A Film a Week - Alpha.

 previously published on Cineuropa

There is nothing that can derail a person from the safe, straight tracks of a carefully built, ordinary life like the sudden arrival of a family member. Parents can press the buttons of their adult children in the worst possible ways. Even distance, whether physical or psychological, does not make things any easier: children are programmed to be triggered by their folks. This is the case with the fourth film written and directed by Jan-Willem van Ewijk, Alpha., which has just premiered in the Giornate degli Autori sidebar of Venice.

Rein (Reinout Scholten van Aschat, from 2011’s The Heineken Kidnapping) is a Dutchman who has moved to the Alps, where he works as a snowboarding instructor and spends his free time mostly meditating. The idyll of his existence is about to be shattered when his recently widowed father, Gijs (legend of Dutch film, TV and stage Gijs Scholten van Aschat), first calls to announce his visit and then appears in front of the building where Rein lives. Make no mistake, Gijs is not a harmless, jovial Toni Erdmann-esque old man, but a former star actor who seeks dominance over his son and knows exactly how to push his buttons.

The game of push-and-pull between the two is probably fuelled by jealousy and unresolved conflicts from the past, and they certainly have form in this regard. Gijs seeks and gets the attention of Rein’s friends, even his sort-of girlfriend Laura (Pia Amofa), prompting Rein to pull daredevil stunts or to try to teach his father a lesson by competing with him on his home turf – the snow. However, those in-house power games can prove to be dangerous, since one can overestimate one’s own strength, and the mountain itself can be treacherous…

The filmmaker certainly knows what he is trying to communicate and has the means at his disposal to do so eloquently. Even the 4:3 aspect ratio, which has become a bit of a gimmick recently, makes sense here: the boxiness of the picture is a reflection of the protagonist’s boxed-in state of mind, meaning the beautiful and ominous peaks with which the filmmaker opens and closes the film become secondary. Van Ewijk also uses Douwe Hennink’s cinematography deftly to portray the relationship of the central father-son duo and the changes in it without unnecessary explanations first by establishing, and then by shortening the distance, and the same goes for the use of Ella van der Woude’s score, from the drone on wind instruments to the silly, fairground-like organ theme and back.

However, the canniest trick he pulls is the casting of the real-life father and son, who have different sensibilities. It does not just open up a meta level for connoisseurs of the Dutch acting scene to enjoy, looking for “Easter eggs”, but it also paves the way for improvisation based on genuine triggering and authentic reactions that cannot be scripted easily. Needless to say, both Reinout and Gijs van Aschat relish the opportunity for this interplay and make the best of it, although in a non-flashy manner.

Alpha. is not without its faults, especially regarding the development and the timing of the plot twists, but it is definitely worth seeing for the director’s, the actors’ and the crew’s commendable work. It is one of those seemingly small movies to which wider audiences might relate.

A Film a Week - Bekim Fehmiu

 previously published on Cineuropa

Bekim Fehmiu was one of the finest Yugoslav actors of all time and the first one from Kosovo to surpass the language barrier and play in theatres all across the former country. He was also the first and one of the rare Yugoslav actors to have, at least at one point in his career, a shot at stardom both in European art house cinema and in Hollywood. He was also a man of principle who decided when, why and how to end both his career and his life. 

His life and career stand in the centre of Valmir Tertini’s documentary, which was also the filmmaker’s debut in the feature-length format. After five years in production, a premiere in Albania last year, and a tour of regional festivals, Bekim Fehmiu screened in the documentary section but out of competition at the 30th Sarajevo Film Festival.

Bekim Fehmiu is a typical biographical documentary in which the interested audience might learn the facts of its subject's early life (Fehmiu was born in Sarajevo, spent his early childhood in Skhodër, Albania, before his family settled in Prizren, Kosovo), his first acting steps (in Pristina's County Popular Theatre), his acting studies in Belgrade, his marriage with his colleague Branka Petrić and his national and international career in cinema, from his breakout roles as Beli Bora in Aleksandar Petrović’s I Even Met Happy Gypsies (1967), Odysseus in Franco Rossi’s mini-series The Odyssey and Dax Xenos in Lewis Gilbert’s The Adventurers (1970) onwards. We also get to learn about the status of the national cultural hero and the window to the world that Fehmiu enjoyed in Albania during the dark times of Enver Hoxha’s dictatorship, as well as the respect he had from his colleagues and filmmakers he collaborated with.

Most of the film’s 67 minutes of runtime goes to interviews (filmed by Endi Hoxha) with different people who knew Fehmiu and played a certain role in his life, such as his wife Branka Petrić, brother Arsim Fehmiu, filmmaker Goran Marković, writer Miljenko Jergović, late film critic Milan Vlajčić, and colleagues Faruk Begolli, Enver Petrovci, Branislav Lečić and Eleonora Giorgi, to name a few. Those interviews, against a completely black background, are constantly accompanied with music (credited to the star actor who managed to walk Fehmiu’s path later, Rade Šerbedžija) that switches genres and registers to fit the topic of the particular passage. Other than that, we can see some archival material from different countries, usually showing Fehmiu's screen successes and public appearances edited into the mix by Afrim Peposhi and Riza Vreko.

In the end, Tertini's documentary is a decent, respectful, but not exactly exceptional biographical documentary that could be a better fit for television than for a theatrical release. Bekim Fehmiu the documentary certainly respects Bekim Fehmiu the actor, the hero and the public figure, but it does not get beyond the surface in presenting his greatness.

Strange Darling

 kritika objavljena u dodatku Objektiv dnevnog lista Pobjeda

Neki od nas se možda makar ovlaš sećaju emisije Fazoni i fore, Mirjane Karanović kao Alapače, Raše Popova kao Izumitelja i Ljubivoja Ršumovića kao Svetskog putnika. Nije to bila emisija koja se čekala i za koju se „oštrilo“ (u vreme pre interneta, publika je zavisila od dobre volje televizijskih urednika), ali makar je delovala dovoljno moderno i u skladu sa senzibilitetom tadašnjih klinaca da prva reakcija na njenu uvodnu špicu ne bi bila hvatanje za daljinski upravljač u cilju menjanja kanala. Trivijalno znanje pokupljeno iz emisije (u vremenu pre Vikipedije) nekome je možda kasnije dobro došlo na nekom pab-kvizu. Samih fora i fazona iz emisije, strateški ubačenih kroz skečeve snimljene na pravim lokacijama umesto u televizijskom studiju, verovatno manje, ali oni su služili svrsi da se malo razbije monotonija serviranja edukativnog sadržaja.

Tako je to s forama i fazonima i inače: dobar su začin i služe svrsi relaksacije, ali greška bi bila baciti sve karte na njih i pustiti ih da preuzmu i diktiraju celu stvar. Takav postupak iziskuje velemajstora da ga izvede, bilo da se tu radi o samom sadržaju ili o zanatskim postupcima u izvedbi. Loše vesti za reditelja Dž.T. Molnera i njegov film Strange Darling je što je njegov uradak upravo serija fazona i fora od kojih većina čak i nisu njegove, odnosno nije ih se on prvi setio. Film je, doduše, nakupio skoro unisono pozitivne kritike, što znači da ih je Molner vrhunski prodao, ali tu se postavlja pitanje – kome?

Autor čak i otvara film forom, ne toliko buđavom, koliko nepotrebnom i suštinski promašenom: karticom teksta na kojoj piše da je film u potpunosti snimljen na filmsku traku od 35 milimetara. Ovo je do pre dvadesetak godina bio standard za bioskopske filmove, a sada, kada je digitala preuzela primat, važi za retkost, luksuz i nekakvu „značku pravovernosti“. Čak iako to ne prepoznamo (a iskusniji gledaoci će to svakako učiniti makar zbog topline boja), nije na režiseru da to ističe, već je to posao marketinškog tima.

Nakon te prve, odmah slede druga i treća. Druga bi bila crvena boja i standardni „font“ kojima se to „štampa“ na ekran, što je jasna asocijacija na stare žanrovske filmove, ali je i manje-više standardni štos iz „retro-šik“ seta trikova. Treća je još jedna kartica teksta, ovog puta toliko dugačka da sitnijim slovima zauzme ceo ekran, koja nam govori o tome kako je zapadnim delom Sjedinjenih Američkih Država, od Kolorada na jugu, preko Stenovitih Planina, do Oregona na severu, od 2018. do 2020. godine harao serijski ubica i kako je ono što ćemo upravo videti poslednji deo njegovog pohoda. Isti „printani“ tekst čita nam i narator (Džejson Patrik) monotonim glasom iz „true crime“ televizijskih emisija retro štiha.

Tu onda vidimo i prve snimljene kadrove filma, kratke i crno-bele, u brzoj sukcesiji. Prvo, ženu koja pita čoveka je li on serijski ubica i zatim njega kako je davi. Eto nam i četvrte fore pre nego što film zaista počne i ona je pomalo buđava.

Nakon četvrte, slede i peta, šesta i sedma. Peta je opet tekstualna kartica koja nam objašnjava da gledamo „triler u šest poglavlja“, što će se ispostaviti kao laž, budući da film ima i epilog koji je duži od nekih poglavlja. Šesta je zapravo špica u kojoj vidimo mladu ženu kako trči livadom u „slow motionu“ okrvavljenog uva dok se jednako polako slika transformiše od crno-bele do punog kolora i u pozadini ide obrada „soft rok“ standarda Love Hurts za duet. Sedma je, pak, da ta poglavlja (naslovljena replikama koje ćemo čuti tokom njihovog trajanja) nisu hronološki poređana.

Prvo poglavlje koje vidimo je zapravo treće u priči. I tu vidimo brkatog rmpaliju (Kajl Galner) kako, sve šmrčući kokain, pod punim gasom u zastrašujuće velikom pik-apu proganja žensku sa špice (Vila Ficdžerald) koja beži u malom, starom crvenom autu. Na nekoj ravnici, brka se zastavlja, vadi pušku, penje se na zadnji deo vozila, nišani i puca, razbijajući zadnje staklo, zbog čega dama gubi kontrolu nad vozilom koje se prevrće i završava pored puta. Ona nastavlja pešice kroz šumu i dolazi do usamljene kuće, izgovarajući naslovnu rečenicu: „Možete li mi, molim vas, pomoći?“

Dalje imamo peto poglavlje jurnjave i igre žmurke u toj istoj kući. Brka i dalje mahnita s puškom, a žena sitne građe se sakrila u zamrzivač. Na podu kuće leži starac, pretpostavljamo vlasnik, u lokvi krvi.

Priča nas dalje vodi ka prvom poglavlju u kojem su rmpalija i dama na sastanku, odnosno na njegovom epilogu i igraju igru zavođenja, odnosno pregovaranja o onome što će uslediti. Ona mu objašnjava kako je za ženu teško da se malo zabavi s nepoznatim muškarcem jer ne može biti sigurna je li on (serijski) ubica, nasilnik ili će je možda razočarati svojom izvedbom. On, pomalo zbunjen, ali ipak smiren, uverava je da nije ništa od toga, a pritom se čak i rekreativno bavio glumom, pa je prilično siguran da će ispuniti zadatke iz „igre uloga“ koje će mu ona zadati.

Četvrto poglavlje je most između trećeg i petog u kojem upoznajemo pokojnog starca (karakterni glumac Ed Begli mlađi) i njegovu suprugu (Barbara Herši) kao ostarele hipike koji izvode svoju rutinu nedeljnog jutra koja uključuje najgrozniji doručak ikada (jaja pržena na celoj kocki putera, kobasice s kojih se cedi mast, palačinke pržene u toj istoj masti, ogromne količine javorovog sirupa, šlag i jagode, sve na istom tanjiru) i takmičenje u sastavljanju slagalice, dok ista ne bude prekinuta dolaskom dame u nevolji. Drugo poglavlje je dalja razrada prvog u smeru toga kako se dogovoreni sastanak preokrenuo u smeru jurnjave, a šesto funkcioniše kao lažni kraj priče, ali zato u sebi sadrži „tarantinovsku“ digresiju o sudbini serijskog ubice Gerija Gilmora koji je zatražio da ga streljaju. Do epiloga smo se već navikli na preokrete, pa ih u njemu očekujemo.

Iz priloženog je jasno da pred sobom zapravo imamo materijal za dva prilično različita i prilično jednostavna kratka filma koja su spojena u jedan. A tako nešto je moguće samo uz pomoć jedne kapitalno velike fore i onog glavnog, kardinalnog preokreta koji nam izmiče tlo pod nogama. Molner ih znalački priprema serijom manjih i perfektno tempira poigravajući se s ritmom kojeg čas diže, čas spušta (svaka čast montažeru Kristoferu Robinu Belu), te sa estetikom video-spotova ubacujući tu kantautorske balade Zi Berg kao muzičku pratnju. Opet, gledaocima sa iskustvom je prilično jasno ne samo koji će to tačno preokret biti, nego i kada bi moglo do njega doći... To sve dolazi i sa određenim implikacijama koje autor pokušava da utemelji sa još nekoliko „tarantinovski“ samosvesnih dijaloških prepucavanja, što ostavlja pomalo gorak ukus i na moralnom i na filmofilskom planu bez obzira što provocira razmišljanje na hipotetičke „šta ako“ teme.

I pored toga, Strange Darling po komponentama nudi dosta toga za uživanje ako je gledalac voljan da se filmu prepusti što i nije teško, budući da Molner makar demonstrira puno stila i osećaja za vizuelno. Deo zasluga svakako treba pripisati i inače karakternom glumcu Đovaniju Ribiziju koji u Molnerovom filmu debituje kao – direktor fotografije i pritom pokazuje svu raskoš svog do sada neotkrivenog talenta posebno u smislu poigravanja sa svetlom, što prirodnim, što veštačkim. Drugi razlog je što, uprkos iskrzanoj strukturi i „ceđenju suve drenovine“ od materijala, film teče glatko. U tom smislu, posebnu pohvalu zaslužuju glumci koji ulažu sve što imaju u svoje likove i njihove transformacije.

Na kraju, ipak, Strange Darling je manje od zbira svojih impresivnih komponenti. One su dovoljne da svaka za sebe ostavi jak i trajan utisak na gledaoca (što nije mala stvar u doba kada se filmovi serijski proizvode i još brže zaboravljaju), ali se, nažalost, nameće još jedan, onaj generalni. Autor Dž.T. Molner se, naime, preigrao u pokušaju da ispadne jako pametan otkrivajući „toplu vodu“ i prodajući u suštini „provaljene“ fore i fazone.

Lista - Septembar 2024.

 

ukupno pogledano: 60 (41 dugometražni, 19 kratkometražnih)
prvi put pogledano: 58 (39 dugometražnih, 19 kratkometražnih)
najbolji utisak (prvi put pogledano): The Substance
najlošiji utisak: Borderlands

*ponovno gledanje
**kratkometražni
***srednjemetražni
**(*)kratkometražni, ponovno gledanje

kritike objavljene na webu su aktivni linkovi

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

01.09. festival The Devil's Bath / Des Teufels Bad (Veronika Franz, Severin Fiala, 2024) - 8/10
**01.09. festival On the Way / Rrugës (Samir Karahoda, 2024) - 7/10
01. 09. festival At the Door of My House, Who Will Come Knocking? / Ko će pokucati na vrata moje kuće? (Maja Novaković, 2024) - 7/10
01.09. festival Pavilion 6 / Paviljon 6 (Goran Dević, 2024) - 7/10
02.09. video Dusk for a Hitman / Crépuscule pour un tueur (Raymond St-Jean, 2023) - 7/10
02.09. festival Oh Canada (Paul Schrader, 2024) - 5/10
03.09. video Boy Kills World (Moritz Mohr, 2023) - 3/10
03.09. festival Misericordia / Miséricorde (Alain Guiraudie, 2024) - 8/10
04.09. festival Alpha. (Jan-Willem van Ewijk, 2024) - 7/10
04.09. video The Baby Snatcher (Andrew Lawrence, 2023) - 3/10
05.09. video A Good Person (Zach Braff, 2023) - 6/10
05.09. kino Borderlands (Eli Roth, 2024) - 2/10
05.09. festival Eat the Night (Caroline Poggi, Jonathan Vinel, 2024) - 6/10
05.09. festival The Last Stop in Yuma County (Francis Galluppi, 2023) - 6/10
06.09. festival Possibility of Paradise / Mogućnost raja (Mladen Kovečević, 2024) - 7/10
06.09. festival When Santa Was a Communist / Djeda Mraz u Bosni (Emir Kapetanović, 2024) - 6/10
08.09. video Longlegs (Osgood Perkins, 2024) - 5/10
09.09. video My First Film (Zia Anger, 2024) - 5/10
10.09. video Skincare (Austin Peters, 2024) - 7/10
10.09. festival Horizonte (César Augusto Acevedo, 2024) - 8/10
*11.09. video The Crow (Alex Proyas, 1994) - 8/10
12.09. festival Daughter's Daughter / Nu'er de nu'er (Xi Huang, 2024) - 7/10
12.09. festival The Courageous / Les courageux (Jasmin Gordon, 2024) - 7/10
12.09. video Rebel Ridge (Jeremy Saulnier, 2024) - 9/10
12.09. festival The Editorial Office / Redaktsiya (Roman Bondardchuk, 2024) - 7/10
13.09. kino The Crow (Rupert Sanders, 2024) - 4/10
14.09. video Didi (Sean Wang, 2024) - 5/10
15.09. video Trap (M. Night Shyamalan, 2024) - 4/10
16.09. video AGGRO DR1FT (Harmony Korine, 2023) - 5/10
*17.09. video Beetlejuice (Tim Burton, 1988) - 7/10
17.09. video Mother, Couch (Niclas Larsson, 2023) - 7/10
18.09. video Cuckoo (Tilman Singer, 2024) - 7/10
19.09. kino Speak No Evil (James Watkins, 2024) - 4/10
20.09. video Dead Whisper (Connor Soucy, 2024) - 5/10
21.09. video Winner (Susanna Fogel, 2024) - 6/10
22.09. video Blink Twice (Zoë Kravitz, 2024) - 5/10
23.09. video Tiger Stripes (Amanda Nell Eu, 2023) - 6/10
24.09. video Crossing (Levan Akin, 2024) - 7/10
**25.09. video Reality+ (Coralie Fargeat, 2014) - 8/10
25.09. kino Transformers One (Josh Cooley, 2024) - 4/10
26.09. kino Strange Darling (JT Mollner, 2023) - 6/10
26.09. kino The Substance (Coralie Fargeat, 2024) - 9/10
27.09. video Kneecap (Rich Peppiatt, 2024) - 6/10
**28.09. festival Juggernaut (Daniele Ricci, Emanuele Ricci, 2024) - 6/10
**28.09. festival Dark Mommy (Courtney Eck, 2024) - 5/10
**29.09. festival Amen / Amin (Ana Marija Janković, 2024) - 7/10
**29.09. festival How the Cities Became Oases for Bees / Kako su gradovi postali oaze za pčele (Jakša Minić, 2024) - 7/10
**29.09. festival Where Do Lost Cats Go? / Kuda idu izgubljene mačke (Amar Komić, 2024) - 5/10
**29.09. festival Link (Stanka Gjurić, 2024) - 3/10
**29.09. festival The Hour of Death / Smrtna ura (Tomaž Gorkič, 2024) - 8/10
**30.09. festival Fakelook (Duško Pašić, 2024) - 5/10
**30.09. festival Lucky Snails / Blago puževima (Olga Milisavljević, 2024) - 5/10
**30.09. festival Gaming Friend / Gejming drugar (Iva Milojković, 2024) - 4/10
**30.09. festival Miasma / Mijazma (Petar Tkalec, 2024) - 7/10
**30.09. festival Skin / Koža (Jovana Lazin, 2024) - 5/10
**30.09. festival Night / Noć (Minja Vuletić, 2024) - 6/10
**30.09. festival Fear / Strah (Erhad Mašović, 2024) - 5/10
**30.09. festival No Milk Today (Lazar Bačkonja, 2024) - 4/10
**30.09. festival Eat Me / Jedi me (Milana Miljković, 2024) - 5/10
**30.09. festival King of Nothing / Kralj ničega (Aleksa Gajić, 2024) - 8/10

A Film a Week - ...Ned, tassot, yossot

 previously published on Cineuropa

North Korea is probably the most closed-off country in the world, and the pieces of information (and art, likewise) that do come out of the territory first go through the filter of government censorship aligned with the national propaganda directed by the ruling communist party. The censorship has sometimes been surpassed in very clever ways, with Ugis Olte’s and Morten Traavik’s documentary musical Liberation Day (2016) and Vitaly Mansky’s Under the Sun (2015) being the most prominent examples.

However, before those two documentaries, there was Brigitte Weich’s Hana, dul, sed… (2009), her documentary about the four selected players from North Korea’s women’s football national team that won the Asian Cup two consecutive times and qualified for the World Cup. Its sequel ...ned, tassot, yossot... (both titles are actually a sequence of numbers in the Korean language) premiered last spring at Diagonale, before departing on a festival tour with stops at IDFA and Jeonju. It also competed in the Documentary Competition of the recently finished Sarajevo Film Festival.

Weich's new film follows the same four women, now ex-footballers that hold new positions in the North Korean women’s football landscape, either as coaches, national association executives or referees. The pretext for the new film was the screening of the previous one at the cinema at Taedong Gate for a select audience, but the filmmaker uses it to check on her protagonists from the film 5 years ago and to see how they are doing now. The answers are expected, all of them have married since, some of them have children… In the meantime, a fiction TV show was also made about the historical success of this generation of women footballers, and it was directed by Cha Suk, the only female director in the country, so she also becomes a protagonist in Weich's film.

As the film progresses, the subjects become more open about their lives and opinions, and so do the settings. At first, we see them at meetings at official buildings, supposedly closely monitored by government officials, but later on the locales seem more private and natural, and so do the conversations between the protagonists and the filmmaker. In the background of this group portrait, we also see the landscape of North Korea as it really is, with infrequent traffic on the streets, grandiose buildings, monuments and slogans coming from the quotes of the late leaders Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il on everything, from ideology to art. We can also see some more intimate details, such as the rituals imposed on children since the nursery age, the state of football fields and details about the nourishment of professional athletes.

Apart from inserting the younger of the leaders’ quotes into the film's fabric and translating every slogan on the street that get printed on the screen in handsomely designed titles, Weich also introduces her own commentary, juxtaposing the mix of interview portraits and observations regarding the landscape with the quick interludes of group art activities, such as playing instruments (accordions, cymbals) or ballet dancing to the sound of drums. Equipped with Barbara Seidler’s and Monika Willi’s rock-solid editing, those intermezzos highlight one of the points of the film: that it is all a directed-from-above, group effort in a heavily ideologised society, but there is still a narrow space for individual ambitions and acts.

A Film a Week - Cent'anni

 previously published on Cineuropa

Sometimes, a documentary filmmaker ends up with a completely different film than was originally planned or even imagined because we never know what reality might bring further down the line. For instance, this happened to Slovenian filmmaker Maja Doroteja Prelog and her debut feature-length documentary, Cent’anni. After the long process of shooting, editing and structuring it, as well as the world premiere that took place at Trieste earlier this year, Cent’anni enjoyed its international premiere in the documentary competition of the 30th Sarajevo Film Festival.

The film was originally envisioned as a triumphant, celebratory affair, just like the event it portrays: the filmmaker’s partner in life and art, Blaž Murn, embarks on his own Giro d’Italia-inspired cycling endeavour from the Dolomites in the north all the way down to Etna in the south in order to celebrate his all-clear from leukaemia and to serve as inspiration to the patients still fighting the disease. Along the way, however, it became a chronicle of their long relationship finally falling apart and them falling out of love with each other. For the filmmaker, from whose point of view we watch the events unfold, some figuring-out has to occur…

Before the fateful trip and project, their relationship seemed to be able to withstand every challenge, from abortion to his illness and her nursing him back to health, even though she is not really the type. The reason for this was Maja’s fascination with him and her determination to be the “cool” girlfriend who would not bother him too much. But the illness changed him into an ego-maniac who likes the sound of his voice so much that he speaks in long monologues, and maybe even into a narcissist who demands awe masked as respect – but is not able to give any to others. In “his” film, her role was one of technical support and a communicator between the star and the crew.

Maja Doroteja Prelog is pretty hands-on regarding her approach, given that, other than writing and directing the documentary, she also filmed most of the material herself, giving the camera to another cinematographer, Lav Predan Kowarski, Blaž or another crew member only when absolutely necessary. The cinematography itself is beautiful, thanks mainly to the choice of attractive locations that also have a foreboding, or at least slightly perilous, edge to them, but the focus also remains faithful to both Blaž’s heroic effort to complete his “race” and Maja’s to make a film in such conditions. Other technical components are stellar as well: Uroš Maksimović’s editing is precise, Sebastian Zawadzski’s music corresponds with the landscape of Maja’s state of mind and emotions, while Julij Zornik’s and Ricardo Spagnol’s sound design satisfyingly fills the sonic landscape.

Cent’anni is a rare personal and sincere film in which its filmmaker gives her all. It is also a highly subjective one, but rightfully so, since its topics are sensitive, and the director does not judge anyone apart from herself. Rarely do we see a person willing to expose her inner life to us to such an extent.

Speak No Evil

 kritika objavljena u dodatku Objektiv dnevnog lista Pobjeda

U metalskim krugovima kruži priča da, kad god bi kultni američki „glameri“ Twisted Sister izvodili jedan od svojih većih hitova, Burn in Hell, nastup bi počeli s objašnjenjem da to nije njihova obrada norveškog sastava Dimmu Borgir, već da su norveški „blekeri“ obradili njih. Objašnjenje je sasvim logično, makar zbog toga što je ekstremniji norveški sastav „preuzeo“ stvar i preneo je u nove generacije poklonika žestoke muzike, ali i posve nepotrebno kada uzmemo u obzir da je vremenska razlika između verzija pesme celih 17 godina. Pesmu takođe ne bi trebalo mešati sa potpuno drugom pesmom istog naziva britanskih „hevijanera“ Judas Priest.

Nadajmo da se danski glumac, scenarista i reditelj Kristijan Tafdrup i njegov brat i ko-scenarista Mads neće morati da objašnjavaju da je Speak No Evil u originalu njihov film, a ne uradak kompanije Blumhouse i njihovog egzekutora Džejmsa Votkinsa, iako je razlika u godinama značajno manja, samo dve. Za razliku od muzike, stvari kod filmova ipak idu nešto drugačije, pa je izgledno da nećemo dobiti evropski arthaus žestoki rimejk američke komercijale, dok je kretanje u drugom smeru sasvim očekivana pojava. Za ovaj slučaj smo mogli da pretpostavimo kada je film braće Tafdrup imao premijeru na Sandensu gde je pobrao dobre kritike.

Dodatni šlagvort za metalski uvod odozgo je i to što se naslov filma pominje u pesmi. Ako već danski producenti nisu mogli i hteli da se „otvore“ za bilo koju od njenih verzija, američki su mogli je bi, tako ritmična i dinamična, bila savršena makar za foršpan. Nisu, i to je šteta.

Osnova priče je ista. Dve naizgled buržoaske porodice koje sačinjavaju po par roditelja i po jedno dete sličnog uzrasta upoznaju se na odmoru u Italiji i „kliknu“. U originalu su to danska i holandska porodica, a u novoj verziji američka bazirana u Londonu i britanska koja živi na farmi u Devonu. Kada holandska u originalu, odnosno devonska u rimejku, pozove onu drugu koja inače prolazi kroz bračnu krizu da im dođu u posetu, oni prihvataju. Idiličan vikend ubrzo postaje vikend iz pakla jer se domaćini ispostavljaju kao sirovi i čudni ljudi, a gosti, iako im instinkt to nalaže, nikako da pobegnu jer bi to bilo u suprotnosti s njihovim vaspitanjem koje nalaže pristojnost i kurtoaziju.

U novoj, američkoj verziji, Italiju „igra“ Istra, američki par Bena i Luiz Skut MekNeri i Mekenzi Dejvis, njihovu kći Agnes Aliks Vest Lefler, britanski par Pedija i Kjaru Džejms MekAvoj i Ešling Franćozi, a njihovog sina Anta Den Huf. Kao i Abel u originalu, i Ant je ovde nem zbog navodno urođenog deformiteta, odnosno nerazvijenog jezika. Dodatne razlike su i „žvakanje“ materijala za američku publiku zbog čega su Pedi i Kjara u startu postavljeni kao neposredniji, zapravo prostiji ljudi skloni provokacijama i skandalizovanju „publike“, veći akcenat stavljen na bračne probleme Bena i Luiz, starost dece i činjenica da su obe familije kulturološki bliže jedna drugoj nego što su bile u originalu.

Ponešto od tih izmena ima smisla i „pojačava“ rimejk u odnosu na original (recimo scena u restoranu je kod Votkinsa oštrija nego kod Tafdrupa, kao i implikacija da Agnes odbija da odraste, što ima naplatu kasnije). Ponešto je, pak, „spelovanje“ kako bi motivacija Bena i Luiz bila očitija, a njihovi likovi navodno utemeljeniji, a ponešto Votkins rešava sa samim opštim mestima poput razgovora o izvrtanju (ili očuvanju) kulturoloških razlika na temu odnosa do oružja, ekologije, vegetarijanstva i održive privrede. Potonjim se Votkins poigrava s citiranjem Pekinpoovog klasika Straw Dogs (1971) i rimejka istog filma Roda Lurija (2011), čime priprema teren za „svoju“ poentu i kapitalnu razliku između između svog i Tafdrupovog filma.

Dakle, u prvih sat i kusur vremena imamo utisak da gledamo manje-više isti film (čak ni preveden, likovi u originalu su takođe međusobno komunicirali na engleskom jeziku, logično), s tek ponekom sitnom izmenom. Ali sa završnicom Votkins zapravo obrće stvari naglavačke, čime ovaj rimejk spušta s nivoa nepotrebnog do nivoa sasvim promašenog i čak uvredljivog za svakog filmofila. Za početak, produžava ga za nekih petnaestak minuta, što je ovde još i najmanji problem.

Drugi problem je tek ovlaš pripremljeno žanrovsko skretanje i interno, i u odnosu na original. Votkins, naime, na osnovu psihološke drame u kojoj se podižu tenzije, pa ona prerasta u horor, kalemi još jedno dodatno skretanje prema trileru, i to izvrnute „home invasion“ sorte, pa nam postaje jasno zašto se, kao za štaku, uhvatio za Sema Pekinpoa. Na njegovu i našu žalost, rezultat dobacuje tek do Lurijevog rimejka.

Ali, zapravo, najveći problem kraja je njegovo usmerenje od šokantno-nihilističkog do ničim zasluženog i ničim opravdanog američki trijumfalističkog. Time se zapravo iz korena menja misija i poenta originala koji je pažljivo građen da nas protrese, da prodrma naše građanske stavove o imperativu pristojnosti i da nas natera na razmišljanje. I u tom smislu, nešto udaranja po opštim mestima toksičnog maskuliniteta ranije u svrhu pripremanja gledaoca zapravo filmu donosi više šteta nego koristi.

To se oseti na planu izgradnje likova koji postaju skoro karikaturalni, što glumce stavlja pod određeni pritisak. U tome najgore prolazi Skut MekNeri koji igra totalnog mlakonju. Za njim je njegova partnerka Mekenzi Dejvis koja ulazi u stereotip žene-majke koja zvoca suprugu da je mlakonja, a pritom permisivnim odgojem kćeri omogućava da svojom dečijom logikom vodi domaćinstvo. Zadatak Ešling Franćozi svodi se na to da nas drži u neizvesnosti je li ona prva Pedijeva žrtva ili mu je svestan pomagač. Makar se čini da Džejms MekAvoj uživa u svojoj ulozi sirovo inteligentnog ludaka, ali to je zapravo tip uloge u kojoj se škotski glumac i inače savršeno snalazi, a gledali smo ga i u „luđim“ izdanjima.

Inače, Džejms Votkins je zanatski pismen režiser koji može da odradi posao, što je već dokazao sa solidnijim „Blumhouse“ hororima Eden Lake (2008) i The Woman in Black (2012), pa čak i sa akcionim filmom Bastille Day (2016), ali svi ti filmovi su već bili tipski postavljeni, po tipskoj i jednostavnoj viziji. Ali da bi napravio smislen, čak upečatljiv rimejk, naročito nečeg atipičnog i kompleksnog kao što je to Speak No Evil, to ipak ne. Bilo je slučajeva uspelih „obrada“, prerada i rekontekstualizacija filmova, nije da nije, ali ova verzija Speak No Evil to nije i ne može da bude. Zapravo, čak je i uvredljivo da je tako nešto pokušao.