Opening with a ‘based on true events’ card, Most Beautiful Island then proceeds to weave through the hustling streets of New York, the camera seemingly tempted to follow one of the women it comes across before finally settling on Luciana (Ana Asenio).
As she goes about her life, we become aware that she is an undocumented Spanish immigrant, struggling to make ends meet by working multiple jobs. Over a coffee with Russian immigrant Olga (Natasha Romanova), she learns of a gig that might solve her problems, at least in the short term. All she needs to do is attend a private party and look pretty, and she’ll get $2000 for the trouble. She’s directed to a Chinese restaurant, where she is handed a padlocked purse and sent on to a second location with the unnerving instructions, “no bag, no cellphone.” Upon arrival, finds she’s not the only girl attending the ‘party’ and that while the rewards are genuine, the risks are greater than expected.
There are two types of shock in cinema. The sudden smack of something, the jump scare, and the more subtle, the narrative drawing you in, slowly engulfing you with tension and fear. The latter is more difficult, but for first time filmmaker Ana Asenio, she makes it look easy. With Most Beautiful Island Asenio delivers an assured directorial debut that is vividly personal. Shot on Super 16 to great effect, immersing you in the hustle and bustle of New York, the direction imparts a voyeuristic look into the life of this woman and the city. Also, playing the lead she is on camera for pretty much the entirety of the film’s runtime, and it’s a transfixing performance.
Chronicling a single day in Luciana’s life, the film deftly weaves in snippets of her predicament and her past. Cash in hand jobs, thankless tasks including promotional work, or childminding, she juggles a multitude of tasks and still seems to be barely getting by. We see a lingering look at an advert for a job that requires a social security number, and overhear the name Sofia, spoken during a phone call, a hint of her past that seems to resonate profoundly. Financially she’s in dire straights; the rent is due and she’s not even able to pay for an ice cream or taxi fare, yet each is offered to be compensated at a later date. It’s not a platitude, but a genuine offer. It’s a nurturing aspect of her character that resurfaces towards the end of the film in one of its more stunning moments. She’s also a resilient, hardened woman. A sequence where she retreats to the bathtub to wash away the day’s grime and finds a cockroach infestation leaves her unperturbed; it’s not just a nightmarish sequence hinting at her mental state, but again a foreshadowing much of what’s to come.
This first half of the film immerses you in Luciana’s life before effortlessly slipping her into New York’s twisted underbelly. Arriving at the party, Luciana joins the other girls ‘hired’ to attend. Each is reduced to a rich person’s plaything, each subtly portrayed as having different motives for being there. Some are there for the first time; some have been before. The party guests too, through subtle hints and differences in their mannerisms, have their own inferred backstories. What unfolds isn’t as far fetched as you may think. After all, this is a civilization that gave rise to Bumfights, so there’s surely more unpalatable and dangerous fare that quietly exists in our world that exploits the vulnerable elements of our society. In a less deft hand this final act could have taken a wilder and more ungainly turn into Eli Roth territory. But Asensio keeps her focus on the characters and their plight as well as the social commentary that drives her film. These aspects are deftly layered and further built upon even as it veers into genre fare. It’s a psychological thriller, but smartly done, building up tension throughout the film then deftly drawing out the final act, keeping much of what awaits Luciana behind closed doors, a chilling silence occasionally broken by the sound of applause, or screams. It’s evocative fare but never sensationalizes the characters, plot, or themes it tackles, ending with a final shot that serves as an affirmation of Luciana’s struggles and hope.
From both in front of as well as behind the camera, Ana Asensio has crafted a truly impressive debut feature, one that sucks you in and ultimately leaves you breathless. Most Beautiful Island is an enthralling character study, a tale of survival, and a determination to go beyond that, to live.
