Lingua Franca (Isabel Sandoval, 2019) (Patreon)

One of the year's best American films appears to have been overlooked by a significant portion of the critical establishment. Even I took a little too long to actually watch it. While it would be easy to attribute this reluctance to Lingua Franca's subject matter -- a story about an undocumented immigrant from the Philippines who happens to be a trans woman -- I actually don't think that's it. Speaking just for me, I found that I put off watching Lingua Franca because of its presence on Netflix, which really should have made it an immediate watch. Instead, I put it in my queue and figured I'd get around to it eventually. Maybe this is the case for other viewers as well.

If 2020 hadn't been the year of Covid-19, it's possible that Lingua Franca might've had a higher profile release. Had that been the case, potential viewers would have been alerted to a few important things about Sandoval's film. First of all, while it is refreshingly frank in its portrayal of a trans woman, it is not the "issue film" some people might expect. Sandoval, who is herself trans and plays Olivia, the lead character, does articulate the specific problems that a trans immigrant faces. Part of Lingua Franca's intelligence is the way that it demonstrates that race, gender, nationality, and immigration status are not some kind of litany of liberal plaints. For the most part, Lingua Franca doesn't "virtue signal." Instead, it depicts the ways that multiple facets of identity coalesce in a given life, and how none of them are separable.

While a certain amount of Lingua Franca is indeed about Olivia's immigration crisis, and the costly solution she appears to have found for the problem, it is primarily about the complex beginning of a relationship. Olivia is the caregiver for Olga (Lynn Cohen), an elderly New Yorker who is slowly drifting into dementia. The sudden reappearance of Alex (Eamon Farren), Olga's grandson, results in his crossing paths with Olivia. Alex, who has his own emotional and family issues, turns to Olivia as a source of support. Soon, they begin dating.

While Sandoval tackles the conflicts of being undocumented and trans head-on, Lingua Franca is a quiet, contemplative film. The director's cinephilia continually shines through, as she presents the atmosphere of Brighton Beach through patient establishing shots, shadowed interiors, and a spatial sense that contrasts the freedom of the city with the relative claustrophobia of Olivia's circumstances. One will detect notes of Chantal Akerman, Claire Denis, and Ira Sachs throughout Lingua Franca.

Even as I write this, I realize I am failing to do justice to this very unique film. But as a few critics' polls remain active, I want to encourage my readers to see it, as it truly is one of the most distinguished releases of 2020. Don't make the mistake I did! Don't sleep on Lingua Franca.