Amy Adams stars as Laura Baum, a woman trying to rebuild her life after a lengthy stay in rehab, in the film At the Sea, which premiered at the Berlin Film Festival. The movie, directed by Kornél Mundruczó, known for White God and Pieces of a Woman, is a curious work marked by fleeting dance sequences and brief flashbacks, though it ultimately feels restrained and less daring than it could have been. The story is set around Laura’s return to her family and the dance company she leads following her recovery.
The Setting and Family Struggles
Laura, a former ballerina and head of a dance company founded by her late father, hides her rehab stint from her colleagues under the false pretense of a Bali expedition. Upon returning home to a beachside house, she faces tension within her family and professional life. Her husband, Martin, played by Murray Bartlett, is keen on selling their home, while George, her partner in the company portrayed by Rainn Wilson, contemplates pulling financial support. Meanwhile, Laura’s children, Josie (Chloe East) and Felix (Redding L. Munsell), are uncertain how to react to her presence after months away.
Lack of Depth in Exploring Family and Artistic Themes
The film repeatedly references conflicts within Laura’s family and dance company but fails to explore these relationships with any meaningful depth. Conflict scenes are undercut by awkward dialogue and expository arguments rather than fully realized emotional exchanges. Laura’s passionate attachment to both her family home and the dance company, her father’s legacy, is stated but never fully conveyed through action or nuance. Flashbacks to her childhood are brief and abstract, offering little insight beyond fragmented glimpses.
“I’ve always put this company first! It’s all about the dance!”
— character in At the Sea
“You didn’t know shit about dance when I first hired you as my assistant!”
— character in At the Sea
Inconsistent Drama and Underdeveloped Characters
The script, written by Kata Wéber, struggles with dramatic pacing, particularly in portraying Laura’s strained marriage. The exchanges between Laura and Martin lack emotional weight, with their arguments often feeling amateurish and failing to build any real tension. A moment of laughter mid-argument comes across less as genuine humor and more like an unintentional break in character, highlighting the film’s uncertain tone. Supporting roles add sporadic drama, such as Jenny Slate as George’s ex-wife delivering a drunken monologue, or Brett Goldstein’s enigmatic recovering addict who shares a metaphor about kites, only to vanish without resolution.
Moments of Potential Sparked by Dance
Throughout At the Sea, rare scenes of dance offer the strongest emotional moments. Josie’s retreat to the dance studio and her physical abandon signal a glimpse of vitality breaking through the narrative’s fragmentation. Similarly, brief flashbacks morphing into dance sequences hint at the story’s potential to be told more vividly through movement. However, these moments are too fleeting, leaving the viewer longing for a more sustained and immersive exploration of dance as a language of expression.
Mundruczó’s Direction Hints at a Lost Vision
Kornél Mundruczó, noted for his bold, symbolic filmmaking and acclaimed theatrical productions, brings intermittent flashes of his characteristic artistry to At the Sea. Yet the film’s reliance on conventional narrative and clunky dialogue seems to dilute the director’s usual daring approach. Observing the film’s occasional shifts toward abstraction, it is clear there was an ambition for a stranger, wilder work driven by movement and metaphoric energy. The film’s current form suggests a missed opportunity to embrace that vision, leaving the audience craving a more experimental dance-driven story.
The Film’s Legacy and What Might Have Been
At the Sea stands as a perplexing film caught between conventional storytelling and an ambition for something more avant-garde. Amy Adams, whose early training as a ballerina uniquely suited her for this role, appears adrift in a story that refuses to fully unfold or embrace its unusual impulses. While the fragments of dance and symbolism show promise, the lack of coherence and emotional depth limit its impact. The film’s restrained execution contrasts sharply with the powerful dance imagery it only occasionally taps into, leaving viewers to imagine a far stranger, more vibrant version of the story that might one day emerge.
