The haunting bellow of the circa-2000 Nokia 3310 text message alert rings through Icíar Bollaín’s I Am Nevenka, detailing the true life exploits of one-time mayor of Ponferrada and sexual abuser, Ismael Álvarez. Yet the story is told from the perspective of his harried victim, Nevenka Fernández (Mireia Oriol), whose swift ascent up the ranks of the city council led her to be ensnared in Álvarez’ wide net of influence – his incessant calls and messages were only part of the problem.
The film is a valid continuation of a small but vital sub-genre of #MeToo cinema that has sought to uncover and denounce the exploits of powerful men who are willing to go to any distance to get what they want. We meet Navenka as a naieve university student who decides to return to her hometown to take up a position on the local council while completing her degree in Madrid. Her female colleagues are instantly wise to how and why this young, attractive, apparently-malleable woman is able to make such a strong impression, while male colleagues have the same thoughts, but want to make sure they’re keeping the boss happy.
Urko Olazabal as Álvarez goes for full-on predator mode, his terrifying, toothy smile often making Navenka bridle in fear. As a man who’s politically savvy enough in the deal-making stakes, he lets his intentions be known early, forcing Navenka to consider that she’s perhaps not here entirely for her professional qualifications. After being banjaxed into a sexual relationship, she quickly backs away, believing that her influential paymaster will be the gentleman and accept his defeat. And that’s when things start to get very nasty.
There are parts during the mid-section of the film which play like a horror movie, in which Álvarez’ mere presence borders on the pantomime villain. Oriol’s overly-expressive performance resembles that of a scream queen trying to escape a haunted house, and maybe that’s the point of the film? And like with horror movies, you see things happen in which you question internally, “Run! Go away! Get out of there!”. And yet, Nevenka cannot move, frozen in fear, but also wise to the horrendous ramifications to family, friends and colleagues if she were to make a scene, particularly knowing that Álvarez operates more like a populist crime boss than a local politico.
Yet, Bollaín does not ignore this, and returns to the question of why Nevenka didn’t just escape and start a new life elsewhere. And while the film does push things into grizzly soap opera territory at times, a lot more intent with focusing on the moments of private psychological abuse than offering something a little more nuanced, it does at least try to account for that. It’s a trashy, tabloid-y film, but it’s a fine one, and a story that still needs to be told again, and again, and again.
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