Spilt ‘Milk’: Artsy-fartsy drama leaves messy puddle
The languid “Hot Milk” is the epitome of the navel-gazing pretentiousness “Seinfeld” so hilariously lampooned with the fictional “Sack Lunch.” It boldly flaunts its cliched trappings, from its exotic locations to its ennui-filled protagonist spending her days aimlessly roaming amid picturesque backdrops in search of both herself and her future.
Natch, this troubled soul leaves the impression she emerged straight off the Milan runway, tall, elegant and perfectly put together, despite her earth-crushing burdens. We should be so unfortunate. Yet, we’re expected to empathize with the mommy issues that have put her life and career on hold. Sorry, not happening. Nor do we give a hoot about our heroine dipping her toe into a same-sex relationship with a worldly woman who’s a borderline nymphomaniac. Is there anyone in the south of Spain she hasn’t slept with?
So goes the allegedly monotonous life of the lovely, naive Sofia, played with utter vapidness by Emma Mackey. No doubt she can fill out an eye-catching, fire-engine-red bikini, but Mackey’s overmatched in summoning a semblance of an inner life for Sofia.
She’s hardly the lone stimulus for a steady succession of yawns. No, that falls upon celebrated screenwriter Rebecca Lenkiewicz (“Ida,” “She Said”), whose adaptation of Deborah Levy’s 2016 novel lacks a pulse, let alone a reason to exist. The only thing more stilted is her prowess as a director, flailing at all attempts to make her rookie effort come to life.
Even an actress as gifted as Fiona Shaw can’t light a fire under it. But it’s not without trying, despite a limited amount of screentime as Sofia’s wheelchair-bound mother, Rose. The role allows Shaw to flaunt her innumerable skills at projecting ruthless passive aggressiveness as a woman who knows no bounds when it comes to casting guilt upon her already deeply depressed daughter.
There’s no apparent cause for Rose’s paralysis, which is why she’s mortgaged her London home to invest in the “magic” healing powers of a Spanish doctor (Vincent Perez) of questionable repute. Sofia reluctantly gets dragged along to Almeria as Rose’s nursemaid, throwing a wrench into her quest to earn an anthropology degree. Sofia’s resentment is palatable. So is her longing once she comes under the spell of Vicky Krieps’ Ingrid, a German tourist with what seems like a lover for every occasion.
Ingrid gives Sofia a reason to live, but she also fills her with stinging pangs of jealousy, as her new obsession overtly flaunts her many dalliances. Where does Sofia fit into this sexual food chain? Ingrid, devoutly coy, isn’t saying, as she leads Sofia on and on. Alas, their affair lacks fire, largely because Krieps and Mackey have little to no chemistry. Lenkiewicz doesn’t help matters, directing their passionless sex scenes as if she’s posing them for a Renaissance painting. These aren’t people. They’re mannequins.
Pictorially, Lenkiewicz delivers the equivalent of an enticing postcard, rich in natural beauty and lush locations. But her ability to flesh out characters we want to know and invest in is virtually nonexistent, rendering this the one “Milk” that doesn’t do the body good.
Movie review
Hot Milk
Rated: R
Cast: Fiona Shaw, Emma Mackey, Vicky Krieps and Vincent Perez
Director: Rebecca Lenkiewicz
Writer: Rebecca Lenkiewicz
Runtime: 92 minutes
Where: In theaters June 27 (limited)
Grade: D
