A Sad and Beautiful World

A discerning viewer’s primary criterion when watching an art film is the truth that the film expresses. This truth is artistic, not factual or historical. It can be called artistic truth. The first criterion is whether the creator is true to his creation. The second criterion is what inner truth he has perceived. The third criterion is whether he is able to present it in his work without compromise. We say that the combination of these three truths constitutes artistic truth.

A work in which artistic truth is expressed communicates that truth to the viewer and, through it, overcomes its technical and other shortcomings. Artistic flaws in a work ultimately indicate a failure to express artistic truth.

Cyril Aris’s Lebanese film, A Sad and Beautiful World, is a film in which artistic truth is not expressed in any of the three aspects. It does not aim to honestly express the inner truth perceived by its creator. The film itself does not present any truth. The structure of the film was not created in that way either. It gives the impression that it is a film made by combining elements from other films. This film presents, through artificially constructed events, an emotional landscape that has been repeatedly depicted and worn out in films made for mass consumption over the past hundred years. The director infuses each moment with memories of past events and exaggerated sentimentality.

The director clearly plans its scenes to evoke specific emotional states in the viewer. School-day youthful love, accidentally rediscovering a lost lover from youth, the differing social statuses of the two lovers, their tragic backstories, their overcoming obstacles to unite, the subsequent complications, separation, and dreams—everything is recreated exactly as seen in countless other films. Moreover, this film is built upon the reality of the war-torn situation in Lebanon. However, it becomes apparent upon viewing that this story is unnecessary to convey the impact of that reality.

We see in this film the same kind of romantic and emotional conflict scenes that commercial entertainment films create by considering and catering to the general sensibilities of the audience. For example, the dialogues in the scenes where the protagonist and the heroine interact in the school setting, their expression of childhood love, and the conflict-free world they imagine—all of these are artificial constructs derived from other films. Commercial films frequently incorporate elements from other commercial films due to the audience’s familiarity with them. We see the same in this film. In almost every scene, there is a familiar quality that is only present in stories borrowed from commercial films. The director didn’t even try to make an art film, so this isn’t one.

However, the relationship between the child and father, as well as the dynamic among the father, mother, and child, offers some interesting and moving moments. The subtle humor makes the movie watchable.

Adams sake

The contradictions and complexities inherent in human relationships have always been central themes in literature. The task of artistic creations is to observe and evaluate these relational complexities from a detached, holistic perspective, identifying the underlying values ​​and transforming them into a universal vision. Literature has consistently addressed relational issues that are difficult to resolve in daily life.

At the worldly level, being in a situation that cannot be resolved with common sense is a fundamental question related to human nature or the natural order. From there, an artistic creation can leap toward universal truth. When we encounter a work that addresses a human relationship problem, a good way to evaluate it is to see if there is any answer to it at the simple, everyday level of common sense. Because, no matter how beautifully, sharply, and comprehensively the work presents the problem, it remains a superficial creation if the answer lies within that level. Only when the answer can be found by moving away from the immediate context and considering the problem holistically does it become a true work of art.

Laura Wandel’s film, Adam’s Sake, can be cited as such a work of art. It is the story of a single mother isolated with her four-year-old son. She doesn’t know how to raise her child. Therefore, she repeatedly feeds him only one type of food that he likes, or that she thinks he likes, causing him to suffer from severe malnutrition. His bones begin to break. Admitted to the hospital, the child clings to his mother, appearing sick and frightened. He has not been introduced to any other world. He has grown up fearing and viewing the world with suspicion.

The mother does not want to provide Adam with the necessary nutritious food because she harbors deep-seated suspicion and fear toward other people. She needs psychological help, but she is not cooperating. The film progresses through the efforts of Lucy, an elderly nurse in the hospital, to save Adam. The hard work and family responsibilities of Adam’s estranged father prevent him from accepting the child. His wife is anxious that if her child is left without a father, she will become a single mother.

In today’s demanding work environment, a child is a great burden, which only a family can bear. But due to today’s sexual freedom and individual freedom, families are disintegrating, and only individuals remain. They are unable to raise children. So what is to be done with these children? In fact, in the old tribal life, and later in the joint family system, children were always surrounded by a large group of children. They were raised by that large clan or extended family. I grew up like that. In my youth, I was always with four or five mothers and ten or fifteen siblings. The nuclear family that emerged later isolates children. A single-parent family makes the child a patient.

Adam only wants to be with his mother, plays only with her, eats only what his mother gives him, and talks to no one else. His mother is destroying him with her intense love and an even more intense sense of insecurity. The administration sees her only as a fierce and unyielding woman. But because Lucy herself is a single mother, she has a special affection for the woman. She tries to make her understand. Lucy’s struggle is the focus of this film. The film ends at the point where Lucy succeeds in creating, for the first time, a sense of trust in another person in the mother’s heart.

The film successfully establishes the constant tension of a hospital environment through continuously moving shots. Léa Drucker, as Lucie, delivered a remarkable performance, expressing the film’s full range of emotions through her physical presence. Anamaria Vartolomei, playing the single mother, also gave a superb and emotionally expressive performance. The film’s strength lies in the way it portrays each perspective so effectively that, while watching, it becomes difficult to decide who to be angry with and who to sympathize with.

All the complexities of human relationships ultimately affect children. Children bear the brunt of nature’s harshest injustices, from national conflicts to personal relationship issues. This film evokes a profound sense of guilt, suggesting that in our pursuit of individual freedom and sexual liberation, we have deprived children of their own freedom. Modern civilization grants everyone the right to seek their own happiness, but one cannot create the next generation without sacrificing one’s own pleasures.

This is a film that rises above the triangle of a single mother, the child whose life is threatened by her circumstances, and the nurse who tries to save the child, transcending that emotional landscape to guide the viewer towards fundamental questions of our contemporary times. It creates the thought that this world is designed for adults, but shouldn’t it be built primarily with children in mind? It makes one feel that a world should emerge for the sake of children.

Without preaching anything, and without any artificially constructed scenes or moments, this film unfolds naturally, offering the endless thoughts and emotional states that rare works of art create. I would call this one of the two best films of this festival.

The Elysian Field

Generally, most of the world’s films produced today have the nature of a short story or a slightly longer novella. Films that provide the feeling of reading a novel, its overall experience, and a comprehensive perspective within a single film are very rare. Films based on novels often manage to evoke that complete experience by reminding the viewer of the original novels. However, some films originate with the aesthetic qualities of a novel. Pradip Kurbah’s film, The Elysian Field, can be described as a novel on screen.

The film has a title that can be interpreted as “the land of the dead.” This title seems unrelated to the film’s distinctly Indian context and strikes me as a minor flaw, despite its connection to Greek mythology. This attribute is also the film’s only drawback. However, it also serves to explain the film’s theme. The story unfolds in a small village in the ancestral hill country of the Khasi tribe of Meghalaya.

The film begins with the image of the protagonist arriving by bus with the coffin containing his deceased wife’s body and traveling to his village. This journey, depicted as arduous and full of ups and downs, establishes from the very beginning how remote this place is from ordinary life. It is a small village abandoned by everyone. It consists only of houses that are either dilapidated or barely standing. Only six or seven people live there. Most of the former inhabitants have moved to the cities. The film suggests that cities are growing, and technology and consumerism are flourishing there. This land has been abandoned; it has been submerged beneath the tide of civilization.

No economic activity takes place in that small village. The inhabitants do nothing. A dead body arrives. The people there are dying. At one point, they wonder if there will even be anyone left to bury the dead. An old woman awaits death, and a grave has already been dug for her. They live there in the shadow of death, drinking, quarreling over trivial matters, nurturing small desires, and yet understanding their futility.

But it is a beautiful land, surrounded by lush green forests and the serene coolness of the mountains. Their only connection to the outside world is through a few who go to the city to buy supplies, and the intermittent electricity and telephone connection. The local priest, named Complete, climbs to the top of a building, trying to communicate with the contemporary world somewhere above him. Only a few meaningless words reach him from there.

This is a film where every character is precisely crafted. They are converted Khasi tribals. Their names are English words, mistakenly thought to be Christian names. The priest’s name is Complete – a man who feels his life is incomplete. Each character is on their own solitary journey through life. The wife who rejects her husband for his infidelity, the freedom she experiences after his death due to alcoholism, the two men who fall in love with her, and the laughter they share upon realizing the meaninglessness of love at that age – all these events are depicted subtly and naturally by the director. They reveal the director’s mature perspective on life.

The bus first stops at a place on the mountaintop where a church choir, which perished in a major accident, is still singing. The immortal death song of this choir of the dead continues to resonate in that land. Different characters hear this death song. This lends a profound sadness and a sense of magic to the place. Throughout the film, the characters talk and drink, discussing their relationships and the distant city. Another life, from a city far away, is subtly seeping into their existence. The small village feels like a place buried deep within the earth. Only the bodies of the dead and news of death arrive there.

The priest dreams of somehow bringing electricity to his church. An old woman wishes to die on Christmas Day, with the words of a hymn on her lips. Life unfolds, simultaneously interconnected and disconnected. The film concludes with electricity arriving on Christmas Day, a subtle connection, and the old woman passing away on the same day, as the world continues on its course. As each person dies, one day the village might cease to exist. It might become just a memory, a linguistic record, or perhaps nothing at all will remain.

This film offers a profoundly moving and thought-provoking experience, undoubtedly one of the finest ever made in India. The actors deliver their performances with remarkable naturalness; their appearances and demeanor are so authentic that they hardly seem like actors. The cinematography and sound design brilliantly capture the vast greenery of the landscape and the incessant rain. This film immerses viewers in a unique way of life, prompting contemplation and evaluation of human existence condensed into a single drop. I would consider this to be one of the two best films of the festival.

BLUE HERON

A family is a spiderweb woven from the emotions of its members. If a life that the web cannot contain enters it, the web begins to unravel. The struggle of that life to free itself only further destroys it. The web cannot endure without cutting it loose. But that destruction and abandonment are not so simple. Often, the web is damaged beyond repair.

The structure of a family system is the average of the emotional and intellectual states of each of its members. This includes everyone from children to the elderly. A personality far outside this average completely disrupts the family’s equilibrium. Individuals with extraordinary intelligence or unique pursuits often leave the family on their own. In India, this happens in every family and is accepted. However, those with mental health issues or serious illnesses do not leave the family. The family tries to manage them, attempts to understand them, and pressures them to change to suit the family’s needs. But each of these attempts destabilizes the family. Every member of the family is affected by it in some way.

The Canadian film Blue Heron, directed by Sophy Romvari, is a film that addresses such a fundamental problem. It depicts a middle-class family with a husband, wife, and children. The eldest son is a teenager, the son of the wife’s first husband. When signs of schizophrenia begin to appear in him, the family begins to unravel. They don’t know how to handle it. The schizophrenia progresses step by step. A social worker comes and tries to connect with the boy, understand him, and help him. Through this, the family’s situation and problems unfold with increasing clarity.

The onset of mental illness often manifests during adolescence. In today’s context, I feel, based on my experiences, that this seems to be somewhat increasing. It initially appears as one of the many problems of adolescence. Later, when it is confirmed to be schizophrenia, the family experiences immense shock. They don’t know how to handle it. A person with schizophrenia shouldn’t be isolated, but keeping them within the family is also extremely difficult for others. This film intensifies this problem, ultimately leading to a point of irresolution.

The film does not offer simplistic answers, suggesting that family relationships or society are the sole cause of the mental illness. Or perhaps it implies that everything is a contributing factor. Schizophrenia is when an individual is unable to follow the direction in which society is moving. They can be kept under control through medication, or through rigorous training, they can be made to blend in with the mainstream to some extent. But what to do ultimately remains a significant question for humanity.

The film concludes with the subtle relationship that the social worker develops with the boy, raising these questions from a specific family context to the broader level of humanity’s current dilemma. However, it goes nowhere; it cannot offer anything more than a depiction of a disturbing phenomenon, limiting its scope to a small territory.

This Is My Night

Directed by Jafra Younes, This Is My Night is a film that unfolds entirely as a conversation between a father and daughter in their home one afternoon. The father, a retired soldier and widower, lives with his daughter, who also has a brother. Throughout their dialogue, the daughter expresses how her father’s actions have burdened and ruined both her mother’s life and her own. Deeply depressed, she reveals her intention to commit suicide that evening. Essentially, the film is a prolonged exchange between them.

However, it feels more like a stage play than a film. Even in a stage play, one would expect varying emotional levels, conflicts, and tensions within the dialogue. In contrast, this film consists solely of alternating lines of dialogue, with neither character interrupting the other.

Moreover, the protagonist’s problems are deeply rooted in past memories, while in the present, she experiences only boredom and a sense of meaninglessness, without confronting any real crisis. The film’s most powerful moment occurs when the daughter enters a room with a gun to commit suicide and closes the door, leaving the father outside, rigid and frozen, with the stoic expression of a soldier, waiting.

THE FIN

The Fin, a film directed by Korean filmmaker Park Syeyoung, is a dystopian film set in a post-apocalyptic Korea after an ecological catastrophe. The sea has been completely polluted, affecting the coastal population, who undergo genetic mutations. Fish fins develop on their legs. These people are ostracized, considered inferior and untouchable, and confined behind a massive wall, where they are forced into monotonous labor. They are used for cleaning the sea and the coastline.

The people living on the other side of the wall live under a brutal totalitarian regime, struggling with severe water scarcity. The government blames the Omegas, mutated people on the other side of the wall, for their suffering and the water shortage. All the people on this side of the wall harbor intense hatred toward the Omegas. Among them, some Omegas with mutated legs wear artificial shoes to conceal their fins. A shoemaker secretly makes and provides these shoes.

When one of the Omegas dies, he gives one of his fins to a young Omega man standing nearby, asking him to give it to his daughter and request her to perform the proper funeral rites. The young man crosses the wall, finds the daughter living among the ordinary people, delivers the message, and gives her the fin. The film then progresses through the complications that arise for her as a result.

The film primarily uses color grading and filters to achieve its dark, Hollywood-esque atmosphere on an art-house budget. However, it’s also true that many scenes evoke a nihtemarish awe.

The film’s primary weakness is that its story has been told repeatedly, from Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World and George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four to numerous Hollywood films. The division between exploiters and the exploited in a dystopian future society, the oppressive surveillance state, the scarcity of water, the government’s manipulation of one group of the exploited against another, and the suppression of rebellions against the state—all of these elements have been seen many times before.

This film is also, in a way, a harsh critique of North Korea. A similar society exists there now. The state treats the majority of people there as lower-class citizens, subjecting them to forced labor and oppression. The remaining few, who are part of the government apparatus, also face a distinct form of oppression. However, the state sustains the animosity between various groups. While the film is noteworthy for depicting this situation, the familiar theme, story, and narrative style prevent it from achieving true artistic merit.