“Hauntingly beautiful psychological drama.”

Memory is a subject that is quite difficult to accurately depict in art, despite its universality. The act of revisiting the past, whether physically or metaphorically, can be quite an ordeal, especially when it is steeped in uncomfortable recollections that many would prefer to remain dormant. This is the concept that lingers beneath the surface of A Whole Person Almost, the directorial debut of Efthimis Kosemund-Sanidis, who explores the difficulties that come with looking backwards and transforms it into this hauntingly beautiful psychological drama. The premise is simple – a young man named Ilias arrives on the remote island where his family has lived for generations. He is there to claim the inheritance left by his recently deceased father, in what he imagined would be a relatively straightforward administrative journey. However, this is immediately complicated by his interactions with several locals, all of whom represent something different in the protagonist’s past, awakening some uncomfortable memories in the young man. A film in which the smallest details have astonishing consequences, A Whole Person Almost is a challenging work about a character indifferent to the world that surrounds him undergoing an existential journey into his personal past and his familial history, both of which he has chosen to distance himself from, but now is forced to revisit. A fascinating, introspective psychological drama presented as a complex character study in which the director meditates on cultural memory, inheritance (both tangible and metaphorical) and existential dislocation, evolving into an intimate but grounded metaphysical drama that is as ambiguous as it is engaging.

A Whole Person Almost is built around one underlying philosophical question: how much of our ancestral lands contain traces of those who came before? The premise of a young man returning to the place where he came from, activating inactive aspects of his identity, is a fascinating one, and is carefully examined throughout this film. What was supposed to be a relatively simple detour from his ordinary life turns into a much more intimidating exploration of self, with Ilias’ time on the island gradually increasing, only further emphasising his detachment from both reality and his own personal past. The director explores this disconnect in juxtaposition with the protagonist’s interactions with the locals, some of whom are more eccentric than others, and while it doesn’t rely too heavily on the premise of an urbane young man finding himself surrounded by local colour (which has been the foundation of many films), it is the basis for some fascinating observations. Through these people, the main character learns about his family, and by extension himself, leading him to quietly transform into a much more complex character as he becomes more keenly aware of the history of this island and his place within the culture, even if he doesn’t always understand it. This interacts exceptionally well with the theme of grief, since despite seemingly being estranged from his father, Ilias is in a state of mourning, which becomes more evident the further we see the protagonist trying to unravel the complex truths about his family, albeit from a distance. A Whole Person Almost is a film about homecoming in many ways, following someone who is seeking closure and a sense of belonging, even if the process can be excruciatingly disorienting at times.

There is a strong thematic foundation around which A Whole Person Almost is constructed, but it is also in the execution of these ideas that we find the film becoming quite intriguing. Kosemund-Sanidis employs a stream-of-consciousness approach, providing brief vignettes of Ilias’ physical and psychological odyssey. It allows the interactions between characters or moments in which the protagonist sits in contemplative isolation to unfold naturally and with the kind of fluidity that is often found to be associated with the act of revisiting difficult memories. This is not always an easy film, since it is clear that the director is not focused on telling a story so much as he is plumbing the emotional depths of the human condition, focusing on a character who drifts through life, observing while trying to leave as little impression on his surroundings as possible. We’re never given the guidance needed to interpret the complexities of the story, and any hope of a clear emotional resolution is immediately dismissed when we see the approach that the director is taking in crafting this film. The viewer is invited to sit in the discomfort felt by Ilias, peering at the world through his eyes as he negotiates his identity and his place within a community that he never intended to be a part of until this visit. This film does not make the process particularly easy, but the emotional tension reveals deeper truths that are at the very least insightful and often profoundly moving if we can look past the intentional awkwardness that lingers heavily throughout the film.

At its core, A Whole Person Almost is essentially a carefully constructed meditation on inherited trauma and the often unwieldy despair that comes with exploring the memories associated with a difficult past. The film interweaves emotional complexity with psychological observations in an effort to communicate some deeper themes that help the viewer understand the metaphysical journey of its protagonist as he faces an uncertain world. What starts as a simple examination of a young man undertaking a seemingly routine administrative task eventually spirals into something deeper and more profound, a portrait of a man excavating the past and trying to find meaning where it seems to be missing. Built around the usual tug-of-war between the past and present, in this case represented by cultural traditions and contemporary identity respectively, A Whole Person Almost tries to determine whether the self can be considered autonomous or if it is guided by some predestined fate.  It never offers any closure, and it is constantly demonstrating an unconventional approach to the narrative process, but it still proves to be a rich and engaging work. The film is a beautifully crafted existential odyssey anchored by a terrific central performance by Anastasis Georgoulas, as well as a large supporting cast, featuring striking cinematography and beautiful music. All this works in tandem to convey the central message, which investigates the journey that many take in an effort to become whole, without realising that existence is not about finding meaning, but rather acknowledging that maybe the answers are not ours to find in the first place.