a pack of revenge-seeking dogs through the streets of his native Hungary, to the 2021 drama “Evolution,” where the legacy of the Holocaust felt tactile as residual trauma made its way through a family over nearly a century. It would be too easy for Mundruczó and Weber to make alcoholism isn’t the main issue in their latest collaboration, though Laura does have a problem that makes falling off the wagon a constant source of tension. However, the fact that she’s tempted to drink at all in a seemingly carefree corner of Cape Cod where she and Martin have led an idyllic life as artists – he’s a painter and she’s the managing director of a dance company bestowed to her by her father – speaks to a larger problem when Laura isn’t unwelcome back at their sprawling country home, but she also certainly isn’t made to feel like a necessary part of it either upon her arrival.
Mundruczó who can dazzle with long, fluid takes that convey a world that doesn’t stop for his characters is only selectively deployed here when Laura is a walking disruption, with her young son Felix (Redding Munsell) frightened to see her reappear when he likely can’t remember a time she was sober and his teenage sister Josie (Chloe East) frozen in the position of wondering whether she is a daughter or a mother when she’s so clearly fragile. The discomfort she feels trying to get back into the swing of things makes the filmmaker’s own efforts to push himself and audiences out of their comfort zone are weirdly befitting — much of the cast around Adams is primarily associated with comedy (Jenny Slate, Dan Levy and Rainn Wilson), giving off a vaguely unsettling vibe when mostly playing it straight here, and the director incorporates dance intro the proceedings via Laura’s dreams of her younger self, wandering around a nondescript street that may have English-language signs but seems like something the director shot separately closer to home in Europe. The fit can be occasionally awkward, but so too is Laura in this world that has clearly moved on without her.
It’s up for debate whether Laura’s issues are actually ones the film formally has as well when it takes time for both to work out a natural rhythm, but those pursuits are intertwined from the start by the introduction of Laura’s father, a clumsy bit of exposition where she shoves a tape into a VCR to be reminded both of his gusto to go for it as a choreographer provocateur and his less admirable predilection to push things too far — a legacy that has extended itself into her own attitudes and helped build up a fortune that now feels like a gilded cage. As it turns out, Laura is still holding onto something of importance with her stake in her late father’s dance company that she’s inclined to give up, though all those around her remain invested in preserving the life they currently have that she feels encumbered by.
Mundruczó and Weber don’t mind a messy set-up as a means to an end, admirably chasing something more transcendent than others would even try to attempt in the first place as Laura begins to get comfortable with thoughts of a completely different life for herself. Scenes really soar where Laura is pulled out of the constant churning of her own head, either by happy accident when a fisherman (Brett Goldstein) comes to her aid – at first to rescue her son from a jellyfish sting and then to calm her nerves with stories of his own sobriety — or submitting to a confrontation that can’t be put off any longer, when for instanct, Josie tells her about the sacrifices she’s had to make in order to facilitate her mother’s recovery. Adams’ complete transparency when it comes to absorbing what others share with her cuts especially deep, and the film becomes moving in all kinds of ways as it hones in on Laura’s fears shifting away from herself to the idea that she’s consigned Josie to the same cycle of torment that she experienced when it felt like there was no other choice but to uphold the family business.
There’s a literal dimension to the film’s graceful strides towards a climax when both Laura and Josie have ballet in their background, yet somehow it doesn’t feel overwrought when in fact it seems like they’ve been dancing around one another the whole time. Not only does it come across as a breakthrough when they’re on equal footing, but beyond tying generations together within the story, the film has the same sense of innovation in fusing together a classic Chekhovian drama with contemporary choreography, ultimately delivering deft results. Bringing the truth out isn’t always elegant in “At the Sea,” but when presented with this much bravery and personality, it becomes undeniable.
“At the Sea” will screen again at Berlinale on February 17th at 10 am at Urania, February 18th at 7 pm at Uber Eats Music Hall, February 20th at 4 pm at Uber Eats Music Hall and February 22nd at 9:45 pm at the Berlinale Palast.