I expected worthy black-and-white social realism and got something thornier and far more tightly wound than I bargained for.
Dry Summer earns its title fair and square — the village is parched, the water rights are contested, and the morals aren't looking too healthy either. Once the dam goes up, the tension is real, even if I could usually see the next beat coming a mile off. It plays like a countdown rather than a mystery, and I mean that as a compliment.
The photography is the real star — those wide shots of cracked earth and dammed stream look painterly enough to frame. Osman is magnetic and faintly unhinged, though a couple of the supporting turns feel pitched for a theatre balcony rather than a camera.
Fans of Jean de Florette will clock the DNA — water, greed, land, a slow unravelling — and for my money this one got there first, and meaner.
It's predictable almost to a fault, but I got under its spell anyway.