Author: Sayantani Biswas
In this blog Sayantani Biswas reviews the Swimmers a 2022 biographical sports drama film on Netflix that tells the true story of Syrian sisters Yusra and Sara Mardini, who escape war torn Syria and pursue their dreams of swimming the Olympics. Sayantani reflects on how much we learn from this film about the refugee experience relates it to her own experiences of migration and sisterhood.
Review
There are films that wash over you like a gentle tide—comforting, familiar and predictable. And then there are those that plunge you into the depths, forcing you to confront the uncharted waters of your own psyche. The Swimmers belongs to the latter category, an unflinching cinematic swim into the subconscious that left me both breathless and contemplative.
Directed and written by Sally El Hosaini, Swimmers made its debut in 2022 as a poetic exploration of family, resilience, and the silent forces that shape us. What makes this film particularly compelling is its foundation as a story of migration and refuge. It recounts the risky voyage from war-torn Syria to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, as one of the sisters competes in the 2016 Summer Olympics. This backdrop of migration and displacement adds a profound richness to its exploration of resilience, identity, good times, ambitions and the unsaid emotions that carry individuals through upheaval. This evocative film invites viewers to dive beneath the surface of everyday life and confront the unspoken currents flowing through our relationships.
“Swimmers” illuminates the feelings and mental processes that refugees navigate. From the moment I pressed play, I was invited into an intimate dance between memory and myth. It’s a story about two sisters, the two talented swimmers with ambition, submerged in struggles that ripple beneath the surface.
What struck me most was how the Swimmers refuse to offer easy resolutions. It’s a film that revels in ambiguity, much like the ocean itself—vast, unknowable, occasionally tumultuous. The director’s poetic use of silence and stillness echoes long after the credits roll, compelling me to reflect on the quiet battles we all face, the memories submerged beneath layers of time.
Personally, I found myself drawn to the film’s portrayal of sisterhood—the tenderness, rivalry, and unbreakable bonds that define us. Watching their journey, I was reminded of my own moments of vulnerability. I recalled a summer afternoon years ago, sitting by a lake with my sister, when we both fell silent after a heated argument. We just stared into the water, feeling the weight of being overlooked. That silence, like in The Swimmers, was heavy but somehow cathartic. It was in those quiet moments that I realized how much we carry beneath the surface—fears, memories, love, resentment—all swirling like currents beneath the calm exterior.
The actress playing the older sister, reminded me of moments in my own family where words were unnecessary but understanding was intense. Watching her navigate her silence, I remembered a time when I was in a similar situation—trying to comfort someone without saying a word, just a shared look that spoke volumes. It was a reminder of how powerful restraint can be in conveying truth.
During a particularly pivotal scene—when the sisters are sitting in silence after an argument—the music swelled gently, almost like a distant tide rising. I felt the tears prick my eyes, not from sadness, but from a recognition of the quiet, persistent resilience that the music seemed to embody. It made me recall a moment during a solo walk along a riverbank at dusk, where I felt a similar mixture of longing and quiet strength, as if the water was whispering secrets only, I could hear.
“We’re just floating,” spoken softly—hit me like a wave. It encapsulated that feeling beyond our control, yet somehow safe in their flow. Watching that, I remembered a late-night conversation with a close friend, when we both admitted how much we felt adrift in life, unsure of where the flow of life would take us. That shared vulnerability, expressed through few words, made me realize that sometimes, the most meaningful truths are spoken in silence.
The character development made me recall a moment when I had a long, quiet conversation with my sibling after a disagreement. We sat on opposite ends of a room, the silence thick, until finally, a simple apology broke the barrier. Watching the sisters in Swimmers, I felt a kinship, a shared platform that sometimes silence is the most eloquent form of communication.
The recurring motif of water as both a sanctuary and a force of chaos resonated deeply with me. I remembered a time when I stood at the edge of a swimming pool, hesitant to dive in. The water beckoned with its cool promise of escape and clarity, yet the fear of submersion held me back. Watching the sisters navigate their own emotional waters, I saw reflections of my own struggles with vulnerability—sometimes yearning to plunge, sometimes hesitating at the brink.
Swimmers also made me think about the importance of resilience. The characters’ perseverance reminded me of a personal challenge I faced during periods of emotional upheaval. Like them, I learned that sometimes the only way forward is to keep swimming, even when the currents pull strongly against you. The film’s subtle yet powerful depiction of endurance felt like a gentle but firm reminder that growth often happens in the depths, not on the surface.
What truly holds the family together beyond shared dreams and mutual support—is the strength of the father, whose role as a coach extends far beyond the pool. His continuous dedication to his daughters is a backbone for their support. He trains them not just in swimming but in discipline and perseverance, often pushing them to their limits while providing a stable presence amid chaos. His coaching sessions are filled with lessons glances, nods, and a firm handshake that communicate far more than words ever could.
Likewise, the mother’s sacrifices and hope knit the family closer. Her affections often expressed through small acts of care—cooking, listening, holding back her fears creates an environment where the daughters can dream and grow despite the upheavals. Together, they form an unbreakable web that sustains the family, even when words fail or circumstances threaten to unravel everything, supporting the daughters with sufficient funds to pursue their dream.
Watching Swimmers made me realize how migration and seeking refuge are often s—filled with moments of hope, fear, and a real pain that rarely make the headlines. The film’s portrayal of their perseverance resonated with me, as it highlighted the profound emotional toll of displacement and the courage required to rebuild a life from scratch. It also reminded me of the many stories I’ve encountered since I migrated to Britain for my studies, leaving my homeland behind for a lifetime change of experiences—those of individuals who, despite immense adversity, carry on with dignity and hope. Swimmers left me with a heightened awareness of the resilience that of eachrefugee’s journey and the importance of recognizing the authenticity that sustain them not only through their most turbulent waters but also through the most fascinating portrayal of family, love, ambitions and opportunities.
What I appreciate most about Swimmers is its refusal to spoon-feed the audience. It’s a puzzle, a meditation on what lies beneath.
The film primarily reminded me of my own struggles during a difficult transition in my life. I remember late nights spent staring at the ceiling, feeling overwhelmed but knowing I had to keep swimming, keep moving forward. The film’s gentle yet powerful tone reinforced that perseverance often emerges from the depths, not the surface.
One significant moment etched into my memory was during a summer camping trip with friends. We were sitting around a campfire, sharing stories, when I suddenly felt overwhelmed by a wave of nostalgia. I remembered a childhood summer, when I would swim in my grandmother’s pool for hours, feeling invincible in the water. I would leap from the diving board, feeling like I could conquer anything. That freedom, that innocence, seemed like a distant memory now. Watching the film’s portrayal of sisterhood and resilience made me realize how those childhood moments—those fearless dives into the unknown—continue to shape us, even as we grow older and more cautious.
The Swimmers like the best swims, leaves you both exhausted and invigorated, eager to dive back into the depths once more.
This film also highlights the complexities of the refugee experience—how displacement disrupts identities, fractures familial bonds, and forces individuals to adapt to unfamiliar environments while carrying the weight of their past. The sisters’ journey from Syria to Brazil is not just a physical migration but an emotional upheaval, marked by loss, uncertainty, and resilience. Their perseverance reflects the hardships many refugees face daily, navigating new cultural landscapes while grappling with memories of home and trauma. It’s the political decisions that create the refugees and drive them forward with loads of ambition. Swimmers thus becomes a powerful metaphor for the constant flux that propel refugees forward, driven by hope and the instinct to survive against all odds.
The film underscores the importance of kinship and community in the refugee journey. The sisters’ bond sustains through their turbulent voyage. Their relationship exemplifies how connection—whether in shared glances, or small acts of care—serves as an anchor amid chaos. For many refugees, these bonds are vital for emotional survival, providing a sense of continuity and grounding in unfamiliar, often hostile environments. Swimmers offers a poignant reminder that resilience is not only an individual act but also a collective one—fostered through relationships, shared histories, and certain commitments to endure.
This film isn’t just a story on screen; it’s an exploration. I found a mirror to my own inner tides and a reminder that sometimes, the greatest clarity comes when you finally let yourself sink beneath the waves.
