As a film that documents the plight of an undocumented Filipina transwoman living in the United States, Isabel Sandoval’s “Lingua Franca” embodies the fresh face of cinema in 2020. As the first year of a new decade circles around the corner, Sandoval stands with her arms out, ready to greet the oncoming culture shift with a quiet, politically minded drama that strives to speak out for the unheard and shine a light on marginalized artists seeking to gain a foothold in the industry. This is the way of the future.
The story of “Lingua Franca” follows Olivia (played by Sandoval), the caretaker of the Alzheimer-afflicted, Russian widow Olga (Lynn Cohen), who also moonlights as the romantic interest for Alex (Eamon Farren), a recovering alcoholic and Olga’s grandson. With opportunities for marriage-based green cards fading further from sight and tension between Olivia and Alex growing hotter by the day, the Filipina immigrant is confronted with a series of decisions that threaten to disrupt the future of her life in the United States.
As the first transwoman of color to write, direct, and headline a film at the Venice Film Festival, Sandoval is a rising star whose efforts earned her the respect of the festival circuit crowd and, most recently, Ava DuVernay. Although seven years have passed since the release of Sandoval’s sophomore feature “Apparition”—the follow-up to “Señorita,” her feature film debut— “Lingua” marks the first time that the Filipina all-star has adopted the roles of director, writer, lead actress, editor, and producer on a single project. Consequently, Sandoval’s deep-rooted connection to the material shines bright, even though the events portrayed on-screen are not strictly autobiographical.
Notably, the synergy pulsating through the veins of “Lingua Franca” boldly empowers the expression of minorities—specifically trans-people of color—but achieves this objective without ostracizing or condemning individuals outside of the aforementioned cultural spheres. Confident tranquility complements the film’s endeavor to fuse human drama with clear-cut commentary. Crisp colors, affectionate silence, and patient momentum equip “Lingua Franca” with a strikingly mature aesthetic, a self-assured cadence uncharacteristic of most socially conscious films in the independent arena.
As an artist juggling an assortment of creative tasks, Sandoval accomplishes most of her responsibilities in a fashion that warrants admiration; Olivia’s character exudes an understated combination of fear and resolution, which is assisted by Sandoval’s mood-intensive, sensuous directorial vision. On the other hand, Eamon Farren—the film’s standout performer, who you might remember as Richard Horne from “Twin Peaks: The Return”—operates as a perfect on-screen counterpart to Sandoval. The actor’s portrayal of Alex, a shattered man searching for a fresh start, brims with a fiery compassion and broken empathy.
Identity serves as the central theme tucked away in the film’s sparse arsenal of ideas, a topic exemplified by Olivia’s limbo state of citizenship as well as Alex’s struggle to combat the consequences of his past faults. Similarly, sexuality both unites and divides the two characters. Comparably, Alex lives in a violently masculine world—the ex-alcoholic works as a butcher and surrounds himself with misogynistic peers—while Olivia battles to progress beyond the painful reminders of her past and accept her current femininity.
Unfortunately, like its main characters, “Lingua Franca” remains in a constant state of wandering and never locates a much-needed punctuation mark to conclude its rambling, surface-level thesis. The scattered social commentary is confined to clipped excerpts of speeches by President Trump, podcast snippets, and a startlingly awkward depiction of an ICE raid. Faint traces of paranoia hang in the air, but the film’s demure countenance deprives “Lingua Franca” of achieving any lasting impact. Disjointed editing frequently sabotages momentum or, to a worse extent, misjudges boredom for mood—empty moments linger for too long, and scenes deprived of plot or character development repeatedly outstay their welcome.
While Sandoval’s austere drama deserves its due credit, “Lingua Franca” is not only forgettable but vastly disposable. A definite lack of thought-provoking conversation is raised by the film’s rumination on its topics, and the work’s overly familiar traits are never explored from a unique perspective. In the case of a film conceived by a clearly talented artist, one would hope that Sandoval’s work would mirror her potential, but “Lingua Franca,” a film preoccupied with formulaic ideas and distracted by speaking points, falls short of its goals. Fleeting moments of beauty cannot deter the overwhelming sensation of stagnation but instead imparts the viewer with an unfilled buzz by the time the credits roll. In the end, “Lingua Franca” might build a stepping stone for greater things to follow in its steps, and for some, that will be enough. [C+]
“Lingua Franca” is available now in select theaters and on Netflix.
