“The most unusual aspect of the film is its emphasis on the changing role of women in a modern, consumer-driven society.”

Directed and co-written by Mar Coll, and adapted from Basque writer Katixa Agirre’s novel Amek ez dute, Spanish thriller Salve María tells the story of a promising young author and new mother struggling to adjust to and accept motherhood while grappling with her identity as a writer.

The film, which competed for the Golden Leopard at this year’s Locarno festival, follows María (Laura Weissmahr) as she navigates the inner turmoil of caring for her newborn while simultaneously struggling with anxiety and frustration. She faces the challenges of sleep deprivation, demanding everyday tasks, an absent partner, and her passion for writing. The constant sound of her baby’s cries echoes in the background, amplifying her exhaustion and stress. Her tired eyes reflect her struggle, and though she often appears lost in deep thought, her fragile gestures reveal the intensity of her inner conflict and the vulnerability of feminine subjectivity. Feminine subjectivity is deeply intertwined with emotions; for women like María, feelings and emotions are often interconnected across personal, professional, familial, and social spheres. This complexity makes it difficult for her to perceive situations with complete rationality. To María, her child is not merely a separate being but an extension of herself—an inseparable part of her body and identity. At the same time, María strives to accept her newborn and adapt to this new reality. She is in a constant struggle with her curious, creative self, seeking to express her creativity while confronting the obstacle that is her own baby. This inner conflict creates a tension between the desire to nurture her child and the longing to pursue her artistic passions.

María becomes obsessed with the media’s sensationalized coverage of a tragic case involving a French woman who drowned her twins in a bathtub. This obsession reflects the deep inner conflict between her vivid imagination and the daily challenges of motherhood. The film portrays her rocky journey, where even simple tasks feel overwhelming; the old window frames in her cramped apartment won’t close, breastfeeding is painful, and the baby’s frequent spit-up is overlooked by everyone except her. Meanwhile, her partner (Oriol Pla) delays taking paternity leave, often leaving María to face these worries on her own.

As María struggles between her deep feelings and the tough demands of motherhood, her obsession with the gruesome news story takes over her life. In her darkest moments, she starts secretly clipping newspaper articles and penning her most horrifying fantasies, accompanied by unsettling visions of her own body. This obsessive imaginary behavior transforms her journey from an emotional drama into a subtle thriller, marking a crucial turning point that heightens the tension and intensity of her story.

At the beginning of the story, a broken window allows a crow to enter the living room, and María frantically tries to protect her child. Afterward, she repairs the window with duct tape, which makes her partner laugh. This scene illustrates her own logical way of being protective, showing her inner struggle that is often misunderstood and judged by her partner.

Salve María’s script is skillfully crafted, and the visual treatment effectively captures the protagonist’s intense emotions as it explores her symptoms and reactions to distress. Throughout the film, her partner and the audience may view her with suspicion, questioning whether she might harm her own child. At one point she confesses to her partner that she has felt the urge to kill the child, blurring the lines between reality and her imagination, which have become intertwined with her obsession over the fictional story of the French mother. This confusion ultimately leads her to distance herself from the child, leaving her partner puzzled and confused by her vulnerability by the end of the story.

However, as we delve deep into this harrowing emotional journey, it becomes evident that she instinctively strives to protect her child in her own logical manner—a sentiment that may be difficult for her partner to understand from a rational, male perspective. For me the most unusual aspect of the film is its emphasis on the changing role of women in a modern, consumer-driven society. In the end, with the child being cared for by the father, María walks into a night bar illuminated by starry lights, dancing freely. This scene highlights her pervasive narcissism, a trait commonly observed in contemporary society.

With Salve María Coll, who is renowned for her focus on intimate relationships, and acclaimed for her films Three Days with the Family (for which she received the Goya for Best New Director) and We All Want What’s Best for Her, delivers a small gem of a film with a performance by Weissmahr that was recognized at the Locarno festival.