Venice Review: Strange River Highlights Jaume Claret Muxart as a Significant Talent

      Traveling in an unfamiliar country can be bewildering. Established habits lose their significance. New sights, sounds, and scents can evoke past memories or awaken fresh desires. Making its debut in the Orizzonti sidebar at the 82nd Venice Film Festival, Catalan director Jaume Claret Muxart’s first feature film, Strange River, takes audiences on a journey with a Spanish family through southern Germany. What begins as a light, authentic depiction of life gradually becomes disconnected from reality and drifts into a more dreamlike state. Occasionally reminiscent of Angela Schanelec’s poetic minimalism or Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s queer-tinged surrealism, Muxart’s seemingly straightforward film may require several viewings to unravel the layers beneath its stunning, laid-back exterior.

      The film lacks a substantial plot. We follow 16-year-old Didac (Jan Monter), along with his parents and two younger brothers, as they cycle along the Danube in Germany. They engage in playful bickering, take swims, set up camp, and continue their journey. At night, Didac rehearses lines from a play with his mother, roughhouses with his brothers, or gazes blankly into the distance, lost in his own thoughts. The limited insights we gain about this family come through casual exchanges; for instance, both parents are aware that Didac is gay and has a crush on a village boy who is giving mixed signals. Additionally, Didac's mother reveals that she cycled the same route in her youth, where she encountered her first love. This character development is not explicitly tied to significant plot moments but instead lingers within the sparse narrative as the journey unfolds. A notable event occurs when another teenage boy appears, initially seen swimming next to Didac in the river—ethereal and entirely naked like a merman. This ghostly figure continues to appear wherever Didac goes, igniting a wordless romance that may exist solely in the protagonist’s imagination.

      Viewers looking for complete story arcs and clear resolutions may find Strange River challenging. Muxart intentionally minimizes elements that could add structure and depth to his script; he crafts the film to intentionally resist straightforward coherence. Just as one expects a scene to develop, it abruptly shifts to something entirely different. A day’s journey might be condensed into a one-minute montage nestled between extended close-ups of sun-kissed bodies or longing gazes. The connection between cause and effect is disregarded; soon enough, the audience realizes they are unsure of how long the characters have been traveling or their current location. The intuitive (if not downright enigmatic) editing creates a sense of routine repetition that could frustrate many viewers. Nevertheless, those who yield to the film’s hypnotic rhythm may come to appreciate the exhilaration of abandoning logic and venturing into the unknown.

      The second half of Strange River, in particular, features many wonderfully surreal moments that defy explanation. Didac is seen wandering what seems to be a cruising ground for gay men, where young individuals share charged, meaningful glances. At the end of his stroll, he observes a woman passionately kissing one of these young men, calls out "mother" to the shadowy figure, and then hurriedly departs. It remains unclear how Didac arrived at this location or if the woman is indeed his mother—and if so, whom she is kissing and why. In the following scene, the family has moved on without addressing the incident. Are we to interpret it as merely a dream? Or did this peculiar journey grant a mother of three an opportunity to revisit her past and confront some regrets? As the film progresses, the disparity between what is believable and what occurs grows increasingly pronounced. There are moments when a character finds themselves isolated, and in Didac's case, accompanied by the enigmatic, silent boy. Recognizing that what is witnessed cannot be literally happening allows viewers to indulge in the gentle, boundless in-between, creating a sense that, for a time, everything might turn out fine.

      Strange River is beautifully shot by Pablo Paloma and accompanied by a haunting score from Nika Son, offering a warm, nostalgic quality reminiscent of memories. Its earthy color palette, natural lighting, and strong visual emphasis on the human form give it an ageless quality. Although Muxart may still need to establish his prowess in narrative storytelling, this mysterious, captivating debut undoubtedly introduces us to a filmmaker who comprehends and has the language to articulate the complexities of the human experience.

      Strange River premiered at the 2025 Venice Film Festival.