Drowning Dry director Laurynas Bareiša discusses uncovering humor within tragedy, his admiration for Nicolas Roeg, and the aspects of life that remain unprocessed.

      Conan O’Brien can be excused for joking “Over to you, Estonia” after Flow secured Latvia its first Oscar last month. The idea of a collaborative Baltic Cinema remains a fairly unfamiliar concept: “We have this complex identity, culturally,” Laurynas Bareiša shared with me recently at the Riga International Film Festival in a quaint nook of one of the city's oldest cafés. He noted, “Because we’re neither part of the Slavic world nor geographically Scandinavian, there’s an emerging sentiment regarding this Baltic region.” If a shift is occurring in that area, Lithuanian filmmakers have been leading the charge—especially since Bareiša’s debut, Pilgrims, triumphed in Venice’s Orizzonti section in 2021.

      This success has been reinforced by other films such as Marija Kavtaradzė’s Slow (which won at Sundance in 2023) and an impressive collection of awards at Locarno last year, where Best Film was awarded to Saule Bliuvaite’s Toxic and directing and performance accolades went to Bareiša’s latest, Drowning Dry. “When I won in Venice, the filmmaking community was somewhat shell-shocked. Now, with Maria and Saule, there’s a growing sense among people that they too can gain visibility.”

      Drowning Dry unfolds on a timeline that shifts like a hazy memory, centering on two sisters and their families during a pivotal retreat to a lakeside summerhouse. Through the bravado of the husbands, including an MMA fighter, Bareiša establishes a pervasive feeling of unease that culminates in a tragic incident. Although it addresses trauma, the director balances the somber tones with hints of humor, an intriguing air of mystery, and a compact, engaging narrative that leaves viewers desiring more than its 88 minutes provide.

      Over a similarly brief half-hour (summarized and edited for clarity), Bareiša discussed fragile masculinity, influences on his filmmaking, and how close he came to incorporating two songs by Atomic Kitten.

      The Film Stage: The title alludes to a condition in which someone seems to survive drowning, only to suffocate later on land. At Locarno, you mentioned that this condition influenced the film's structure. Could you elaborate on that?

      Laurynas Bareiša: This condition, known as dry drowning or secondary drowning, struck me as a metaphor for the social interactions among the characters. They share connections, yet they’re choking. Both couples are merely going through the motions, their relationships crumbling. It seemed similar to this notion—there’s no water, but they still choke nonetheless.

      The timeline shifts frequently. What was the first scene you wrote?

      The initial scene was the drowning incident, where a father rescues his daughter but fails to perform CPR. Instead, he gets pushed aside while another person saves his child. I was intrigued by the idea, “What if you don’t express gratitude?” It raised a theme of inability to do so, particularly among men. These societal issues are often dismissed as trivial but run deep within our psyche. That inspired the structure I began crafting.

      So it essentially builds from the center out?

      Yes, because that’s the point where time fractures. It's a traumatic moment. Each of the four characters represents different ways to cope with this singular event. For instance, one character is overtly physical and reactive, yet also emotionally closed off and oblivious to how his actions affect those around him. This character, Lucas, a fighter, fails to recognize that his behavior alienates his wife and others. Meanwhile, the other husband is acutely aware of perceptions, but feels paralyzed by them. As for the sisters, one appears withdrawn and psychologically defeated, while the other, who may seem most burdened, exhibits remarkable mental strength and resilience. I wanted to create this dynamic.

      I aimed to explore the relationship to this tragic event, how it evokes recurring reflections and varying experiences. There are numerous similar or even identical scenes.

      You depict the sisters dancing twice, each time to a different song. How did you select those songs?

      I had two songs stuck in my mind from the 2000s, during the MTV era. The sisters are of a similar age, having grown up watching the same channel. Initially, I chose two Atomic Kitten songs, “Eternal Flame” and “Whole Again,” but the issue was that audiences wouldn’t perceive them as distinct tracks. They’re from the same album, and when played, you wouldn’t necessarily notice when one ends and the other begins.

      The dance sequences are identical. Did you shoot the dance twice?

      The fighting shot is the same, but the dance sequence differs. You can observe them miming the song, adding a layer of complexity. Interestingly, we secured the rights the day after the shoot, so we actually filmed with eight different songs. Though we got the ones we initially wanted, we have footage with eight different ’90