Family and blood. Permanent ties that bind us together are often strongest when we have little else. Such is the case for Sinaloa (Sophie Reid). Alone after the loss of her mother a few years earlier, she discovers the father that abandoned her at 9 years old has recently died, and that she has a sister she never knew about. With nothing to lose, she leaves the British town of Brighton behind and sets course for Texas.
Arriving in Austin, she introduces herself to her half-sister Merle (Allison Tolman), emerging from the darkness on her porch after she returns home from an evening out with fiancé Raul (Luis Bordonada). Merle is skeptical at first, but ultimately accepts the idea that her father had another family overseas, stemming from his days touring as a musician. Initial wariness of this stranger is washed away as an undeniable bond becomes clear, to both her, and their deceased father. Sinaloa’s wild nature is disruptive enough, but her presence awakens a spirit in Merle that causes further havoc in her personal and professional life. As Merle tries to get her life back on track and distance herself from her newfound sibling, it pushes her half-sister deeper down a dark path she’s been treading her whole life.
Despite a rather evocative opening, La Barracuda takes a little time to settle into a rhythm. It’s a family celebration around a camp fire scene that ignites the film’s themes, characters, and mood. A captivating set by Sinaloa, her singing tinged with a haunting quality, the familiarity to her father’s own inflections when performing, resonates with the family around her. In itself, the scene works as an encapsulation of what La Barracuda is all about: resentment, longing, sadness, and joy peppering the crowd, notably Merle. Sinaloa’s presence instigates a flux in family dynamics, her immersion in her father’s music a resounding echo from the past.
That shared talent and love of music gives her a special bond to their father, while Merle has something more tactile, not just through him providing a greater physical presence in her life, but in the estate left to her after his death. Sinaloa was left with nothing after he abandoned them, just memories and a few scant songs he wrote for her and her mother. This difference in their connections to him lays the seeds of the emotional angst that drives the tale. Thankfully La Barracuda avoids a more derivative path; this isn’t about inheritance and simple resentment, it’s about making a connection and delving into the psychology of these women. It’s a journey of discovery and realization for them both, of bonding and blood, which takes a grim turn towards the end, but is one that is deftly foreshadowed.
Allison Tolman puts in an understated performance, with small inflections that resonate as the film progresses. JoBeth Williams attacks her role as Merle’s mother Patricia with a delightful relish and serves as a spiky foil for Sinaloa, a presence she resents as a reminder of her husband’s indiscretions. Luis Bordonada acquits himself well, but is left to deliver some of the clunkier aspects of the script, including awkward nods to the film’s setting, as well as a unearned 180-shift in his attitude to Sinaloa late in the film.
Then there is Sinaloa herself. There are films where you know you’re witnessing something special, a breakout performance, and this is one of them. Sophie Reid builds a character of brooding intensity and ambiguity. A cold hint of danger wedded to a wry nonchalance. Resentment, rage, and sadness. A mix of these volatile emotions peeps out through unfiltered comments, the flick of a knife, or even ‘marking her territory’ in Patricia’s back yard. This is countered by a fierce loyalty to family, most pertinently her father, her performances of his music offering a peace and at times leaving her rapturous. Reid’s acting and singing talents are a powerful combination and are harnessed to superb effect. Chris Brokaw’s original score weaves together Texas Country and British folk music, reflecting the casting choice as well as the narrative. Music is a prime driving force in the film and ensures the presence of this absent patriarch, as well as his enduring legacy, is strongly felt.
Co-directors Julia Halperin and Jason Cortlund have crafted a film that draws from Austin and the surrounding Hill Country, adding texture to a suspenseful thriller that uses a family dynamic as its base, and shifts into a subdued psychological thriller. It charts the journey of a fascinating character, brought to life by Sophie Reid in a performance that will rank as one of the best of the festival.
