The limits of consent

What I aim to discuss through Nina is above all where the limits of consent lie from an active, feminine perspective, in terms of the psychological and social complexity that this type of relationship involves. It is easy to categorise the rape of a minor, but how do we define abuse when there is apparent consent?

This reflection prompted my in-depth study of the characters and the narrative construct of time in the film, to be able to discuss two important points: first, that abusers aren't always people with a label on their forehead saying "danger, abuser", and what is more, they themselves are often unaware of their own aggression. Throughout history, behaviours which we now see as abusive have been consented an normalised between educated and powerful adults and captivated girls. This film is in fact based on the text Nina, by José Ramón Fernández, who in turn bases his characters on Chekhov's The Seagull. In both texts Nina, who has been deceived, mistreated and abandoned by a powerful man, returns to her village broken, but forgives because of love, and says that thanks to this suffering she has learned to be a better actress. This takes me onto the second point: fortunately, times are changing, and we are beginning to review and question the social structures within which we have built ourselves up as people. It is this temporal dichotomy that the story of Nina occupies.

The film also speaks of the complicit or involuntarily cowardly silence of society, of villages, of the fear of speaking of the victims out of shame or guilt, and the way in which the wounds progressively grow within. It speaks of social inequalities and how they can condition us, of provinces, of broken dreams… and I do so by constantly playing with cinematic symbolism.

All within a story of revenge, where a woman with a shotgun turns up to settle the score, in pure western style.

Andrea Jaurrieta
Director of Nina

Film:Nina