Drift (2023)

This film is one of those films that gives a shit about loud announcements. Neither does it have a dramatic score trying to tell you when to let your precious tears flow, also there’s no rushed dialogue, no mighty “this is the point! moments. It’s just there but it sits with you, quietly and sometimes uncomfortably.

Synopsis

The story follows Jacqueline (Cynthia Erivo), a Liberian refugee living unhoused on a Greek island, carrying heavy trauma from her past. She survives day by day, scavenging, avoiding people and barely speaking until she meets Callie (Alia Shawkat), an American tour guide whose warmth slowly cracks through Jacqueline’s isolation.

Review and Rating

What struck me most is how much the film trusts silence. To be honest I was almost pissed as it seemed like I was watching a movie for deaf people but as it went on, I enjoyed the emotional depth. Jacqueline barely talks for long stretches, and yet I felt everything she’s carrying. Her pain isn’t dramatized; it’s internal, restrained, almost heavy in the way real grief is. Cynthia Erivo on the other hand gives a performance that’s raw without being showy. Her performance is the kind that doesn’t beg for attention but earns it anyway.

The setting also plays a huge role here. The Greek island is beautiful, almost painfully so and that contrast, stunning landscapes against a woman who feels completely detached from life makes the film hit harder. It reminds you that healing doesn’t magically happen just because you’re somewhere pretty. Trauma doesn’t care about scenery.

Callie’s character is another thing I appreciated. She isn’t written as a savior or a miracle fix. She’s just kind, curious and patient. Their connection grows slowly, awkwardly and realistically. You’ll not see any forced bonding or instant friendship. It’s just two women finding each other in the quiet spaces.

That said, I will hold your hands and tell you that this isn’t a film for everyone. It’s slow as hell and can have your patience hanging on a thread. It is intentionally slow. If you’re expecting plot twists or dramatic turns, you might feel restless. But if you let it move at its own pace like I did, trust me, there’s something deeply human about it. The film isn’t actually trying to entertain you, it’s asking you to witness someone’s pain and gradually return to herself.

By the time the emotional weight fully reveals itself, it doesn’t feel manipulative. It feels earned, soft, but heavy. Hopeful, but not unrealistically so.

Rating: 7.9/10
Recommended to viewers who appreciate quiet, character-driven films and anyone interested in stories about trauma, displacement, and healing. Also recommended to people who don’t mind slow burns and long silences.

All in all, Drift isn’t a movie you rush through. It’s one you sit with and maybe think about a lil longer after it ends.