I recently spoke (or rather, endlessly praised), Maria Speth’s ambitious education-based documentary, Mr Bachmann and His Class, which is destined to represent a seismic shift in how such simple stories are told. However, this piqued my curiosity enough to venture deeper into the director’s career, as she has steadily been producing films that are not massively well-known outside her native Germany, for reasons that become increasingly clear as we look deeper into the kinds of stories she told. Daughters (German: Töchter) is the film immediately preceding her acclaimed documentary, and it tells the story of a middle-aged university professor venturing into the bustling city of Berlin after she receives notification that the identification document of her missing daughter was found on the body of a young woman, with the question being whether this deceased individual is her daughter, or just a stranger. Along the way, she encounters a peculiar young woman who becomes radically obsessed with the traveller, forcing herself into the life of a woman who would much rather process her emotions on her own time, rather than being forced to answer the most difficult questions about a situation that any parent would struggle to endure without an enormous amount of resilience and courage. Daughters is an achingly beautiful, heartbreaking film that confirms Speth as a major talent, and whose work deserves a much wider audience, especially now that she has received a considerable boost in esteem as a result of her most recent work.

As is often the case with the most affecting works, Daughters is an extremely simple film – the premise is straightforward, and the overarching narrative does not lend itself to much complexity. On the surface level, we can essentially reduce this film to the story of a mother searching for a daughter she knows she is likely never going to see again, while being simultaneously “adopted” by a mysterious young woman who presents herself at quite an inopportune time in this grieving mother’s life. The nuance comes in how Speth explores both central figures as individual characters, who carry their own trauma and existential quandaries, as well as in contrast with one another, the growing and unintentional relationship between the two forming the foundation of many fascinating, but oddly discordant, conversations centred on themes that may be familiar to many of us, even if the story itself is more abstract. Speth has had much experience with these quiet, intimate stories that depend on human connection, where the focus isn’t too heavily reliant on progressing the plot as it is about portraying the internal machinations of her subjects. Throughout Daughters, we are privy to the inner workings of two profoundly broken souls who technically find each other by chance, but the film questions whether it was merely a coincidence that they came into contact, or if it was some work of celestial fate that brought them together. It lends the film a very deep and evocative quality, and allows the director to work some deeply meaningful commentary into a story that would not traditionally find itself treading such deeply emotional territory.

At the heart of the film are two incredibly complex performances by the protagonists, who turn in amazing work that sometimes feels like they were more compelling than the story allowed them to be. Corinna Kirchhoff is the older “mother” figure who ventures into Berlin to determine whether a corpse is that of her missing daughter, or someone else entirely, while Kathleen Morgeneyer is the “daughter”, the newly-minted companion of a woman who really only wants to be left alone to her own devices. The film is built almost entirely on the dynamic between these two women – the inter-generational conflict forms much of the foundation, with the conservative Agnes standing in stark contrast to Ines, whose reckless, parasitic way of living life is not something that the older woman necessarily finds all that appealing or worthy of attention (interestingly, a brief conversation between the two states that their names come from the same root, proving how they’re somehow linked, even if only by coincidence). They’re two wildly different performances that somehow work together perfectly, complementing each other in ways that you may not expect when first encountering them. As said previously, Speth has seemed to have a fascination with stories of human connection, and through pulling out these performances from undeniably gifted actresses, she manages to weave together a very poignant and intricately woven story of two lost souls that don’t realise the importance of working together, since they are the spiritual balm the other needed to heal the wounds left by their traumatic pasts.

Speth doesn’t leave much to the imagination, and it doesn’t take long to realise that the central motif in this film is that of a mother-daughter relationship in various forms. The plot device that kickstarts the film is a parent’s search for her child, a conventional and simple story that is not unique on its own terms. However, the moment the character of Ines enters, we realise where this story is heading. Both women are on a metaphysical journey to find themselves, set to the backdrop of one of Europe’s most beautiful but enigmatic cities (which Speth captures beautifully, showing clear fondness for the city, and proving to make Berlin a character on its own), and realising there is more to their journey than just what they see on the surface. Agnes in particular is a fascinating character – she is an ordinary woman without any discernible qualities at first, but as we get to know her, we realise that this voyage isn’t solely to find her daughter – if anything, it is less about finding her daughter as much as it is gaining answers to the burning questions that have plagued her for years. Ultimately, she (and the audience) know that her daughter is most likely dead – the body of the young woman found at the start of the film is implied to be that of Agnes’ child, her denial being just another way of processing her grief. This occurs concurrently with the arrival of Ines, who begins to take the place of the lost daughter, even if unintentionally so. Speth uses this dynamic as the launching-point for a harrowing exploration of grief, the kind that is often considered the worst, since it is regularly stated that one of the most difficult challenges a parent could face is losing their child, a trauma that is likely never going to abate, regardless of how much mourning they endure.

Daughters is an immensely beautiful and heartbreaking film about a mother seeking out answers surrounding her daughter’s disappearance, but earning a lot more than she bargained for before undertaking this journey, as embodied by the presence of a young woman who she sees as parasitic at first, before realizing that this stranger offers something to her life that no one else does – a sense of closure, and the startling reality-check that the grieving, anxious older woman needs. It’s a difficult film that has many tough conversations embedded in the story, but it is also one that frequently (and with stark consistency) manages to become something very impactful, a poignant manifesto on the nature of parenthood, and how it can bring as much joy as it does sadness. Speth is extremely gifted, and as a voice in contemporary German cinema, she continues to ascend to a position of becoming one of the most important recent filmmakers to emerge from the country. The director proves her mettle as not only a great filmmaker who can weave together a captivating story, but someone capable of capturing the human condition in its most pure and untouched form, which gives Daughters a sense of authenticity, offering genuine insights into the reality several have faced, and the journey they undertook to heal their wounds and find the closure they so desperately sought. It’s powerful, potent and extremely sad, but has a sense of optimism lurking beneath the hopelessness that makes this film a vital work of contemporary German cinema, and a worthwhile entry into a growing canon of human stories curated by a gifted filmmaker who continues to redefine the boundaries of her craft.