I think I had a vision of what I thought Salt Water was going to be like as a film. The synopsis stated that an abuse survivor was confronting the priest who molested him after years had gone by, and I had thought I knew that was going to be handled. I was wrong, which was a good thing because it made the movie a far more engaging, thoughtful, and intimate portrayal of the myriad ways that abuse can affect a person.
We meet the abuse survivor Jacobo (played by Luis Mario Jiménez) in the opening scenes of the movie, living in a house owned by his mother. He has recently given up his career as a nurse due to trials of the covid epidemic and is barely making a living as a yoga instructor. He has a roommate and partner whom he is trying to maintain a relationship with. Still, he is constantly replaying a video of a TV interview with the priest, letting us know he has not gotten over the trauma. The movie spends a lot of time in small moments with Jacobo, letting us feel how much he has never moved on. The priest José Luis (played by Oscar Salazar ) comes back to town as he is getting ready to retire, and Jacobo reaches out to him. His intent is not to angrily confront the clergyman but to reunite with him. The viewer comes to the slow realization that Jacobo still has deep feelings for José, and the film takes an anxious turn as we watch, dreading what will come next.
The film is the epitome of the slow burn, but that allows us to sit with Jacobo and have a deep caring for what will become of him in the end, even as we see him make choices that will lead him to more heartache. The film does not sugarcoat the reality of abuse but does showcase that the damage it does to everyone is not the same. If you appreciate a thought-meditative approach to filmmaking, I suggest you check this one out.
Salt Water, the new LGBTQ drama from Colombian filmmaker Steven Morales Pineda, will be available to rent or own on Amazon Prime and all major digital platforms beginning June 24.
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