Eleven years after his stylish crime drama 'Wednesday 04:45,' Greek writer-director Alexis Alexiou returns with another intriguing blend of neo-noir tropes and anguished character study. There are Greek waves aplenty lapping at the forlorn beachside setting of “Sea of Glass,” though they’re not especially weird ones. Amid a national cinema that has become internationally recognized for perverse plotting and deadpan absurdism, writer-director Alexis Alexiou‘s third feature stands out for its stark storytelling and earnest emotional intensity.
There is more than a nod to classical Greek tragedy here, and the film — a contemporary tale of dysfunctional parent-child relationships with escalatingly brutal consequences — doesn’t wear it lightly. But a spirit of feminist independence also infiltrates these dark proceedings: Alexiou namechecks “Thelma and Louise” among his inspirations, and though “Sea of Glass” is never quite so rousing or rowdy, it’s finally a moving study of female allyship across generations. It’s been 11 years since Alexiou’s last feature “Wednesday 04:45,” a sleek, Michael Mann-indebted thriller that, despite its ticking-clock narrative setup, really led with heavy neon-nights ambience — and toured the festival circuit extensively following its Tribeca premiere.
The results are absorbing, but at 130 minutes, could stand some tightening: A slow-burning setup takes rather too long to segue into the stirring, high-stakes female friendship portrait at the film’s heart. Though the louring atmospherics here are a leading attraction, “Sea of Glass” also serves as a strong showcase for veteran actress Evangelia Andreadaki (recently seen in last year’s Greek Oscar submission “Arcadia”), who’s charged with telling much of her character’s backstory in weary silence. In her mid-sixties, Vangelio’s days are spent caring for her older, bedridden husband, with little time or thought for herself, beyond perusing old tourist guidebooks with idle yearning; one introductory scene limns a life of under-appreciated, routine-bound service.
When the old man dies, her numb reaction appears caught between grief and relief, though her two adult sons show little understanding of her emotional state. Impulsively, Vangelio decides on some alone time, on her own terms — booking an off-season vacation at a coastal resort on the Greek island of Evia. Presumably overrun with holidaymakers in the summer, it’s chilly and dolefully quiet when she arrives, as is the shabby hotel she checks into: Excellent sound design, in particular, captures the lonesome reverberations of weather and water in this wintry limbo.
Still, the rundown mood of the place suits Vangelio’s own. Here, at last, is somewhere she can productively do nothing. Or it would be, if the hotel didn’t have its own drama of oppression and liberation brewing downstairs. 23-year-old Vicky (Christiana Matelska Toka) runs the establishment thanklessly and almost single-handedly, with little help from its owner, her boorish father (Michalis Iatropoulos).
Dad is an abusive alcoholic, prone to berating and even assaulting his daughter in front of guests, of which Vangelio is currently the only one. That draws her into this domestic crisis whether she likes it or not; she soon forms a tacit bond with the desperately withdrawn Vicky, who’s visibly grateful for a maternal figure to confide in. Women have little voice in this community of stale, disappointed men, including the local cops who are her father’s best friends.
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