The Swedish Cousin

When you were a child, did you ever get the feeling that special events in your life were more about pleasing the adults who arranged them than they were about you? Cata is preparing for her Quinceañera. She's been told to wear a dress that's too small for her. It itches and constricts her chest. "It's only for a few hours," she's admonished, as if it's not important that she actually enjoy the event. Used to doing what she's told, she gives way - but the Quinceañera celebrates a coming of age, and that habit of compliance is about to change.

In a film made up of glances, whispers, gently suppressed laughter and secret smiles, the house teems with women and girls. One of them stands out as different from the rest. This is the Swedish cousin whom Cata hasn't met before. She's tall, short-haired and at ease in trousers, something that's almost scandalous in this very traditional feminine world. On the beach, she offers Cata strong liquor. She has an easygoing attitude that sparks something in the Argentinian girl, a sudden realisation that there's no single set way life has to be lived.

There's an obvious attraction between the two girls, but more important is the differentness that attraction represents, freeing Cata up to look at life in a new way. Suddenly the tight dress is only a costume; suddenly those few hours seem much shorter, the celebration not an end in itself but merely a marker of her passage into adult life. Her coming of age may not be what anyone expected.

Inés Barrionuevo and Augustina San Martín direct with a delicate touch, coaxing performances from their young stars that feel natural and fresh. Cata's social world and the tensions between childhood and adulthood are deftly illustrated. Words are never wasted on what can be conveyed with a look.