Rivka (Judith Zins) checks into the titular accommodation, accompanied by an urn containing the ashes of her partner Hugo. She’s also carrying Hugo’s baby and a deep, painful wound on her back which has refused to heal in the wake of Hugo’s passing, Having been advised to isolate herself from those around her, she plans an evening of solitude until Abel (Sébastien Houbani), a face from her past, shows up unexpectedly at her window and she allows him into the room…
Written and directed by Sarah Lasry, Hotel Acropole is an often artful two hander which explores love, loss, regret and manages to walk the line between erotica and body horror all in its twenty minutes. The dialogue may occasionally sail close to being too on the nose, but there’s a shorthand at work which needs to deal with unresolved issues between our two protagonists, the fallout of a love triangle and the mystery surrounding Rivka’s lengthy lesion, a glistening, seeping marvel of FX from David Scherer.
Short on runtime doesn’t mean short on emotion and Lasry knows when to hold a look for an extra second or emphasise a pregnant (yes, apologies for the pun) pause. If the set-up of two old acquaintances skirting around an obvious elephant in the room seems familiar, it is. Knowing glances, loaded sentences. You’ve been here before. And yet, there’s a precision about Lasry’s eye for the setting and the interactions between her leads which means you haven’t.
The quality of the performances from Zins and Houbani, coupled with the uncommon intensity of the overall atmosphere, elevates this unusual relationship mini-drama further even before it unveils a sequence of Cronenberg-esque sexy/gross strangeness as the launching point for the payoff. Elsewhere, this might feel like a cheap shot to haul in some genre credibility, but Hotel Acropole has built specifically towards this and, even if you can feel your gorge rising, there’s an acceptance and an inevitability as to how this story will play out.
After the initial dose of obfuscation and with key details about all of the characters – dead or alive – shrouded in doubt, it’s a surprise that the resolution of Hotel Acropole is, in many ways, a straightforward one. The burden of Rivka’s grief and her guilt about the past is complex and murky but the potential route through is signposted along the way and isn’t there just to provide closure in this contained environment.
Could Hotel Acropole be expanded into a feature? No doubt. There’s enough of the unexplored in Rivka, Abel and the offscreen, oft mentioned Hugo’s backgrounds to flesh out these people and supply yet more intrigue. As it stands, this exquisitely presented package, gorgeously framed by cinematographer Manuel Bolaños, gets to the heart of the matter in fleet fashion and leaves you with at least one image which won’t be leaving your mind in a hurry.
Hotel Acropole (2025) received its world premiere at the Fantasia International Film Festival on 27th July.