The Magnet Man

 kritika objavljena u dodatku Objektiv dnevnog lista Pobjeda

Tako to biva s cirkusom. O ovoj instituciji imamo dva jednako iritantna stereotipa koja koristimo kao svojevrsne štake. Jedan je plitko-pozitivan i po njemu je cirkus mesto slobode u kojem izopštenici i otpadnici uspevaju da pronađu svoje mesto pod Suncem. Drugi je melanholično-negativan, a izopštenici koji se u cirkusu okupljaju tamo ipak ne uspevaju da zaleče svoj bol.

The Magnet Man holandskog autora Husta van der Berha predstavnik je ove druge „škole mišljenja“ o cirkusu. Film je premijerno prikazan prošle godine u takmičarskom programu Black Nights Film Festivala u Talinu, a kod nas u region je prispeo na Festival Evropskog Filma na Paliću čije je ovogodišnje izdanje 31. po redu. Film je prikazan u glavnom takmičarskom programu na letnjoj pozornici, ali u manje atraktivnom, kasnom terminu.

Naš naslovni junak Lusijen (Deni Ronaldo), seljak iz ravne i blatnjave Flandrije. Ovaj naizgled ni po čemu poseban tupavac, međutim, ima jedan talenat: on je „čovek-magnet“, za njega se lepe metalni predmeti kao što su veći novčići, escajg, makaze i slično. „I u Antverpenu su rekli da tako nešto nisu videli“, kaže njegova umiruća majka putniku-namerniku, vašarskom muzičaru koji se u njihovu kuću sakrio od kiše.

Majka, međutim, uskoro umire, pa posle sahrane otac kuje plan: on će sa sinom u grad, pravo u nekakav pučki teatar, gde bi on mogao da pokaže svoje talente i da za to bude plaćen. Ali, kad otac pošalje sina s violinom punom nađenog novca na železničku stanicu da ga sačeka, dešava se nesreća (pogađate, magnetne prirode) i njih dvojica se razdvajaju. Lusijen na kraju u putujući cirkus prispeva sam...

A tamo ga čekaju klasični cirkuski tipovi: lažni egipatski fakir iz Zapadne Flandrije, klovn-najavljivač Pladijs (Jan Bijvoet, poznat po ulogama u filmovima Borgman, The Broken Circle Breakdown i The Embrace of the Serpent) s pesničkom dušom, dirigent koji je u stvari propali kompozitor, snagator i lažljivi, pohlepni šef cirkusa Sezar Malfe (Karel Kremers). Na prostodušnog pridošlicu će prijateljsku i ljudsku pažnju obratiti samo njegova kćerka, plesačica Žervez (Izolda Dihauk) s kojom će kasnije on imati zajedničku plesno-paranormalnu tačku.

Sve, čini se, ide kao po loju, sve dok nepismeni Lusijen ne dobije pismo iz svog zavičaja od komšinice Etel (Mieke Dobels) da mu je otac na samrti. Odlučuje da se vrati, pa silom prilika tamo i ostaje, dok ga seoski pastor (Bruno Vanden Breke) uverava da se okane snova i skrasi, odnosno da prihvati svoju sudbinu. Njega, međutim, nazad intimno vuku svetla pozornice, pa makar i provincijalne i prema njemu prevarantski nastrojene.

Prosede je, dakle, kliše do klišea, u potpunosti predvidljiv i do sada toliko puta ispričan u masi filmova o cirkusu. Autor Van der Berhe (čiji je film Lucifer imao zdrav festivalski život pre desetak godina) na taj kostur pokušava da kači razne detalje kao što su apsurdno-komični momenti (recimo na majčinoj sahrani ili sa vozom), ili, pak, oni melanholični (kao u sekvencama cirkusog života), ili, na kraju krajeva, oni sasvim čudni. Citiraju se klasici ovakvog ili onakvog humora, od „deadpan“ do groteskne i apsurdne varijante, od Bastera Kitona preko Žaka Tatija i Federika Felinija, pa sve do Žan-Pjera Ženea i Roja Andersona, a dizajnerski detalji poput scenografije, kostimografije i fotografije koja ih hvata u kontrastu od sivila, preko ispranih do sasvim živih boja su prilično upadljivi, iako ne nužno dopadljivi. Interesantan je i izbor glumaca: glavna uloga dodeljena je stvarnom cirkusom artisti, a njegovu primarnu partnerku igra Izolda Dihauk, glumica izuzetno zanimljive biografije široj publici najpoznatija po ulozi Lukrecije Bordžije u seriji.

Međutim, svi ti ukusi i arome se ne prožimaju baš najbolje jer apsolutno sve u filmu deluje slučajno i proizvoljno, kao kolekcija rasutih misli i ideja koje ne vode nikuda. U tome stereotipi o tužnim klovnovima, slaboumnicima dobrog srca, kradljivim gazdama, dokonim popovima i masi koja bi da se malo nasmeje iako rat (Prvi svetski) besni okolo služe kao ortopedska pomagala ne bi li film makar stvorio neku iluziju kretanja. Na kraju, manje od 90 minuta filma će nam se učiniti mnogo dužim, pa će nam ostati da se pitamo čemu sve to.

A Film a Week - Hit the Road / Jaddeh Khaki

 previously published on Asian Movie Pulse

Panah Panahi is the son of the acclaimed Iranian dissident filmmaker Jafar Panahi, the winner of many prizes at the top film festivals and the auteur who was sentenced to 6 years in prison and 20-year filmmaking ban for his socially critical work. Panah inhereted his father’s filmmaking talent, got his filmmaking education and learned the tricks of the trade by assisting his father and even co-editing his film “3 Faces” (2018). “Hit the Road” is Panahi Junior’s feature directing debut that was selected for Directors Fortnight at Cannes. We had the chance to see it at Sarajevo’s Open Air section.

Hit the Road opens to the sounds of Chopin’s piano music over the black screen before the action starts in the car. A hyperactive, obviously bored boy (Rayan Sarlak), pretend-plays the keyboard drawn on the cast on his father’s (Hassan Madjooni) leg. The mother (Pantea Panahiha of “Breath” and “I Am Diego Maradona” fame) sits on the front seat, while the elder brother (Amir Simiar) is the driver. There is a sense of secrecy around the family road trip, it certainly is not a vacation, the car is a rental and the cell phones are forbidden. It actually has something to do with the sullen and largely silent much older brother, the kid brother is told the reason for his trip abroad (illegally crossing the border) is the prospect of marriage, but the story rings fake. By the end of the film, we shall know more.

The trip itself has many bumps and situations on the way to keep us interested according to the laws of the dramaturgy, but “Hit the Road” is not a film of much action. Everyone in the family plays a certain role, the kid is a little menace and a sort-of comic relief, the bearded father is cynical in order to hide his true emotions and fears, the mother is empathetic, but stoic, suggesting that she shares a special bond with his older son, while the big brother is somewhat mysterious. There is also the sick family dog as a plot device or a metaphor of sorts that highlights the unease of the situation. The film is actually about the family relations and the emotional weight of one of the family members parting.

Panahi directs his first feature with style and elegance, channeling the energy and the hypnotic feeling of the masters of his father’s generation of Iranian filmmakers. Some of the scenes he carefully sets and shoots are a prime example of visual poetry, some others feel a notch too staged, but for a good reason. At one point, he even takes a trip out of the realistic realm he keeps his film grounded in for the rest of the film.

The acting is stellar and energetic, albeit the characters sometimes fit the well-known types and the family bickering is somewhat of a genre of its own. Pantea Panahiha occupies the emotional center of the film with grace and integrity, Hassan Madjooni balances well between the world-weariness and wit of his character, Amin Simiar is efficient as the quiet, worried one, while the sheer energy Sarlak is the proper discovery of the film.

Aesthetically, “Hit the Road” is a wonderful to look at. Amin Jafari’s cinematography captures the beauty of the natural surroundings in Northern Iran, while the smart editing by Ashkan Mehri and Amir Etminan induces some interesting rhythm changes in an overall deliberately slow pace. In the end, “Hit the Road” is nothing short of an impressive feature debut, making Panah Panahi one of the exciting new voices of the Iranian cinema.