Premiered at the 2025 Hot Docs Festival on April 27th, Ghosts of the Sea is a debut feature that doesn’t just tell a story—it feels it. Directed by Virginia Tangvald, and presented in French and English with subtitles, this 97-minute documentary is an intimate, melancholic, and poetically told exploration of family trauma and personal healing, set against the ever-moving backdrop of the open sea. The film’s core is Tangvald’s search to understand the legacy of her famous father, Peter Tangvald—a legendary Norwegian sailor—and her brilliant yet troubled half-brother, Thomas. Born into a life of salt and tide, Virginia sailed with her family until age two. After tragedy pulled them apart, she returns years later to trace the ghosts that shaped—and shattered—their lives.
What makes this film remarkable isn’t just the personal stakes; it’s the craft. The cinematography, by Glauco Bermudez and Etienne Roussy, is nothing short of breathtaking. You can feel the sea in this film—the quiet lapping of water at dawn, the glint of sun on waves, the terrifying beauty of storms rolling in. Some shots seem almost impossible: vast aerial sweeps of oceanic stillness followed by tight, rocking cabin interiors that reflect the claustrophobia of grief and memory. The sound design, by Philippe Grivel, is layered and immersive. Every creak of a boat hull, every gust of wind, every soft rustle of a letter being opened or a door swinging shut is calibrated to pull you closer. The sound does not intrude—it surrounds. It gives the film emotional weight, grounding its dreamy pace in a tactile, lived-in world. Rémi Boubal’s original music deserves special attention. It is not overused or overly sentimental. The score flows beneath the film like a current—gentle, sometimes sorrowful, occasionally swelling, always with intent. The track that plays during the end credits is especially moving, giving a sense of calm closure. It doesn’t declare a triumphant ending—it releases you, like Virginia, herself letting go of a heavy sail. Another emotionally honest element in the film is when Virginia interviews friends, family, and her mother, uncovering both admiration and harsh truths. Her father is portrayed not only as a heroic adventurer but also as a distant, obsessive man whose pursuit of freedom left emotional wreckage in his wake. “You cannot live your whole life with the car windows open,” Virginia says—a quietly profound metaphor about how freedom without grounding can lead to abandonment. Thomas is depicted as a heart-wrenching figure: a child shaped by genius, loss, and isolation. A Cambridge professor once described him as “treasured,” yet his face reveals the pain of someone caught between brilliance and unprocessed trauma. The film does not turn his story into a mystery to be solved; instead, it allows his absence to speak volumes, and for Virginia, that is sufficient.
There is a warning Virginia receives in the film: “Don’t investigate too deeply… it might lead to nothing.” But that’s what gives the film its soul—she chooses to investigate anyway. Not in search of answers, but for peace. This is where the heart of the documentary lies: in the quiet bravery of confronting what may never fully make sense. Ghosts of the Sea never feels like it’s trying to educate or preach. It simply invites you to drift along, to sit with its questions, and to witness someone transforming inherited sorrow into something navigable. In a way, Virginia Tangvald takes control not of her family’s story, but of her narrative within it. That alone makes the film worth watching. It is not released on any streaming platforms yet, but if you get the chance to watch it—do it. Let yourself be carried by the waves.
Listen to the audio review here:
