Film explores perils of immigration system
Montreal-shot Lemonade explores perils of immigration system
Timing is everything, and the current focus on immigration around the world, and particularly in North American news and politics, lends added resonance to Ioana Uricaru’s affecting debut feature Lemonade. An immigrant herself, the Romanian-American writer-director brings personal investment to this Montreal-shot Romanian-Canadian- German-Swedish (are you keeping track?) co-production. The clout of Romanian producer Cristian Mungiu (whose 2007 film 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days won the Cannes Palme d’or) has given Lemonade wings. As did its première at the Berlin International Film Festival at the beginning of the year. And rightly so. Uricaru guides this restrained drama with a sure hand, mixing cinematic vision and narrative balance to her tale (co-written with Tatiana Ionascu) of a young mother struggling against the system as she vies for a chance to pursue the American dream. She plunks us in the thick of it. The film opens at a U.S. immigration office, where Mara (Malina Manovici) waits nervously to be interviewed. She had been working as a caretaker, on a temporary visa that is close to expiring. She has a promising lifeline, having just married one of her patients, Daniel (Dylan Scott Smith). Yet while such a scenario might appear to be a done deal, Mara soon finds herself contending with lopsided power dynamics at every turn. The early scene of Mara’s interview outlines the stakes for her, and establishes Uricaru’s impressive knack for building tension. Immigration officer Moji (Steve Bacic) starts off questioning her in a friendly manner about her job and the nature of her relationship with Daniel, then circles back to poke holes in her answers. The camera watches it all from a corner of the room, leaving us to observe as Mara tries to say the right things in response to Moji’s dubiously motivated game of cat and mouse. And yet his questions elicit questions for the viewer: How long has she really known Daniel? How much does she know about him? And how much can she — and we — trust her profession of love when so much rests on it? The pressure rises with the arrival of Mara’s eight-year-old son Dragos (Milan Hurduc) from Romania. We sense her utter devotion to him, and how that affects every decision she is forced to make going forward. Mara has not seen the last of Moji, and things get complicated with her husband, revealing the multi-pronged vulnerability of women in her position. The acting is solid all around, with Manovici offering a dazzlingly nuanced performance mingling innocence, charisma and deer-inthe-headlights desperation. Uricaru deserves kudos for delving into such button-pushing and heartstring-tugging territory without allowing the melodrama to get the upper hand, even ending on a somewhat hopeful note.