The Holy Girl

Lucrecia Martel directed this potent drama of love, sex, misunderstanding, and coming-of-age. Amalia (María Alche) is a girl edging into her early teens who has begun to ripen into adulthood. Amalia lives in a big hotel owned and operated by her divorced mother, Helena (Mercedes Morán), and her uncle Freddy (Alejandro Urdapilleta). Amalia and her best friend, Josefina (Julieta Zylberberg), are becoming increasingly aware of their own desires and are curious about sex, but between their Catholic education and Helena's unwillingness to discuss such matters with her daughter, their speculation outstrips their actual knowledge. A convention for medical workers brings Dr. Jano (Carlos Belloso) and a number of his colleagues to the hotel. Emboldened by the festive atmosphere, the timid doctor presses his body up against Amalia's, unaware of her age. The married Dr. Jano is embarrassed by his actions and troubled by his strong attraction to Helena; Amalia, meanwhile, is convinced the doctor has become overcome with unholy lust, and she and Josefina take it upon themselves to save him from himself before it is too late. La Niña Santa (aka The Holy Child) was produced in part by internationally acclaimed filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar. — Mark Deming

AMG Review
Lucrecia Martel's The Holy Girl offers a rare combination of boldly ambitious themes, encompassing the power of nascent sexuality and the nature of sin, with a commendable moral complexity and depth of characterization. With remarkable subtlety and grace, Martel delineates a minor tragedy brought about by compulsive behavior and the uncontrolled passions of an adolescent girl channeled into well-intended destruction. Throughout the film, Martel shows impressive command of potentially incendiary material, avoiding any melodrama that doesn't take in her teenage protagonist's head. Set at a doctors' conference at a rundown hotel, the film encompasses multitudinous subplots filled with gossip, corruption, and petty betrayal, but Martel never once lets her story stray from a convincing evocation of the real world. Everyone has their own agenda, and no one anticipates its ultimate effect on those around them. Dr. Jano (Carlos Belloso) is hardly an ogre, but he lets himself give in to his baser instincts, using the anonymity of the crowd as cover. Hoping to cop a quick feel and slip away, he accidentally engages the full attention of Amalia (the unsettlingly voluptuous young Maria Alché), who only wants to find and fulfill God's plan for her. Confident enough to end her film on the brink of a precipice, Martel is anything but moralist. Her work is at once humane, encompassing every shade of gray, and bracingly cold-eyed in its assessment of human endeavor. — Josh Ralske