Her Private Hell

 kritika objavljena u dodatku Objektiv dnevnog lista Pobjeda

U dva ključna momenta filma Her Private Hell Nikolasa Vindinga Refna pominje se određeni film. Prvi put pri početku, kada protagonistkinja kaže da će taj film biti pakao, i drugi put negde na dve trećine kada se kaže da nas taj film neće spasiti. Film u filmu, kao i strip na kojem je baziran, tek su ovlaš, i uz impoznantno odsustvo ikakvog smisla i koherentnosti, utkani u tkivo Refnovog povratka bioskopskom filmu nakon decenije odsustva provedenog na serijama za Amazon i Netfliks (Too Old to Die Young, Coppenhagen Cowboy, The Famous Five), u kratkom metru i na video-formatima. Ne možemo, doduše, reći da nas Refn nije upozorio...

Zaplet je toliko meandrirajući i ovlaš povezan, pa da prebrinemo prvo to. U neimenovanom metropolisu iz budućnosti (gde je tehnologija ostala na našem sadašnjem nivou, samo uz upadljivu stilizaciju), misteriozna magla, ponekad siva, ponekad plavkasta, a ponekad ružičasta, prekrila je ulice i na površinu izvela demona iz podzemlja, Ledermena (Jason Hendil-Forsel) koji otima i/ili ubija žene, a naročito zabludele kćeri. Njega zbog toga juri američki (okupacioni) vojnik redov Kej (Čarls Melton kao kopija Rajana Goslinga).

Istovremeno, čini se da El (Sofi Tačer) živi sigurno i bezbrižno kao kći gangstera Džonija Tandersa (Dagrej Skot, savršeno u tipu B-filmskog zlikovca). Njena najveća briga je da joj otac ne preotme prijateljice/devojke, kao što je to prethodno učinio s Dominik (Havana Rouz Liu). Sada se na njegovom udaru može naći i najnovija „pokupljena“ cura Hanter (Kristine Froset, prilično u tipu mlade El Fening).

Kada El vidi Ledermena u akciji, a otac iznenađujuće nestane iz priče baš pred njen rođendan prethodno joj poklonivši zlatnu sekiru kao oružje za ubijanje demona, postaje joj jasno da mora da preduzme nešto. Istraga je vodi preko dve misteriozne Azijatkinje koje deluju kao androidi ili lutke, kao i očevog zakletog neprijatelja i konkurenta Nika (Diego Kalva). U međuvremenu, Kej je takođe na putu potrage za Ledermenom na kojem se sukobljava s lokalnim jakuzama (stilski, svet filma je oblikovan u stilu Japana neposredno nakon Drugog svetskog rata) i policijom. Dve glavne linije radnje će se sresti u konačnom obračunu.

Ovako prepričano sve deluje relativno koherentno, ali za to bi se trebalo zahvaliti vašem vernom filmskom kritičaru koji je uložio izuzetni mentalni napor da to sve sabere i sažme. Naime, scenario koji potpisuju Refn i ikona kvir- i trans-aktivizma Esti Đordani nema ni trunku ambicija u tom smeru. Naprotiv, gubi se u mnoštvu skretanja, besmislenih dijaloga koji zvuče kao drogirano baljezganje, motiva koje je moguće, ali nije obavezno učitati, pa čak i doslovno lajanja u jednoj sceni.

Opet, iskreni da budemo, Refn ne važi za autora od smisla i logike, već od instinkta i visceralne reakcije. Samo je na početku karijere shvatao da narativna koherencija ipak drži film da se ne raspadne (trilogija Pusher, Bleeder). Nakon neuspelog kockanja s američkim prvencem Fear X, te povratka na siguran teren s nastavcima Pushera, Refn je, čini se pogodio formulu koliko izrečenog, a koliko izostavljenog treba biti u tekstu da bi gledaočeva emocionalna reakcija dostigla maksimum s filmovima Bronson i Valhalla Rising.

Nakon toga usledio je pad, možda upravo zbog toga što je Refn utripovao da je Autor (s velikim A). Drive se još nekako držao, najviše zbog sirove snage Hilovog originala The Driver, scenarija Hoseina Aminija koji se tek pred kraj raspada i delimično zbog šljašteće stilizacije, ali su elipse i prodor prljavštine iz akcionih trilera drugog tipa ipak uzele svoj danak. Još neona, elipsi, psihoanalitičkog lupetanja i paušalnih ocena o prirodi Istoka i Zapada nauštrb smislene priče udavili su Only God Forgives, dok mu je hororična satira Holivuda, The Neon Demon, samo prilepila etiketu „style over substance“ autora koji jedino zna da film učini vizuelno atraktivnim, dok se u pričanju priče samo i isključivo oslanja na druge, starije i bolje koje obilato citira.

Zapravo, igra lova na reference je jedina stvar koja gledaoca može spasiti od toga da zaspi od muke gledajući ovo baljezganje, proseravanje i besomučno rokanje vizuelnim senzacijama (okej, okej, Refn ima problema da vidi boje, pa pojačava intenzitet). Opa, vidi, hodnik kao mešavina Kjubrika i Džona Vika. Evo sad malo Šredra – ovo je iz The Yakuza, a ono iz Hardcore. Kostimi kao u Barbarelli. Tarantino i Kill Bill, može. Hodorovski, Linč i Gaspar Noe, to smo već radili, može, daj sve đuture. De Palma i njegov voajerizam. Majstori „đala“, Arđento i Bava, uvek i svugde, a naročito kroz muziku Pina Donađa koju se baš-baš forsira, i to klasični deo „skora“, iako onaj sintisajzerski i elektronski funkcionišu mnogo bolje. Karpenter i naročito majstor balansiranja između B-filma i čistog treša, Lari Koen. Verhoven, što da ne. Kako da zaboravimo silne adaptacije Stivena Kinga, daj i toga malo.

A kad smo kod toga, kako da zaboravimo da postoji već film s istim naslovom. U pitanju je britanski „seksploatacijski“ uradak iz 1968. koji je potpisao Norman Dž. Voren, sam po sebi mešavina drame, romanse, trilera i nešto mekšeg pornića. Zašto Refn onda ne bi zadržao elemente toga, recimo nebulozni dijalog i „pornićarsku“ glumu, samo bez nagrade u vidu seksa.

Samo, štos je što su sve to neki drugi uradili em bolje, em smislenije i filtriranije, em manje pretenciozno, a zapravo jednako upadljvo i efektno. Piter Striklend, na primer. Ili pogotovo Elen Katet i Bruno Forcani. Na kraju smo došli do toga da oni koji se oslanjaju na Refna ili ga čak citiraju, to čine na smisleniji, umereniji i pametniji način nego što bi to sam Refn uradio.

Her Private Hell bi se najbolje moglo opisati kao Refnov i tipično „refnovski“ pokušaj da izvede ono što je Linču za dlaku pošlo za rukom u njegovom poslednjem dugometražnom kino-filmu Inland Empire (2006) – da se svi rastreseni komadići mozaika autorske psihe na kraju slože u apstraktnu, a ipak koliko-toliko celovitu sliku. Linč je nakon toga batalio kombinaciju dugog metra i kino-filma i bavio se nekim drugim stvarima i formatima, zapravo sve vreme eksperimentisao, ali s Refnom nismo i nećemo biti takve sreće. Refn, naime, priprema još barem dva dugometražna filma, od kojih je jedan rimejk Koenovog kultnog uratka Maniac Cop, a drugi opet neki gangsteraj (jakuza-usmerenja) s čudnim i uvrnutim likovima i verovatno „umočen“ u neon.

Jedino što je u situaciji u kojoj smo, gde se kritičari i filmski festivali, čak i najveći Kan, boje da „otkače“ samozvanog genija kako ne bi slučajno ispali glupi u društvu, pohvalno je činjenica da su studiji već u solidnoj meri okrenuli leđa Refnu i prisilili ga da radi za svoj groš. Istina, Neon je u priči i kao produkcijska kuća i kao distributer, Mubi takođe, ali i pored toga Refn dosta zavisi od tržišta. A ono je po pravilu dosta nemilosrdno prema ego-tripovima.

A Film a Week - The Crystal Planet / Kristalni planet

 previously published on Cineuropa

After the death of the only Yugoslav Oscar winner, Dušan Vukotić (1927-1998), who won his statuette for the animated short The Substitute (1961), it took Croatian filmmaker Arsen Anton Ostojić a decade to ask for and acquire the rights to film Vukotić’s unfinished feature-length animated project The Crystal Planet, for which the latter also wrote the story. It was a further decade or so before Ostojić actually started making the project come to life. The modern animated feature is now completed and ready to be presented to a worldwide audience. After its world premiere at the Zlín Film Festival, it was presented to the Croatian public at the Pula Film Festival, where it won the Special Golden Arena for its contribution to Croatian animation.

After her mother’s death in an accident, 11-year-old girl Rea reluctantly moves with her engineer father, Val, to the titular crystal planet in order to start a new life. The father is about to begin a new job as the right-hand man to the robot-factory owner and ruler of the planet, Governor Mordokan. The entrepreneur’s newest inventions are (still glitchy) robotic pets, as animals are forbidden on the planet. Elections are just around the corner, and Val’s efforts are needed to secure the governor’s victory against rival candidate Sandra, who campaigns on environmental issues.

All Rea wants is to go back to Earth, which she still calls home. But things begin to change when she meets and befriends her next-door neighbour, Sandra’s son Andy. On one of their first adventures, they encounter and save the cub of a local animal species and realise that the planet has its own ecosystem that is being endangered by the pollution created by Mordokan’s factory. They try to keep their find a secret, but the revelation threatens to rewrite all of the rules on the planet. Two single-parent families, with the help of the intelligent and empathetic species, must therefore fight the establishment.

The Crystal Planet is clearly aimed at younger audiences, so one shouldn’t expect any kind of nuance in delivering its environmentally conscious message. The heroes and villains simply wear their allegiances, and often their thoughts and inner turmoil, on their sleeves. The storytelling also suffers from some deus ex machina plot devices and twists, while mimicking the US style of children’s animation and even introducing a couple of songs as transitions between the acts. However, the script written by Ostojić, Aleksandar Žiljak and Brett Shumway redeems itself with some warm-hearted humour and a good helping of sincerity.

On the technical side, the combination of model-based animation and CGI serves its purpose perfectly well, as it is blended together smoothly, so the work of the team of animators should be commended. The same goes for Tomáš Sysel’s cinematography, which creates the sense of a well-rounded world while capturing the heroes in action and the rich background textures at the same time. Arsen Anton Ostojić’s sure-handed directing might come as a surprise for an animation first-timer (although he did co-produce one such title, The Oddsockeaters, back in 2016), and the editing by Lucie Haladová helps everything flow smoothly while keeping the running time around the 90-minute mark.

The Crystal Planet is a very ambitious film. The existence of dubbed versions in several languages, including the worldwide one in English (voiced by, among others, Jeremy Irons, Vanessa Redgrave and Michael York), could help the movie cross several borders. In the context of Croatian cinema, it is a valuable addition to the recently revived tradition of feature-length animation for younger audiences.

A Film a Week - Small Things / Male stvari

 previously published on Cineuropa

Although Zvonimir Jurić’s body of work is not particularly large for a career spanning more than 30 years, with only three feature-length films helmed solely by him and six more made in collaboration with other filmmakers, he is regarded as one of the finest and most respected Croatian auteurs. The reason for this might lie in the fact that he does not seek approval, but instead picks his projects carefully and sticks to a certain realist, naturalistic style when commenting on the reality of Croatia, whether addressing hooliganism (Sex, Drink and Bloodshed, 2004), war crimes from the 1990s (The Blacks), or the gloominess of village life during the transition period (The Reaper).

Now Jurić has a new film, Small Things, an adaptation of a short story by the Croatian film critic, journalist and prose writer Jurica Pavičić, that comments on the contemporary Croatian reality and the fading of the family ties due to hastened way of life, class stratification, money and personal troubles, as well as everyday hardships. The film has just premiered at Pula Film Festival.

The film takes place on a small island not far from the coastal town of Split, where three generations of an ordinary working-class family gather to finalise the deal regarding the sale of the land for a future investment project and the division of the money. The father (thespian Izudin Bajrović, in a quiet and folksy mood) is old and ailing, but, as a man of few words, he does not complain and instead tries to keep the family together. His daughter Irena (Ivana Roščić) is a recently separated sad-sack who has also brought her two children, Kate and Ivor (played by newcomers Bepina Baričeveić and Borna Mihovilović, respectively), who keep arguing and fighting. The other daughter, Anica (Marija Škaričić), also tries to carry out her father’s balancing act, but she is not ready to move on from a recent loss in her life. The son Ivan (played by actor and filmmaker Juraj Lerotić, behind the international success Safe Place) is depressed and, the family fears, potentially suicidal. The atmosphere is gloomy, and some unspoken things and resentments begin to surface over the course of a few grey winter days…

The script written by Jurić and Pavičić displays some dramaturgical excellence, both in the completely natural-sounding dialogue and in the timing of seemingly small but significant revelations, as well as much-needed moments of relief from the overwhelming gloominess. It also serves the actors perfectly, allowing them to deliver their lived-in, low-key bravura performances. The cast, consisting of Croatian A-listers, seizes this opportunity, whether in the lead roles or in the episodic parts, as is the case with Snježana Sinovčič Šiškov in the role of the neighbour.

Unlike some of his previous films, which were marked by dynamic camerawork, Jurić here opts almost exclusively for long, carefully framed static shots lensed by Marko Brdar that highlight the staleness of life, whether the reason for that staleness is old age, personal crisis, depression or simply the weather. The atmosphere is further emphasised by the absence of music, the sound design by Julij Zornik and Ognjen Popić, which is full of howling wind, and some dim lighting firmly glued to Ana Štulina’s precise editing. It all makes Small Things feel like a discreetly unpleasant, but quite necessary and highly emotional viewing experience.

Lista - Jul 2026.

 

Ukupno pogledano: 26 (25 dugometražnih, 1 kratki)

Prvi put pogledano: 26 (25 dugometražnih, 1 kratki)

Najbolji utisak (prvi put pogledano): 3 Weeks After / 3 nedelje posle

Najlošiji utisak: Little Brother

*ponovno gledanje

**kratkometražni 

***srednjemetražni

kritike objavljene na webu su aktivni linkovi

datum izvor English Title / Originalni naslov (Reditelj, godina) - ocena/10

02.07. video Little Brother (Matt Spicer, 2026) - 3/10
**02.07. kino Every Sound a Jewel / Muusikajanu (Jaan Tootsen, 2018) - 7/10
07.07. festival A Whole Person Almost / Enas olokliros anthropos schedon (Efthimis Kosemund Sanidis, 2026) - 6/10
08.07. festival Paris Paris (Isabelle Tollenaere, 2026) - 6/10
08.07. festival City of Fathers / Mesto otcu (Zdenek Tyc, 2026) - 6/10
08.07. festival Colony / Gunche (Yeon Sang-ho, 2026) - 6/10
09.07. festival Everybody Digs Bill Evans (Grant Gee, 2026) - 8/10
09.07. festival Truck Driver / Camionero (Francisco Marise, 2026) - 5/10
09.07. festival A Report for Minerva 2 / Zpráva pro Minervu 2 (Miroslav Krobot, Lubomír Smékal, 2026) - 5/10
10.07. festival 3 Weeks After/ 3 nedelje posle (Miroslav Terzić, 2026) - 9/10
13.07. festival How to Divorce During the War /Skyrybos karo metu (Andrius Blaževičius, 2026) - 7/10
14.07. festival Petty Thieves / Sitni lopovi (Mate Ugrin, 2026) - 7/10
14.07. festival Beautiful Evening, Beautiful Day / Lijepa večer, lijep dan (Ivona Juka, 2024) - 3/10
14.07. festival Skopje '63 (Veljko Bulajić, 1964) - 7/10
15.07. festival Small Things / Male stvari (Zvonimir Jurić, 2026) - 8/10
16.07. festival The Beloved / El ser querido (Rodrigo Sorogoyen, 2026) - 5/10
16.07. festival Family Movie (Kevin Bacon, Kyra Sedgewick, 2026) - 7/10
16.07. festival Coward (Lukas Dhont, 2026) - 4/10
16.07. festival Animol (Ashley Walters, 2026) - 5/10
20.07. festival The Crystal Planet / Kristalni planet (Arsen Anton Ostojić, 2026) - 7/10
21.07. festival Honey Bunny / Koke (Igor Jelinović, 2026) - 7/10
21.07. festival Mother (Teona Strugar Mitevska, 2025) - 6/10
21.07. festival The Sea / Ha'yam (Shai Carmeli-Pollak, 2025) - 6/10
23.07. festival Black Trumpet / Crna truba (Bojan Stijović, 2026) - 8/10
25.07. festival Dust (Anke Blondé, 2026) - 7/10
27.07. TV Crock of Gold: A Few Rounds with Shane McGowan (Julian Temple, 2020) - 7/10

Black Trumpet / Crna truba

 kritika objavljena u dodatku Objektiv dnevnog lista Pobjeda

Pre nekih dvanaest godina, u Finskoj se skupilo četvoro glumaca i jedan scenarista kako bi napravili film bez reditelja. Glumci su sami izabrali svoje likove (uz jedno ograničenje – jedna glumica je žarko želela da odigra bivšeg predsednika Kekonena, što ipak nije bilo ni moguće, ni suvislo, pa je scenarista tu „lupio rampu“), a scenarista Temu Kaskinen je sve to uobličio u relativno koherentnu priču. Njih petoro su zajedničkim snagama i režirali film, a kao autora bi valjalo potpisati i montažera Jusija Rautaniemija koji je od tih uglavnom improvizovanih snimaka složio nešto koherentno.

Ovako neobično snimljen film je uglavnom ostao duboko zakopana fusnota, ali je u našim krajevima zaigrao na Grosmanu u Sloveniji, u okviru specijalnog programa posvećenog nordijskim žanrovskim filmovima. Sama priča koja bi se najpre mogla opisati kao kamerna drama „lude kuće“ u kojoj dolazi do svađe, nasilja i crnohumornih ispada svakako nije bila nešto najoriginalnije na svetu ikada. Moglo se tu osetiti nešto braće Koen i braće Kaurismaki, kao i „filma svađe“, naročito tada još uvek svežeg naslova Carnage Romana Polanskog. Opet, autori su u samo 75 minuta trajanja uspeli da ubace i jedan prigodno kičerski „rautalanka“ (finski folk-rok) spot u integralnom trajanju, čime je film dodatno dobio na bizarnosti, dok je glavni „mekgafin“ i pokretač radnje bio – leš u prtljažniku automobila.

Dugometražni prvenac Bojana Stijovića, po scenariju Stefana Boškovića, takođe se prilično „vozi“ na istom žanrovskom standardu. Iako je autorski kontrolisaniji i „usidren“ nekim drugim referencama, literarnim i pop-kulturnim (gonzo-pristup Hantera S. Tompsona i derivacija istog kod Vlade Bulića na temu onog drugog Tompsona u Putovanju u srce hrvatskog sna), rezultat je u sličnoj meri nesvakidašnji, pa čak i bizaran. Slično bizaran je bio i početak festivalske turneje filma na festivalu u Biškeku (Kirgizija), dok je evropsku premijeru doživeo u regionalnoj konkurenciji Pule. Odlična je to potvrda za malu crnogorsku kinematografiju da ne igra na sigurno, ne kreće se utabanim stazama i ne boji se rizika s mladim, osebujnim autorima.

Junak i nepouzdani narator filma je Maksim Grahovac (Momčilo Otašević), proslavljeni crnogorski pisac koji živi u Zagrebu. Priznanje o nepouzdanosti, odnosno o mešanju stvarnog sveta s unutrašnjim, biće i prva replika izgovorena u filmu. Ispostavlja se da je ta naracija zapravo deo Maksimovog televizijskog gostovanja i intervjua povodom novog romana.

Bilo kako bilo, nepouzdani Maksim dobije poziv od svoje snahe Jelene (Milica Janevski) da treba da dođe u nazad u rodno Grahovo kako bi potpisao papire o prodaji dela imanja, a kako bi se Jelena i Maksimov brat Niko (Marko Janketić) sa svojim sinom Petrom (Strahinja Bubanja) odselili negde „u civilizaciju“, a na livadama koje su deo očevine nikao spa-centar. Na putu do rodne kuće Maksimu se zapreči blokada ceste, pa on skrene na uski planinski drum po kojem zaluta. Da stvar bude gora, čoveka koji mu je pomogao da se na drumu okrene udari autom i baci s litice, uspaniči se i pobegne s mesta nesreće, odnosno zločina.

U kuću dolazi već mentalno načet, a ni atmosfera tamo nije baš fantastična. Petar ne govori zbog neke vrste blokade. Ne govori puno ni Niko, ali to je već stvar izbora, a nama ostaje da se pitamo da li možda o nečemu razmišlja, podgreva zameranje prema bratu ili prema supruzi, ili, pak, samo pušta da ga život nosi. Čini se da je Jelena mozak operacije, možda svojom voljom, možda silom prilika. Kako je familija ipak familija, tako Maksim prizna bratu šta je zeznuo, a Niko nevoljno pristane da mu pomogne.

Njih dvojica će se, međutim, naći u grotlu jedne druge, malo veće kolombocije, ili možda čak i seoske zavere. Naime, predsednik opštine Branko (Srđan Grahovac) upinje se da lokalnu osnovnu školu preimenuje po „najvećem život crnogorskom piscu“ koji je baš iz tog kraja, dok uticajni klan iz susednog sela to ne da jer se škola zove po njihovom pretku i narodnom heroju. U zaveru je možda uključen i ministar kulture (scenarista Bošković u kameo-roli), a to što rakija teče u potocima situaciju ne čini ništa manje nezgodnom, kao ni činjenica da svi čekaju mesara Draga koji je otišao da bere pečurke i još se nije vratio da zakolje tele za na ražanj.

Grahovo nije slučajno izabrano. S jedne strane, bar deo autorske ekipe vuče poreklo odatle. S druge, pak, Grahovo je jedan od toponima esencijalnih za crnogorski identitet, bilo iz istorijskih razloga (čuvena bitka u kojoj je knez Danilo potukao Turke), bilo iz onih mitoloških i epskih kojima se utvrđuje značaj čojstva i junaštva, i preko njih – plemenski poredak i patrijarhat. To epsko Grahovo iz nekih prošlih vekova (uključujući i XX i partizane) ne samo da nemaju nužno veze sa ovim savremenim, već stoje u tolikom raskoraku da ono može da figurira jedino kao neka karikatura ili „kosplej“ onog starog. Zbog toga je sličnost s Bulićevim romanom toliko očita da se Maksimovo putovanje može čitati kao putovanje u srce crnogorskog sna u kojem se odvija neka košmarna homoerotična orgija zalivena rakijom.

Crna truba, dakle, savršeno funkcioniše kao kritika savremene muškosti i istrajnog patrijarhata koji ona održava, makar u formi fasade. Pritom, osim fasade je malo toga ostalo, budući da su muškarci kao pasivni Niko, ljigavo-uštogljeni Branko, pa čak i Maksim koji je od tog mentaliteta pokušao da pobegne, uglavnom beskorisni, u svađi sa samima sobom i okruženjem oko sebe. Možda je jedini pošten među njima poludeli Goro (Jovan Petričević) koji živi na osami, retko kad čita, ali priznaje da mu je gotovo slučajni pasus iz nekog ranijeg Maksimovog romana spasio život jer je u njemu video nešto što ga je odgovorilo od nameravanog samoubistva.

Glavni uspeh koji Bošković i Stijović postižu taj da je ta kritika, ma kako oštra bila, krajnje utemeljena i elokventno argumentovana, bez gledanja s visine. Autori, naime, taj svet jako dobro, ili čak bolno poznaju. Način na koji to postižu je da je apsolutno sve u filmu autentično i s lica mesta. Ništa, naime, nije doneto za potrebe filma da funkcioniše kao još jedan komad „divljačke“ egzotike na inače elaboriranom setu. Nema laži, nema prevare, to sve stvarno tako izgleda. (Istini za volju, rakiju su morali da zamene vodom jer Momčilo Otašević, Milica Janevski i Marko Janketić drugačije ne bi preživeli snimanje filma ako bi scene konzumacije alkohola imale po više dublova, a imale su.)

Autentični i s lica mesta su i glumci u sporednim i epizodnim ulogama meštana. S njima se radilo po principu usmeravane improvizacije u kojoj oni svi deluju potpuno prirodno i ležerno, bez trunke foliranja i glumatanja. Troje profesionalaca, pak, imaju dovoljno izgrađene likove i odnose među njima da bi s njima mogli da rade i da ih dodatno nadograđuju. Milica Janevski je uverljiva kao čvrsta žena koja drži celu kuću, Marko Janketić je enigmatičan kao Niko za kojeg nam nikad nije do kraja jasno šta mu se vrzma po glavi, ako išta uopšte. A Momčilo Otašević ima onu prirodnu „lidersku“ harizmu glumca za velike i glavne uloge, što je do sada najčešće potvrđivao u manje ozbiljnim najčešće hrvatskim produkcijama kao što su Šalša i Po tamburi.

U svojoj režiji, Stijović se služi filmofilskim iskustvom vezanim za žanrovsku kinematografiju dok istovremeno traži svoj žanrovski jezik u okvirima produkcijskih mogućnosti koja su daleko od neograničenih. U tome mu fotografija Dušana Grubina u kojoj se kombinuje iskreni interes za ljude i prirodu s pogledom sa strane, opservantnošću i profesionalizmom dosta pomaže. Krajnji rezultat je neobičan, čudan, bizaran, zapanjujući, „istripovan“ film koji glatko teče, okupira pažnju i angažuje gledaoca da razmišlja na nekoliko paralelnih koloseka.

A Film a Week - Truck Driver / Camionero

 previously published on Cineuropa

Roads resemble the blood vessels of the physical world. Most of the things we need, use and accumulate reach us by road, at least in part. Roads also take us places, provide us with adventures and show us the world. There is a whole genre of cinema dedicated solely to roads, travel and all the things that can happen along the way. But is a road movie even imaginable without relying on the road itself, and driving, as its main action? Francisco Marise certainly tries to do just that with his docu-fiction hybrid Truck Driver, which has just premiered in Karlovy Vary's Proxima competition.

As the Estonian composer Arvo Pärt famously said, music consists not only of tones, but also of pauses. The same could, in theory, be applied to Marise's approach to roads, driving and travel: motion is the tone, while stillness is the pause. In practice, this means the filmmaker focuses on the quieter moments and the places truckers frequent when they aren't driving – places like truck stops, diners, motels, perhaps a mechanic's garage or a tyre shop, but also the inside of the cabins, where the drivers spend most of their free time, soothing themselves to sleep with videos watched on a phone screen, or speaking to the family members they miss.

The important thing here is that each motivation is individual, whether it stems from past trauma or present-day hardship. The same holds true for fate, with two possible outcomes: surrendering to fatigue, or pressing on because there is no other choice. Marise certainly tries to capture the fuller picture of truck drivers' lives on the road (specifically in Argentina) but also to highlight particular situations through vignettes.

The way the filmmaker sets his film apart from the bulk of similar work – usually shot in the register of observational documentary – is through a conscious decision to show the road as little as possible, using driving merely as a backdrop to the truckers' thoughts and musings on the everyday topics that occupy them. In the film's opening stretch, this decision seems to land like a bullseye: cinematographer Jorge Rojas shoots mostly single-take scenes, always from just the right angle, while the editing duo of the filmmaker and Mayra Morán stitches them together with long, soft crossfades that lend the film an almost experimental quality.

However, once the novelty of this approach wears off – around the one-third mark – the cracks begin to show. The trouble is that Marise aimed higher than he could actually reach, attempting to proverbially reinvent the wheel on a topic that, while possibly fascinating, is still fairly familiar, all while trying to capture a trucker's life from every conceivable angle. That may be why he settled on a vignette structure that cuts too shallow, with barely any connective tissue between segments, even as recurring "characters" reappear.

In the end, the structure is so loose it borders on non-existent, and the whole thing resembles an arbitrarily assembled mosaic of clichés. Truck Driver ends up as a missed opportunity, albeit with some nice touches here and there.

A Film a Week - A Report for Minerva 2 / Zpráva pro Minervu 2

 previously published on Cineuropa

What does a small provincial hotel need? Some staff and some guests. The more, the better – though their characters have to be balanced too. If the characters and types turn out too ordinary, they risk being boring; if they're too weird, they risk seeming outlandish. Of course, one can always spice things up with, say, ghosts haunting the grounds, or aliens paying a visit. And, voilà – here is the blueprint for a bulletproof hotel comedy.

Czech stage actors, directors and playwrights Miroslav Krobot and Lubomír Smékal did exactly that, and then some, for their A Report for Minerva 2 project. It began as a stage production by the amateur troupe Divadelní spolek 23, credited here as one of the producers, before morphing into a film that retained the entire cast from the original show. It premiered at the 60th Karlovy Vary International Film Festival, as one of the Special Screenings.

Of the two receptionists, one is grumpy because her acting career has ended, while the other is emotional, expecting to give birth any day. The Ukrainian cleaning lady is also grumpy and prone to lashing out at guests, burdened as she is by both work and prejudice. The house painter idles at work, musing on various topics. And one chambermaid keeps appearing, disappearing and teleporting, as though she'd wandered in from a different, more romantic time. A takeover by new management looms, and two "solid" gentlemen (played by the filmmakers themselves) appear – though they act rather strangely.

The guests can be pieces of work too. There's a health-obsessed bore with a touch of OCD, forever pestering his wife, fellow guests and the hotel staff about what's right and what's wrong. A virginal, nerdy loner tries to strike up conversations with women, as does a sex-obsessed slacker, though both chicken out at the crucial moment. A tourist from Slovakia finds herself discriminated against, made to wait for a room to clear despite having a reservation, while a clarinettist is chased from one place to another for "disturbing the guests," even though nobody has actually complained. A beautiful young woman draws the eyes of every man in the room, though all she wants is a sincere conversation. And, finally, there's an alien who must report back to his homeworld, Minerva 2, while still getting to grips with human ways, and the spirit of a Nokia 3310 ("an older model," she notes), lying on the floor in the corner, its battery slowly draining.

Yes, it sounds like an endearingly bizarre ordeal, and its lean 68-minute runtime seems appealing enough. On stage, it might well sustain a longer running time. On screen, though, the translation from one medium to the other is far from smooth. The amateur actors struggle with line delivery more than they would on stage, and the directing duo – of whom only Krobot has any prior filmmaking experience – throw every trick in the book at making the space and the interplay between actors and setting feel livelier and less theatrical, but without much consistency or method behind the individual craft choices. The biggest offender, though, may be the monologues: every character, human, spirit or alien, is given one to voice their inner thoughts, and while these might sit comfortably in a theatre, on screen they feel entirely artificial. In the end, A Report for Minerva 2 comes across as a sincere, honest, but not entirely successful effort; one likely to appeal mainly to existing fans of the stage show.