Linda, the feature directorial debut from Mariana Wainstein, is one of the unexpected standouts of the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival. Surrounded by bright lights and big names, Linda emerges as a compelling, small-scale narrative about a seemingly perfect family and the woman who inadvertently exposes the cracks in their facade. The film explores the power dynamics that exist between a family and the people they hire to work for them as well as desire. How is desire manifested in a claustrophobic home where there aren’t supposed to be any secrets?
Linda (Eugenia “China” Suárez) is hired as a maid to replace her cousin, who is recovering from an injury. The family she’s going to clean for is extremely wealthy, their house resembling the one featured in Bong Joon-Ho’s Parasite. It is Luisa (Julieta Cardinali), the matriarch of the family, who first meets Linda. Their time together is pleasant and professional, but the audience can tell that something is brewing. The rest of the family, father Camilo (Rafael Spregelburd), daughter Matilda (Minerva Casero), and son Cefe (Felipe Otaño), all fall under a similar spell when Linda gazes at them. As she becomes more involved in the daily routines of everyone, the perfect image fades.
It was interesting to see Linda and Babygirl within days of each other. Both are films that deal with the way power plays a role in sexual relationships and how sexual desire can create and remove power. Babygirl is far buzzier, with A24’s backing and Nicole Kidman giving her oddest performance since Eyes Wide Shut, but it’s Linda that has something more interesting to say. Each family member’s interaction with Linda says something about power dynamics and sexuality. Cefe is obsessed with the idea of Linda, and so is Matilda, but they act on it in different ways. Cefe films Linda when she unaware and asks her to take his virginity because his friend lost his virginity to his maid. To this, Linda replies that she is most certainly not his maid.
In the case of Matilda, there seems to be a combination of lust and the desire to emulate Linda’s casual coolness. Matilda wants Linda’s attention on her and only her. Both Matilda and Cefe may not realize it, but they use their privilege and position as the children of Linda’s employers to their advantage. Subconsciously or not, they know that Linda has to humor them to a certain extent because they have some control over her livelihood. It’s their parents who are far more aware of this, but only Camilo who actively exploits it. He desperately tries to get Linda to sleep with him, doing everything short of physically forcing himself onto her, but she doesn’t humor him for a second. It’s quite comical to watch this grown man continue to awkwardly, but also confidently, hit on someone who is visibly unimpressed by every word that comes out of his mouth. It is Luisa, who is trying the least, if at all, to win over Linda’s affections, who actually gains them.
In contrast to Babygirl, Linda weaves a far more tangled sexual, socio-economic, and power dynamic web, but it emerges with a nuanced critique of the relationship between a family and the hired help. As much as people would like to say that they treat their cleaners, cooks, drivers, etc. as members of the family, when push comes to shove there will always be a divide. Linda mines the depths of these varying relationships to show how similar they all are at the end of the day. As much as the family desires Linda’s attention and affection, they are more than willing to throw her away when she doesn’t match their expectations.
Linda is a loose retelling of Deolinda Correa, a famous South American story of a woman who traversed the desert with her baby in search of her husband. Legend has it that she passed away from hunger and thirst, but the baby survived because Deolinda’s breast was still producing milk. While Linda’s version involves some sacrifice because she has to leave her child behind, the film reframes the story as one of desire and how desire can overwrite self-preservation.