‘In The Summers’ Review – A Poignant Exploration Of Redemption And Family Dynamics

In In the Summers, Alessandra Lacorazza Samudio makes a powerful feature debut, crafting an emotionally rich story about family, broken relationships, and the long, painful journey toward redemption. Spanning two decades and told in four parts, the film chronicles the changing dynamics between a father and his two daughters, touching on themes of forgiveness, growth, and the lingering consequences of past mistakes.

The story opens with Vicente, played by Puerto Rican musician René Pérez Joglar (also known as Residente), who is filled with optimism as he prepares for the arrival of his two young daughters, Eva and Violeta. Every summer, they visit him in New Mexico, where he lives in a modest home inherited from his mother. In the early scenes, Vicente is eager to be the father he imagines they need. He tidies his house, readies the backyard, and ensures everything is just right for their stay, creating the image of a loving, if imperfect, parent.

As the summers pass and the girls grow older, the cracks in Vicente’s façade begin to show. His struggles with fatherhood become more apparent, revealing an inability to handle the responsibilities he had initially embraced. Lacorazza Samudio cleverly uses visual metaphors throughout the film, with the swimming pool in the backyard reflecting Vicente’s mental and emotional state. What begins as a well-maintained space gradually falls into neglect, symbolizing the decline in both his psychological well-being and his relationship with his daughters.

The film takes a dark turn as Vicente’s descent into alcoholism and addiction becomes apparent. By the second part of the story, we see the once playful and loving father unable to resist his vices, even in the presence of his young daughters. A particularly chilling moment occurs when Vicente, already under the influence, drives his daughters home from a night out, treating the dangerous situation like a game. This moment is a turning point for his eldest daughter, Violeta, who begins to see her father in a new, more critical light. For Eva, however, the blind adoration for her father remains, highlighting the complex ways in which children come to terms with their parents’ flaws.

By the final act of the film, Violeta and Eva are older and have grown disillusioned with their father. Vicente, now fully consumed by his addiction, struggles to maintain any form of stable relationship with them. His once-hopeful outlook has deteriorated, giving way to frustration, self-loathing, and a powerless grip on his destructive habits. The emotional chasm between Vicente and his daughters widens with each passing summer, leaving their relationship seemingly beyond repair.

What makes In the Summers so compelling is its refusal to spoon-feed the audience with tidy resolutions. Lacorazza Samudio isn’t interested in granting Vicente an easy path to redemption, nor does she neatly tie up the frayed edges of this family’s troubled past. Instead, she offers a film that feels more like a lived-in experience than a polished narrative, where the messiness of human relationships—the ones that sting the most, like those between parents and their children—unfolds with raw honesty. The film doesn’t ask us to forgive Vicente, nor does it present change as a grand epiphany. Instead, it’s like a slow burn, a flickering candle where hope flickers in unexpected places, illuminating the way people evolve, but never in the ways we predict or hope for. The film invites us to sit with the discomfort of imperfection, knowing that, sometimes, growth is simply learning to live with the cracks instead of fixing them.

René Pérez Joglar’s portrayal of Vicente is nothing short of a tour de force, a revelation in its subtlety and depth. In his first leading role, Joglar inhabits a man whose love for his daughters is undeniable, yet constantly clouded by his own self-destructive tendencies. With quiet intensity, he peels back the layers of Vicente’s soul, exposing a character who is at once painfully flawed and deeply human. Joglar captures the delicate balance of a man teetering between his desire for redemption and the weight of his past mistakes. His performance anchors the film, imbuing it with a raw emotional gravity that lingers long after the final frame. It is through Joglar’s eyes that we witness Vicente’s journey—from a hopeful, if misguided, father to a man broken by his own failings, and finally to someone striving, however imperfectly, for forgiveness. It is a performance that transcends the screen, elevating the film into a powerful meditation on the complexities of love, regret, and reconciliation.

The ensemble cast, particularly Sasha Calle and Lio Mehiel as the adult versions of Eva and Violeta, deliver performances that simmer with quiet power. They embody the weight of a lifetime spent navigating the emotional wreckage left by their father. Their portrayals are not loud or overwrought but delicate, like the lingering echo of a wound that has never fully healed. As Eva and Violeta, they carry the resilience of children who’ve been scarred but remain in search of closure, still yearning to understand a man who has let them down time and again.