At the 25th edition of the European Cinema in Lecce there is a theme that unites several films: that of the woman: alone, in crisis, but strong.
Several films seen at the 25th edition of the European Film Festival in Lecce (9-16 November, conceived and directed by Alberto La Monica) have a common theme that ideally unites them all: that of the 21st century woman. A woman alone, in crisis, at risk of psychological drowning, but capable of rising to the surface, changing her life, returning to living a normal life.
In the Serbian film Mother Mara (Majka Mara), Mara (Mirjana Karanovic, director and protagonist) is a mother, who is left alone, and must mourn the sudden loss of a “model” son, Nemanja, who had left Belgrade for university life in London. He died from a cocaine-induced breakdown. Mara clings to the memories of his best friend, Milan, to discover a son she didn’t know, with whom she spoke little, taken by her work as a female executive. She becomes Milan’s lover, putting into action a sort of transference with the illusion to get to know through—Milan—the Nemanja who lived outside of family life, the one whom she has never really known. A relationship destined to end, because it is impossible: Mara understands that she must go on alone and overcome her sense of guilt. Karanovic gives us back the drama interior of a suffering mother through the fixed camera (the funeral scene, almost Bergmanesque ) and through intense close-ups of a suffering woman.
Ebba (an excellent Camilla Godø Krohn with a stony expression), a minor who imprisons, in a friends’ house she has to take care of during the summer holidays, a Bulgarian immigrant, Julian, whom she saved from the street. Julian is a boy who has lost his memory. This is the plot of My Wonderful Stranger (Min fantastiske fremmede, directed by the Norwegian Johanna Pyykkö). The final scene, of the two boys swimming in the lake, with Ebba drowning Julian, saying “You are too beautiful, I can’t let you live,” is a beautiful montage of two different but almost identical lakes, with similar actions (Ebba filmed while swimming after drowning Julian). The viewer does not know if the event they witnessed is real or if it is just a mental projection of a schizophrenic girl, marked by bullying since childhood, “I was teased by my classmates,” says Ebba. Pyykkö adopts a mobile direction: steadicam in the interiors as if to suffocate Julian, the prisoner, and wide total shots in the exteriors to underline the desire for a fantastic escape: prison and freedom.
A woman, Emma, oppressed and raped by her husband “for love”, takes refuge in a family home (“refuge”): the strong Belgian-Luxembourg film Breathing underwater, (Hors d’Haleine) directed by Eric Lamhène. Emma (Carla Juri: a face that knows how to suffer and smile without forcing it), frees herself from psychological and physical persecution thanks to other young women victims of violence, but also thanks to the presence of children in the family home. Lahmen’s direction knows how to get close to the suffering faces of women who are alone and raped by chauvinist men, but understands when the female character needs a certain privacy for which the camera moves back at least a meter.
The French film Jim’s Story (Le roman de Jim, which won the Audience Award and SNCCI Award) by Arnauld and Jeanne –Marie Larrieu is a surreal and sparkling comedy with Dadaist elements. The hyperactive Florence (Laetitia Dosch : a telluric acting) is always looking for the ideal man, but she remains alone, with a fatherless child in her womb. She can’t even love the good Aymeric (a lyrical Karim Leklou) who offers his paternity for the unborn child: the child will be called Jim. Florence tries to organize a family that seems to work: Aymeric becomes very fond of little Jim (Eole Persona) but then decides to go and “try life in Canada”. She cuts ties with Aymeric and takes Jim with her. In her immaturity she thinks of giving another father to little Jim , telling him that Aymeric does not want to see him anymore. Jim, now an adult (Andranic Manet), hates his father but then, returning to France and meeting Aymeric, understands that his father has always loved him and waited for him. Florence, although late, has decided to heal from her childish egocentrism. Arnauld and Jeanne-Marie Larrieu weave a psychological comedy, light but profound, with rhythms and twists à la Emir Kusturica.
In the Portuguese film Clear Nights (Noitas Claras) by Paulo Felipe Monteiro we follow, in alternating editing, two families. On one side the crisis of a young mother Lidia ( Beatriz Godinho: skilled in switching from happiness to depression and vice versa) after giving birth (“I feel fat and ugly”) and, on the other hand, the existential dilemmas of the young divorcee Lauro (Lidia’s brother: a dazed Romeu Ruma ), with a seven-year-old son, who must accept his homosexuality, repressed for years. Clear Nights deals with delicate and everyday themes, with some happily surreal images and scenographic compositions (the work of the protagonist in the morgue – who combs the corpses – vaguely recalls The Cremator from 1969, by Juraj Heart). Lidia’s character is credible because she has to deal with the psychological crisis of the postpartum period, very common in our consumerist society that asks women to always be beautiful, slim and sexually attractive.
In the philosophical Three Days of Fish (Peter Hoogendoorn), winner of the FIPRESCI prize, we only have a secondary part for a female character, Bianca (Lina Pillet), the girlfriend of co-star Dick (Guido Pollemans). Yet Bianca, with her simple presence next to Dick, a man in an existential crisis in his relationship with his old father Gerrie (Ton Kas, with an impassive face), brings security and completeness to Dick’s life. Lina Pillet , despite having few scenes and lines (for example the lunch scene in which Dick introduces her to Gerrie), shows remarkable skill in acting without exaggerating facial expressions and tones.
Eusebio Ciccotti
Edited by Savina Petkova
© FIPRESCI 2024