The Unseen Geneva: How ‘Summer Drift’ Reclaims Identity, Cinema, and a City
There’s something profoundly moving about a film that dares to look beyond the polished surface of a place. Summer Drift, premiering at ACID Cannes, does exactly that—but it’s not just about Geneva. It’s about the stories we tell ourselves, the spaces we reclaim, and the ways we redefine identity in a world that often refuses to see us. Personally, I think this film is a masterclass in how cinema can be both deeply personal and fiercely political.
A Car, a City, and a Revolution
One thing that immediately stands out is the central role of Johanna’s vintage VW Beetle. It’s not just a car; it’s a metaphor, a time capsule, and a battleground. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the directors, Céline Carridroit and Aline Suter, use the car to weave together themes of identity, labor, and resistance. The Beetle becomes a reflection of Johanna’s transition—its restoration mirrors her own reclamation of self. But what many people don’t realize is that this isn’t just a symbolic choice; it’s a practical one too. The car’s unpredictability forced the filmmakers to adapt, blending fiction and reality in a way that feels more authentic than any purely documentary approach could.
Geneva’s Hidden Layers
If you take a step back and think about it, Geneva is often reduced to its glossy international image—banks, diplomacy, luxury. But Summer Drift peels back that veneer to reveal a city of squats, queer spaces, and working-class garages. This isn’t just a film about a person; it’s a film about a place. Carridroit and Suter are reclaiming Geneva’s history of resistance, archiving a city in flux. From my perspective, this is where the film’s true power lies. It’s not just telling Johanna’s story; it’s placing her story within a broader narrative of struggle and transformation.
16mm: A Political Aesthetic
The decision to shoot on 16mm is more than a stylistic choice—it’s a statement. What this really suggests is that cinema itself has a history of exclusion, particularly when it comes to trans representation. By placing Johanna within the warm, textured aesthetic of 16mm, the directors are inserting her into a visual language that historically erased people like her. It’s a bold move, and one that raises a deeper question: How can we use the tools of cinema to challenge its own biases?
Friendship as Resistance
A detail that I find especially interesting is the film’s focus on friendship. Johanna’s bond with Rocco and Leticia isn’t just a subplot—it’s the heart of the film. In a world that often reduces trans stories to narratives of struggle, Summer Drift celebrates joy, affection, and community. The raft scene, in particular, is a testament to the power of simply being seen and loved for who you are. This isn’t just a film about identity; it’s a film about connection.
The ACID Cannes Moment
Bringing Summer Drift to ACID Cannes feels like a full-circle moment. What makes it particularly fascinating is that Johanna, Rocco, and Leticia are joining the directors. This isn’t just a film premiere; it’s a collective act of visibility. Personally, I’m most intrigued by how Johanna will navigate this new world. She’s not interested in fame, and that’s precisely what makes her story so compelling. It’s a reminder that representation isn’t just about being seen—it’s about being seen on your own terms.
Final Thoughts
Summer Drift is more than a film; it’s a conversation starter. It challenges us to rethink how we tell stories, who gets to tell them, and why. In my opinion, its greatest achievement is how it balances the intimate and the universal. Johanna’s story is hers alone, but the themes of reclamation, resistance, and connection resonate far beyond Geneva. If you take a step back and think about it, this film isn’t just about one woman’s journey—it’s about all of us, and the spaces we’re still fighting to reclaim.
