Celebrating the toxicity of the world
The “Perspectives” selection at the 35th Ljubljana Film Festival showcased ten distinct views of both the present and the past on the big screen. Cinema, as the seventh art, utilizes a range of audio-visual resources, enhanced by the director’s imagination, to engage with contemporary issues often grounded in historical context. In this analysis, I will examine two films from vastly different European cinemas to synthesize the connections between the present and the past, as well as the future and the past. The title I have chosen reflects a concerning aspect of our reality—both real and as depicted on screen.
Toxic (Akipleša) marks the debut feature film of Lithuanian director Saule Bliuvaiņa, who previously gained recognition with several award-winning short films. In her first feature, she explores her authorial voice and the themes that resonate with her: the lost youth of new generations. She delves into questions about the future that young Lithuanians envision for themselves. What aspirations do they hold after leaving their hometowns, which often feel stagnant? How do they confront the boredom that threatens to mirror their lost parents’ realities?
Using a “sharp” cinematic language that spares no one, Bliuvaite and cinematographer Vytautas Katkus depict the reality of an EU member state in striking colors, as if the viewer were wearing “rose-colored” glasses. They deliberately play with a dominant blue color, creating a contrast against the gray reality filled with decaying architecture, non-existent streets, and a thoroughly devastated infrastructure. This visual language transports us into the illusion of an “escape from home” into an open world that appears better, different, and more colorful.
The film has an intense internal rhythm that constantly pushes the viewer into new areas, leaving little room to breathe. The experiments undertaken by the two main protagonists, 13-year-old Marija (played by Vesta Matulyte) and Kristina (played by Ieva Rupeikaite), are not for the faint of heart. Yet, it is precisely this confrontation with the hopelessness faced by new generations in our chaotic world that makes Toxic convincing and provocative enough for the European Film Academy to rightfully include it as a finalist for this year’s “Best Debut Film” award.
“Through the story of young girls navigating toxic landscapes, I wanted to explore the concept of the human body: the body as a project, a currency, an object of desire, and a source of pain and magic,” says screenwriter and director Saule Bliuvaite. This statement perfectly captures another significant aspect of the film, leaving open the question: “Is pushing oneself to toxic, physical extremes really the ticket to a better future?”
The present and the future are always shaped by the events of the past. I find great pleasure in watching films that effectively capture the spirit of their times. In an era when right-wing movements are on the rise in Europe and around the world, the film Celebration (Proslava), directed by Croatian filmmaker Bruno Anković, explores the determination of history and the notion of “evil” that is defined and shaped by the victors.
This film is an adaptation of Damir Karakaš’s novel of the same name, set in a dilapidated mountain village in rural Croatia. The villagers are pure, innocent, and somewhat naive, grappling with existential dilemmas that would challenge even the likes of Jean-Paul Sartre, Albert Camus, and Franz Kafka combined. The events unfolding in the outside world seem like a distant echo to them until they gain significance when a city representative arrives with alarming news: henceforth, no one is allowed to keep a dog because the city’s chief gendarme has been bitten.
The narrative, spanning from 1926 to 1945, is intricately structured, oscillating between the past and the present at critical moments to clarify the cause-and-effect relationships at the heart of the story. The main message conveyed by the director of Celebration is that “politics and regimes change, but people remain people.” This highlights the idea that regardless of how secluded one may feel in the embrace of majestic mountains, we are all living beings and, consequently, political beings who cannot escape the laws of the Earth. Unfortunately, in the socio-political environment we find ourselves in today, it is evident that humanity has not progressed much beyond initial concepts that may seem idealistic and captivating in theory, but reveal numerous imperfections and inconsistencies in practice.
In such conditions, can love truly save the world? It may be naive to believe so, yet Mijo (Bernard Tomić), despite his ignorance and his choice to stand on the wrong side of history, maintains his faith in humanity, especially in his love for Drenka (Klara Fiolić). Even though liberation is imminent and the war is on the verge of ending, Mijo feels unable to step outside the threshold of his home. Is there anything more important than one’s own home? But what does “home” really mean? Is it the house where you were born and spent your childhood and youth, or is it the shared state that you must build with your fellow citizens?
Both Lithuanian director Bliuvaite and Croatian director Anković explore similar themes in their films, despite addressing entirely different contexts and perspectives. This is the beauty of film art: It offers us avenues for reflection that we may not even be aware of, awakening our curiosity to observe and cherish the world throughout our lives, much like the child who resides within us.
Igor Angjelkov
Edited by Robert Horton
© FIPRESCI 2024