The film Moisture opens with an extreme close-up of a rat moving among moss-covered rocks, soon joined by another rat, and then suddenly by several more. The impact of these unconventional frames is amplified by the heavy sounds accompanying them. This brief yet detailed introduction effectively sets the tone for the subsequent scenes, defining the language of the film. From this opening scene, it becomes clear that the viewer is encountering a somewhat surreal film. If a filmmaker can achieve such a result with just a few seconds of introduction, it’s evident that the film is well-thought-out, with great attention to every aspect of its content and form.
This introduction transforms the subsequent scene: an otherwise ordinary exchange between Dr. Anne and her assistant is turned into something far more layered and evocative. It prompts the audience to pay more attention to the characters' behaviors and interactions. For example, Dr. Anne’s pauses before responding to her secretary, coupled with her penetrating gaze and large, expressive eyes, take on a different meaning. What the filmmaker has accomplished here, and continues to do throughout the film, is masterfully building atmosphere—creating a mood that can’t be seen but it profoundly affects the viewer’s emotional response.
When Dr. Anne is left alone in her office after her secretary leaves, the film's atmosphere shifts from the surrealism established earlier to a trace of horror. The ease with which the filmmaker shifts between these contrasting moods shows a great understanding of the cinematic medium. This is particularly evident in the film’s meticulously engineered soundscape. In the quiet early scenes where Dr. Anne is alone in her clinic, elements like the dripping of a faucet or the distant ringing of a bell are carefully placed to construct the director’s desired ambiance. Much of the film’s eerie tone arises from this intentional sound design.
The film does not confine itself entirely to any of tones or atmospheres. The filmmaker skillfully transitions between these spaces, creating a narrative that feels introspective, even imagined narratives. Through these shifts, the audience gradually realizes that some scenes might exist solely in the minds of the characters. Not everything seen on screen is necessarily rooted in reality. As an example, after a scene in which Dr. Anne eats cake and drinks tea in her kitchen, we see a fleeting image of a woman swimming which could be her fantasies or desires—an escape to a place she yearns to be.
While the film evokes memories of certain surrealist works, it also ventures into experimental territory. Cutting from a deeply subjective, imagined scene—possibly reflecting a character’s inner thoughts or feelings—to a public, external moment, such as two men standing opposite each other in the rain, heightens the fragmentary, experimental quality of the film. However, because the filmmaker knows how to seamlessly bridge these transitions, the audience is subtly guided through these shifts as the film expands its narrative. The filmmaker seems to have achieved a superb unity between these seemingly unrelated moments.
By the time we reach the midpoint of the film, we have a clearer sense of what kind of film we’re dealing with. Up until now, the film has kept much of its intent shrouded, but it gradually reveals itself as a deeply introspective and subjective work, one that navigates the psychological aspects of its protagonist in an experimental way. It showcases a spectrum of emotions—from love and desire to exhaustion and frustration, to fear and anxiety—expressed through a language crafted uniquely for the film, beginning with its very opening scene. However, this expression is far from direct, and that indirectness is one of its greatest strengths. The filmmaker knows how to convey timeless human experiences—fear, love, hate, worry, and longing—through a complex yet understandable cinematic language, combining these emotions together into a cohesive whole.
Dr. Anne, the film’s protagonist, is a deeply complex character. One cannot read her by looking at her face or her expressions. The filmmaker uses temporal shifts—moving between past and present—to show Anne’s mental state. Through these transitions, we understand that Anne seems trapped in a repetitive lifestyle, living not through successive days but rather reliving the same long, endless day. The film’s tone, coupled with its visual and auditory techniques, directs our focus away from external realities and immerses us in the inner system of Anne’s psyche.
All acting in Moisture serves to reinforce Anne’s inner world. From her secretary to the patients and others in her life, each character contributes to constructing the stressful and high-pressure world she inhabits. The filmmaker brilliantly uses the performances of secondary characters to reflect Anne’s pain, loneliness, and struggles, without having her express them herself. The film’s conclusion, marked by Anne’s scream as she swims, feels like a release—a reaction to the overwhelming pressure of others’ presence in her life. This moment also casts the film’s opening sequence, with the rats, in a more metaphorical light, as a reflection of Anne’s inner turmoil.
The lead actress is so naturally integrated into the role that we often forget we’re watching a performance. The absence of exaggerated expressions allows Anne to serve as an anchor amidst the overwhelming presence of the other characters, offering the audience a figure of quiet resilience to rely on, Dr. Ann herself.
Moisture is a film crafted with precision—delicately shot, brilliantly edited, and as concise as possible. The filmmaker strives to articulate the vision entirely through imagery, creating scenes that stay with the audience long after the credits roll. Standout moments, such as Anne swimming or the two women eating chocolate in the waiting room, will stay with the viewers. Moisture is one of those rare films that reveal more the second and third times you watch it, revealing new layers of meaning and enriching the viewer’s understanding with each revisit.
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