A brief stop on the island of Andros will have you longing for adventure, perhaps descending on Buenos Aires or maybe fighting the dangers the Bay of Biscay has to offer, that’s if you’re not partial to a Japanese kimono or two. A sailor’s life for me.
Back home, love is everything to Orsa and Spyros but mother knows best; come back when you’re a Captain Spyros, then we’ll talk. It’s better not to marry the one you love anyway, then it won’t hurt as much when they stray; mother and embittered wife of a Captain knows best. However, Orsa likes to keep her love a secret, it’s better that way. Who else will understand the gift of a rusty spoon? Anyway, mother has arranged a union with a nice young man called Nikos. He’s a good man and he’s a Captain.
Meanwhile, young and carefree Moscha’s crush on her English teacher is long forgotten when mother sets her up with a rather handsome moustachioed Captain, very eligible. What’s that? His name is Spyros? Oh, awkward.
Moscha and Orsa live in the house mother provided along with Spyros and Nikos; a duplex so they can stay close together and raise their children and play happy families. Keep your friends close, keep your secret lovers closer. Soon the torture of Spyros’ every move, every footstep and every sound amplified are too much for Orsa, keeping her awake at night. It also seems that Spyros and Moscha are trying to re-position the bed. A lot. No matter how much they try, they can’t quite get it right.
From here, director Pantelis Voulgaris entwines us in the deep emotions of the forlorn Orsa, caught in the middle of her own worst nightmare. A deep bond with her sister only grows as their husbands sail the world but can they ever be truly happy again? The rather drawn out proceedings, well-acted upon the stunning backdrops of Mikra Anglia, really engage you in the emotional turmoil unfolding, oft represented by the mood of the sea as it negotiates the beaches of Andros. Perhaps we are all feeling a little grief stricken by the end, perhaps it could have been shorter but then would we really understand Orsa’s plight and her connection to a modest token of love; a rusty spoon?