Headstrong teenager Julija lives on an island off the Croatian coast with her father, Ante, and dutiful mother. However, she sees the arrival of Javier, a millionaire friend of her parents, as an opportunity to make a bet for freedom.
Coming-of-age movies set in an idyllic location during a vacation almost always have a doom feel. Even a comedy can be portrayed with a touch of sadness, and things may not always work out in the end. Murina doesn't play much with that formula, but it has enough to work as an effective drama.
At least in its opening parts, the film feels formulaic due to lead Julija's performance. She is a precarious teenager, who is shaken by the arrival of Javier, an authoritarian and stubborn friend of her father. She often fantasizes about replacing her father with this man, even trying to set him up with her long-suffering mother, thinking it's the right thing to do with disastrous results.
In her mind, Javier is everything that her father is not. Sensitive, smooth, with a hint of adventure and in complete control of himself. In Julija's mind, Javier is the perfect complement to her family when you take out her father. An in-form Cliff Curtis plays Javier, who sympathizes with Julija and her mother and often even ambiguously fosters her fantasies. He is the complete opposite of the character that put him on the cinematic map. When he played Uncle Bully in Once Were Warriors, being put in a similar position by the patriarch's hospitality, he ended up viciously raping her daughter and triggered the violent climax of that movie. Here, he goes the other way, playing the sympathetic friend who, despite experiencing the cruel nature of his friend, is more or less a silent bystander because it is not his family he is meant to protect.
Cruelty and abuse of power are the main themes of the film. Leon Lucev is terrifying as the family patriarch who holds his family down with his brutal willpower. He manifests himself in different ways, from the obvious treatment he gives his family to the more subtle ones. In a scene where Javier proudly proclaims that he forgives León for a past digression, the subtle way in which he takes out his anger on his daughter for his friend's generosity of heart is much more shocking than showing his anger with his family.
Your heart also goes out to Danica Curcic as Nela, her long-suffering wife who has given up on her destiny but still stands up for her while she does. A fact that Julija blames him for being more cowardly than talking about charge. Despite never leaving the island like she hardly ever did, she had to grow up pretty fast. Although she barely speaks, she has been through a lot. She also reminded me of Cecile from Bonjour Tristesse in her childishness. Sometimes, even though a person may seem wiser for her age, you assume that she is still a child who is forced to make childish decisions. That is sometimes what Gracija Filipović brilliantly highlights in Murina.
The presence of Martin Scorsese as executive producer and the Caméra d'Or for best first film at Cannes add to the praise. As is the intensity of Filipovic's attentive performance, which reinforces the idea that Julija is trapped in a fairy tale of the last days. For all its visual prowess and atmospheric intrigue, however, this sharp critique of crass patriarchy suffers from simplistic characterization and drawn-out, muddled action in the final reel. The flaws lie more with the script, co-written by Frank Graziano, than with Kusijanovic's direction, which is confident enough to suggest big things could be in store.