Alan in Belfast: Hot Milk – great performances in a trauma-infused awakening that isn’t as sweet as its ambition promises (Queen’s Film Theatre until Thursday 10 July)

Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s new film Hot Milk explores inherited trauma and the impact of being surrounded by self-absorbed people.

The daughter of an Irish mum and a long-absent Greek father, Sofia (played with intensity by Emma Mackey) has accompanied her mother Rose (Fiona Shaw) on a trip to Spain. The mother is seeking medical treatment for a chronic condition that has lingered for over two decades. In return for big bucks, Dr Gomez (Vincent Perez) takes a holistic approach to gathering her case history, prying into the possibility of a psychosomatic aggravating factor.

“My daughter is completely unaffected by this” says Rose in a typical moment of denial. When Sofia isn’t acting as her mother’s primary carer and resident slave, she escapes to the beach and forms a friendship with the enigmatic and sultry Ingrid (Vicky Krieps) who rides into view.

For those of us unfamiliar with Deborah Levy’s novel, Hot Milk’s filmic highpoints are earned by the strong characterisation that screenwriter/director Lenkiewicz has brought to the big screen. While Ingrid can sometimes be incredibly verbally direct, she also lapses into total ambiguity and leaves a potentially criminal admission hanging in the air. Krieps is masterfully aloof throughout as Ingrid demonstrates being opaque about her sexual proclivity.

If Ingrid is self-centred, then Rose is totally self-absorbed, almost drowning Sofia with her constant need for attention and inability to take advice she has sought out. Shaw gently ramps up the sinister feeling that the mother is holding something back. Mackey is excellent as her sullen character explores how she is caged in by everyone she holds dear.

Other aspects of Hot Milk are less convincing. Despite being set in Spain – and later Greece (though everything was filmed in Greece!) – everyone speaks English: convenient for the viewer but jarring. The film’s location manager must have had a nightmare, with the story flitting about, introducing new locations that are used for a couple of minutes before being discarded. They’re all gorgeous to look at, but the constant changes do nothing to breed sense of a pressure cooker about to explode. And watch out for a watermelon that seems to go missing mid scene and reappears after a bathroom break.

Hot Milk hints at a summer of sexual awakening for Sofia, but maybe more importantly ends up being about her opening her eyes to how everyone important in her life is taking advantage of her innate kindness. Over the 93 minutes, we wonder if Sofia will ever truly understand herself? Will some trauma surface? Will she be able to set herself free from the heavy symbolism – water offers an inescapable baptism – of Lenkiewicz’s adaptation? (Lenkiewicz was screenwriter for another recent film The Salt Path which had a coastal setting.)

Worth seeing for Mackey, Shaw and Krieps’ performances, Hot Milk feels like a film that isn’t as sweet as its ambition promises. You can catch it at Queen’s Film Theatre until Thursday 10 July.