NINA

The scouts

Nina is competent at what it does—intimate portrait of digital-age loneliness—but it's treading water in a pond everyone's already waded through; the dark comedy setup promises subversion that never quite arrives, leaving you with a well-made film that plays it safe when it could've detonated something.

Soria demonstrates formal control in the collage of anxiety and obsession, building a measured rhythm that echoes the fragmented consciousness of contemporary portraiture—there's lineage here, a studied restraint that respects the viewer's intelligence.

The film's real trick is how it collapses the boundary between Nina's tactile, physical rituals and her digital life through sound design alone—a choice that transforms what could've been a generic anxiety narrative into something tactile and specific, letting you feel the blur rather than be told it exists.