Flow (Straume)

Director: Gints Zilbalodis

Writers: Matiss Kaza, Gints Zilbalodis

As a kid I loved animation. The kid who any other day of the week couldn't get out of bed before noon would be up at 8am on Saturday mornings for hours of non-stop cartoons. Animation allowed the creators to break the rules of the universe and create wonderous new worlds and situations that appealed to the young me still trying to make sense of a world that didn't.

As I got older and my tastes got more sophisticated I moved on from animation. Those Saturday morning cartoons now seemed simplistic, silly and crudely drawn. Not that there wasn't great animation out there. I just didn't seek it out unless it was truly something special like anything by Pixar or Hayao Miyazaki.

Flow (Straume) has as much in common with those Saturday morning cartoons as Spirited Away does with Captain Caveman and the Teen Angels. At the heart of it its a road movie. A cat loses its home due to a cataclysmic flood that seems to destroy the entire world. As it struggles to survive it comes across other stranded animals along it's journey. They learn. They adapt. They grow. 

The film has no spoken dialogue. The only "dialogue" comes from the sounds you expect animals to make. And that's more than enough to create a truly moving and emotional film. There are two paths the animator could have taken. One is to make animals act like people. The other is to use the behaviors animals engage in to humanize them. Translate those behaviors into emotions that resonate with us. Contrasting Flow with The Wild Robot, which was released this year and is also a very good on it's own merits, and uses the later approach, in my opinion Flow is the better film by using the former. I enjoyed The Wild Robot, but often while watching it I was reminded that I was watching a film that created an artificial world. Things happened on the screen because someone wrote them that way in a script to create a situation that would either amuse or amaze. 

While watching Flow I never got that feeling. It felt natural and real in the context of the world it created. Truly great animation makes you forget that you are watching animation. All films require a degree of suspension of disbelief, but great films make you forget that you are doing it. 

The Lesson

Drama.
2014.
Written by Lauris Gundars, Andris Gauja, Aleksandrs Grebņevs.
Directed by Andris Gauja.
Filmed by Aleksandrs Grebņevs.
Starring: Inga Alsiņa, Mārcis Klatenbergs, Andrejs Smoļakovs, Gatis Gāga, Liena Šmukste, Marina Janaus, Edgars Siliņš, Ieva Apine, Elza Feldmane, Agirs Neminskis.

Andris Gaujas' The Lesson is a feature film which looks and feels like a documentary by design. It was originally meant as a documentary following a high school class through graduation, but fell apart during the filming once the principal of the school decided that the film was revealing too much.
The film tells the story of Zane Sirma (Inga Alsina) who is about to start her first year as a Russian language teacher in a Riga, Latvia's capital, high school. In addition to her duties as an instructor she is also to serve as the mentor for the current graduating class. She has just ended a relationship, her new coworkers seem indifferent to her for the most part, and her students resentful and rebellious. Zane grows close to one student , Inta (Ieva Apine), who is being abused by her father while one of the other students, Max (Marcis Klatenbergs), in the class seems to be developing a crush on Zane herself.
In documentary films we naturally accept that what we see on the screen is that way because that's how it happened. The filmmaker might have control over what he chooses to show us but not over what actually happens. In a narrative film our assumption is that the filmmaker has his hand everywhere and every single thing up on the screen is fraught with meaning. The documentary film approach doesn't really work for the first part of the film. As characters get introduced and the narrative arc established it all feels a little stilted and artificial. Empty spaces and extended silences seem to be just that. Characters seem to act and events unfold simply because someone wrote it that way in the script.

However, despite the documentary approach failing in the early, expository, parts of the film it really pays off towards the end. The narrative has been established, for better or worse, and now the film becomes about emotional truth. As Zane's and Max's relationship develops and races towards the inevitable cliff, the hand held camera shots, the odd angles, the extended silences and empty spaces enhance the tone and mood of the film and its story.
Overall, The Lesson despite it's early failings is a very good film that  truly captures both the tender moments between two persons as they grow closer and closer united against the world and the awkward moments as they start to drift further and further apart after being beaten down by that world at almost every turn.

Rocks in My Pockets

Comedy/Drama.
2014.
Written, directed and voiced by Signe Baumane.

 As someone who has struggled with depression for most of my life I can say first hand there might not be a lot of fun in depression but there is a lot of funny. Perhaps its the predisposition to seeing doom and gloom even when they are not there that allows for the reverse on rare occasions and for most of us those rare occasions can be enough to carry us through the bad times.
Rocks in My Pockets, the first feature-length animated film by New York based Latvian artist Signe Baumane, is a very funny film about depression and mental illness. Baumane uses her life experiences as well as those of her family to draw a world that is both unique and personal and at the same time universal. Tolstoy was only half right when he wrote: "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." The ways might be different, but the scenery and destinations are all pretty much the same.
Starting with her grandmother the film's narrative arc follows the women in Baumane's family as they make their way through life. Their worlds and circumstances might change but certain patterns start to emerge. First there's grandmother Anna, bright and educated, who starts out as a young woman with seemingly endless possibilities and ends up as a desperate mother of 8 beaten down both by the events of history and personal circumstance who dies at 50. Cause of death undetermined, but whispers of empty bottles of pills and suicide attempts lurk in the shadows. Then there is daughter Miranda, bright and artistic, who sees beauty all around her but sinks into the deep well of despair following her marriage and the birth of her child. Then there is granddaughter Linda, bright and beautiful, who is undone by an obsession with a marriage that doesn't exist anywhere other than in her imagination, and granddaughter Irbe, quiet and musical, who eventually succumbs to the voices that only she can hear, and finally there is granddaughter Signe, the thread that ties it all together, whose search for meaning leads to an obsession with ending it all.

It would have been easy to over-dramatize the above. Especially in an animated film. Baumane's film works so well simply because it's not. The animation and art are simple and almost primitive. Her language is matter of fact and straightforward. Her voice-over at times droll and ironic and at times emphatic and melancholy. The humor emerges naturally from the narrative. She captures both the absurdity and banality of normal life as well as the highs and lows of those abnormal moments and people. Baumane is not a professional actress and gives most of the credit to her voice-over coach and co-producer Sturgis Warner. They rehearsed for 7 weeks, but having seen the film I can't see it working with anyone other than Baumane doing it. Her "unprofessionalism" adds a layer of personal honesty and intimacy that might not have been there with anyone else. It is after all her story and while it might be personal and intimate we can all see parts of ourselves and those around us in it.

Amaya

Comedy/Drama.
2010.
Written and directed by Maris Martinsons.
Starring: Kaori Momoi, Andrius Mamontovas, Monie Tung, Kristine Nevarauska, and Lau Dan.

So when is a Latvian film a Latvian film? Does it have to be in Latvian, with Latvian actors and take place in Latvia and have something to do with being Latvian? Directly or indirectly? No matter how remote?

Amaya takes place in Hong Kong. It stars Andrius Mamontovas (Lithuanian) and Kaori Momoi (Japanese). The dialogue is mostly in English and Cantonese. Its written and directed by Maris Martinsons (a Latvian, but one who has been living in Lithuania since 1991). Then again, Martinsons did recently move back to Latvia and the film has been selected as Latvia’s entry for the 2010 Academy Awards. That’s good enough for me.

Amaya is part Lost in Translation, part travelogue, and parts other. The story follows several characters who at the onset seem to have nothing in common. There’s Paul, the seemingly lonely and lost traveler who finds himself in Hong Kong. There’s Amaya and her husband stuck in the routine rut of everyday life. There’s Amaya’s brother in-law Tao who owns a massage parlor and gives classes on the side. We don’t really know much about the characters. Martinsons keeps the back stories and exposition to a minimum and allows their stories to unfold slowly. The film lives in the present and in the now and that’s its greatest strength. Its basically a journey of self-discovery. We discover the characters as they discover themselves.

Amaya will not be everyone’s cup of tea. The pacing can be slow and the motivations of the characters unclear. Its like traveling alone to a foreign place. Confronted with unfamiliar surroundings, tastes, smells and sounds one tends to first withdraw inward. The tendency is to stick to the grounds of wherever its is you are staying or at least the immediate vicinity. But, if you can overcome that first shock and are willing to start venturing a bit further, no matter how slowly, the rewards of what can be discovered are well worth it. Not only about the location, but about yourself.

Vogelfrei

Drama. 2007.

Written and Directed by: Janis Kalejs (segment "childhood"), Janis Putnins (segment "Adulthood"), Gatis Smits (segment "Youth"), Anna Viduleja (segment "Old").

Starring: Igors Suhoverhovs, Karlis Spravniks, Ints Teterovskis, Liubomiras Lauciavicius, Emilija Leiskalne, Irena Tjunina, Tatjana Jansone-Nazarova, Armands Reinfelds, Girts Krumins.

As a rule I am not a big fan of omnibus or anthology films (a single film where different segments are directed by different directors). Usually they are based on a single premise and you either buy the premise or you don't. They tend to be gimmicky. Often they're basically exercises in style not really concerned that much with narrative or storytelling as they are with style and technique. The director's primary goal is to set the overall tenor, mood and pacing of a film. No matter how in sync the directors you always end up with uneven segments. Some fit and some don't. Some are better and some are worse. And that's by design. Otherwise why make an omnibus film. They might be fun to make for those making them, but often not quite as much fun to watch. You either want to skip some segments or wish other segments were longer and you could see more.

The premise of Vogelfrei is fairly simple and promising, four directors tell the story of a single man as he goes through life's stages. As the man goes through life each director, in theory, would bring a slightly different view of his life. As the man changes, so will the film.

The first segment, Childhood directed by Janis Kalejs, introduces us to Teodors. Teodors is a child who seems to, as most children that age, still be finding his way around the world. He seems to be a natural leader who attracts others, but is never quite comfortable with the attention and the demands of social interaction. He doesn't shy away from contact, but it has to be on his own terms. He seems most comfortable and free when he is on his own.

The second segment, Youth directed by Gatis Smits, shows us Teodor as a young man who seems to posses all of the qualities of a young man at his prime. He is good looking and seems to attract others. He is an exceptional hockey player who seems to be flawless on the ice. But despite all of that he seems lost and alienated from everything around him. He seems unsure of himself in any social settings. Not sure of what to say or do. He longs for companionship but isn't sure of how to go about it. The only place where he seems to find himself and solace is on the ice while skating circles around his competition. As confident and skilled as he seems on the slippery ice, its the seemingly solid footing of the world outside of the skating rink that gives him the most problems.

The third segment, Adulthood directed by Janis Putnins, shows us Teodors as a successful business man. He has a fabulous apartment, a housekeeper, a successfull and beautiful girlfriend. He seems to enjoy all of the trappings of a man who has made it and lacks for nothing material, but again seems lost and unsure of his path in life. The existential void in his life is a gaping hole which no matter what he does he can't fill. No matter how many hours he spends at the gym, or at the piano, or in bars trying to pick up attractive women he hungers for something which he just can't seem to sate no matter what he tries to do. This is a man who on the surface has everything he could possible desire, but who is haunted by some unexplained demons just below the surface which drive and torment him. He is a man who should be at peace with his surroundings, but is anything but.

The last segment, Old directed by Anna Viduleja, shows us Teodor as a man finally at peace with himself. Teodors has left the trappings of the big city for the country side where he is now an organist in a small rural church and also acts as a bird guide and hunter for some well heeled big city folk. Teodors is a man of few words who doesn't seem to care what other people think of him or whether or not they need him. He seems to have finally found both himself and the path which he wants to pursue.

Overall, Vogelfrei almost works as a film. Unfortunately, the weakest segment, and the one which needed to be the strongest, is Adulthood. While the transition from Child to Youth seems seamless, the transition from Youth to Adult seems forced and not exactly clear. While you can see the Child in the Youth you can't really see the Youth in the Man. We aren't really sure of how the Youth became the Man he is. The choices seem arbitrary and forced. Yes, this is still the same alienated child/man we saw in the previous segments, but why? We know its in the script and the character has the same name, but he seems to have nothing in common with what came before. The film's saving grace, however, is the last segment. In Old we can again see the Child and Youth in the eyes of the aging Teodors. It makes sense that they would become the man we now see on the screen. Its this last segment which redeems the film and makes it worthwhile watching.

Cinema Riga

Aleksejs Tapinsh often offers interesting and revealing perspectives on Latvia. He doesn't often venture into the world of Latvian cinema, however. Here's one time when he does. All About Kino Riga.

http://allaboutlatvia.com/article/701/the-splendid-palace/

Zvejnieka Dels (The Fisherman's Son)

Drama. 1939.
Directed by Vilis Lapenieks.
Written by Vilis Lacis.
Starring: Peteris Lucis, Nina Melbarde, Haralds Vazdiks, Evalds Valters and Roberts Berzins.

"Zvejnieka Dels" (The Fisherman's Son) is a remarkable film when considered in the
context of the historical period in which it was made and the two people who were primarily responsible for its making. It was made in the shadow of the emerging Soviet Union and a newly resurgent and bellicose Germany, both previous colonial powers that had at various times ruled over Latvia. It was independent Latvia's first full-length feature film and, at the time, it's largest budgeted production. It's actors and filmmakers were some of the best the nation had to offer. It was released in 1939. The following year Latvia would be swallowed up in the turmoil of World War II, alternately occupied by both Germany and the Soviet Union. It wouldn't regain its independence until the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. The director, Vilis Lapinieks, would eventually have to flee Latvia for the West, where he and his son would go on to respectable Hollywood careers, to escape Soviet persecution. The writer, Vilis Lacis, would become occupied Latvia's Minister of the Interior under the Soviets. Neither lived to see Latvia independent again.
Even without the historical background the film stands on its own merits. To the modern eye it might seem dated and a bit overblown, but taken in the context of the times, it is really a marvel to watch. Full of realistic characters, eye-catching cinematography, and an earnest look at the issues of the time.
The story uses the universal themes of an individual triumphing over insurmountable odds by being steadfast and uncompromising in his principles, but it also manages to capture Latvian life at the time. The emergence of Latvia from the shadow of feudalism and foreign rule and brims with the hope of a future where Latvians are the masters of their own fate. Oskars (Peteris Lucis), the fisherman’s son of the title, is set up and betrayed by his brother. After being cast out by his father he sets out to creating an independent fishing operation, one that would not be dependent on usurious middlemen.
While the story seems simple, the performance of the actors and the beautiful cinematography helps flesh it out and transforms the film into something bigger than the sum of its parts. In parts doe eyed melodrama and in parts an eye catching glimpse into a time long past.

Ziemassvetku Jampadracis (The Christmas Hullabaloo)

Children. 1993.
Directed by Varis Brasla.
Written by Alvis Lapins.
Based on a story by A. Zapere.
Starring: Dace Everss, Janis Paukstello, Inara Kalnaraja, Uldis Dumpis. Liga, Lasma, Liene and Almars Zostini, Edgars Eglitis and Kaspars Adamsons.



Great films don’t always need to be “Great” films. They don’t have to be perfect or about important topics. Sometimes they can just simply be small gentle films that tell their story with heartfelt sincerity, humor and warmth. “Ziemassvetku Jampadracis” is such a film.
“Jampadracis” tells the story of the Cirulisi, a tight knit family down on their luck, and their trials and tribulations during the Christmas season. Father Cirulitis has just been turned down for a job as a music teacher. He can barely support the family as a piano teacher with far too few students. They can’t even afford a Christmas tree. The landlord is threatening to kick them out. The kids have just received their report cards and some of the marks are not, well, they are not the kind that you would want your parents to see. The eldest son has been summoned to the police station falsely accused of hitting a policeman with a snowball. And, to top it all off the child prodigy that the two youngest kids have been entrusted with entertaining has just been injured on the eve of his concert, for which they are sure to be blamed.
What ensues is a story that is as genuine as it is warm. A wonderful tale that transcends whatever weaknesses it might have simply because it is told from the heart. The Cirulisi might be poor and going through hard times, but the love that they have for each other can triumph over anything that comes their way. In contrast, the family of the child prodigy, which has all the wealth and status that anyone could possibly need, seems lost and sad because they lack precisely the one thing that the Cirulisi have been blessed with.
The winner of several awards, among them Chicago’s and Frankfurt’s children’s film festivals, “Jampadracis” might be characterized as a children’s film, but it is a film for the child in all of us. It transcends the genre. The performances do not contain a single false note and Varis Braslas direction and the script by Alvis Lapins are exemplary.

Vella Kalpi Velna Dzirnavas (The Devil's Servants at the Devil's Mill)

Comedy/Adventure. 1972.
Directed by Aleksandrs Leimanis.
Based on the novels of Rutku Tevs.
Written by Janis Anerauds.

If "Vella Kalpi" has not aged well, then time has been even less kind to its sequel, "Vella Kalpi Velna Dzirnavas." Its a pale imitation, as most sequels are, of the original. It has a Ballywood, and it was made long before the term was coined for the Indian movie industry, feel to it. Musical number, fight scene, love scene, a gag, repeat until done. They don't really have to be related. There are those who have drawn parallels between Indian and indigenous Latvian culture. There might be something to it.
The fight scenes are poorly choreographed. The love scenes never progress past adolescent lechery and the gags are forced. The musical numbers, if you are a fan of Raimonds Pauls circa 1970, at least seem to work and it does have Eduards Pavuls in it. One of my favorite Latvian actors and he, even when hamming it up, always seems more natural than most of those who share the screen with him.
The story is your standard swashbuckler fare. The Kalpi steal the ceremonial key to Riga. The burgermeisters of Riga try to get it back. Musical number, fight scene, love scene, gag, repeat, and everything ends happily with the Kalpi emerging victorious.
As with the original "Vella Kalpi," I wish I could have seen it when it first came out. I remember looking forward to its release with the same bated breath as today's kids looked forward to "Harry Potter," but we left Latvia before it hit the screens. I am sure I would have loved it. I would have been 10 at the time.

Vella Kalpi (The Devil's Servants)

Comedy/Adventure. 1970.
Directed by Aleksandrs Leimanis.
Based on novels by Rutku Tevs.
Written by Janis Anerauds.

This is my first memory of a Latvian film. I recently saw it again. Unfortunately, it has not aged well. The cinematography is average at best, the sound is tinny, the story over-blown, and the acting hammy. About the only part of it that doesn't seem to have aged is Raymonds Pauls soundtrack. Then again, if you aren't a big fan of Pauls that isn't much to crow about either. Despite all of that, I still loved it and always will.
You have to take this film in its context. You have to see it through the eyes of an 8 year old, sitting in a darkened theater eyes glued to the screen. An eight year old who was growing up in a confusing world not of his own making. Trying to make sense of a contradictory existence that adults only whispered about. I was a Latvian and I lived in Latvia, but I lived in Soviet Latvia. Up to this point my mythology only contained Soviet heroes. They might have spoken Latvian. They might have been Latvian, but at the core they were Soviets. This was the first time I had ever seen Latvian heroes and I couldn't tear my eyes from the screen.
Basically, Vella Kalpi, is a swashbuckler. The film itself is based on the stories of Rutku Tevs, but anyone familiar with the many variants of the "Three Musketeers" will recognize the plot. It's about three young men who, motivated by both circumstance and national pride, rise up to protect Riga from a foreign invasion. They do this with strength and cunning, exhibiting all of the traits that we consider to be Latvian: Hard work, loyalty, and a sense of humor.
I am sure that the film was supposed to reinforce the Soviet ideals of being vigillant to bourgeoisie ideals, our heroes are strapping farm lads with simple tastes and simple needs, and all of the villians were either nobility or foreigners, but all I could see was Latvian heroes doing great deeds with a great bit of panache. This is who I wanted to be when I grew up.
It was my first exposure to Latvian role models outside of my own family. You might think it hyperbole, but you have to understand the total control that the Soviets had over all media. The goal of Soviet media was to produce good Soviets and not good Latvians. Perhaps the most amazing thing is that this movie managed to bypass of all of that and while on the surface seems to reinforce Soviet mythology, at its heart it is about Latvian identity and Latvian ideals

Vecas Pagastmajas Misteria (The Mystery of the Old Parish House)

Drama. 2000.
Directed and Written by Janis Streics
Starring: Renars Kaupers, Ivars Kalnins, Arturs Skrastins, Aurelija Anuzite, Eduards Pavuls, Andris Berzins, Mirdza Martinsone, Olga Drege and Inese Saulite.

It is not often that I feel I have to watch a film more than once. Not because I missed some important plot point, but because I am not sure I liked or disliked the film. I am still not sure. The films of Janis Streics have that effect on me.
“Mystery” is loosely based on real life events that took place in Krimulda, Latvia. It tells the story of an aging KGB agent Eduards Pavuls) who is forced to live the rest of his life in a house in whose basement he had tortured and murdered people during the summer of 1941. Yet, the film itself is really about much more than that. It is about filmmaking and contemporary life and the notions of guilt and responsibility.
The film is told in three parts. The first, “Mea Culpa”, is a film within a film. It is about the screening of the KGB agent’s story. In the film within the film, the KGB agent hires two construction workers (Renars Kaupers and Andris Berzins) to brick up the door to the basement to prevent the ghosts of all those he had killed from coming after him. As the two workers discover the true nature of the job they resolve to avenge all those who had died by killing the Chekist, but eventually end up saving him from killing himself. Unfortunately, no one, other than the director (Arturs Skrastins), likes the finished product and it is decided that additional scenes need to be shot to improve it
The second part, “Agnus Dei”, is about the shooting of an additional horror scene to in which the ghosts, accompanied by a spectre of Jesus nailed to a cross, chase the Chekist. One of the people hanging around the shoot, a filthy drunken bum looking for a free drink, unbeknownst to anyone is the actual real life KGB agent. During a break in the filming, while no one is watching, he nails the actor (Kaupers) playing Jesus to the actual cross.
The last part of the film, “Tuba Mirum”, is about the relationship between the young actor (Kaupers), the film’s producer (Ivars Kalnins) and the woman they both love (Aurelija Anuzite).
It all comes to a head as the sadistic producer tries to rape Anuzite, Kaupers comes to her rescue, and with the help of the ghosts of the victims of the old parish house, they triumph over all.
The major flaw of “Mystery” is that so much of the story is dependent on the fact that the film within the film is supposed to be flawed and we spend too much time watching a bad movie being made. It’s not that this is a bad idea. Films about bad films are not a new genre. I can think of two examples, “Ed Wood” and “Living in Oblivion”, that worked. However, neither of those films tried to focus on anything other than the basic premise. Streics tires to reach far beyond that by also making “Mystery” about the true life events of what happened to Latvia under Soviet occupation and all of the real and imagined scars that they left on the Latvian psyche. If he had focused on either story the film would have been much stronger. By trying to combine the two he succeeds in telling neither.
This is not to say that “Mystery” is a bad film. There are many parts of it that work and others that are downright profound. Streics’ combination of mysticism with realistic themes and execution show a great deal of talent and depth. The three parts all complement each other. You have layers upon layers of symbolism here. The real life events are often more absurd and surreal than their celluloid representation. Reality and fantasy blur and complement each other to the point where you can’t tell them apart. All in all, while some of the parts might not work, the sum is greater than the whole.

Vai Viegli But Jaunam (Is it Easy to be Young?)

Documentary. 1986.
Directed by Juris Podnieks.

The body of work of Juris Podnieks lends itself to superlatives that often sound too good to be true. His accidental death at the age of 42 deprived Latvian film of an incredible talent who would have been entering the prime of this career. His skill and talent combined to make a filmmaker who would be considered great not only in the context of Latvian film, but by any global cinematic standards. This is made even more extraordinary when taken in the context of where and when he made his films. Working under Soviet rule as a documentarian, a genre that demands clarity and truth under a government that provided neither, he managed to make singular films that withstand the test of time.
Perhaps no other film exemplifies this better than “Vai Viegli But Jaunam?” (Is it Easy to be Young?). Released in 1986 the film played to packed houses across the Soviet Union and to critical accolades in the West.
The film opens with rock concert footage spliced with coverage of the trial of several youths who were charged with the vandalism of a train at the conclusion of that concert. Podnieks contrasts the exuberance and implied rebel spirit of the concert with shots of the accused standing uncomfortably before those who would judge them. There is no question how this trial will turn out. It’s a forgone conclusion. They don’t stand a chance before these authoritarian figures who deliver the “facts” without passion or emotion and with an unwavering conviction of their “right” and “righteousness.” The accused don’t even attempt to defend themselves, not as an admission of guilt, but with a hopeless resignation to their fate. The only one of them to even attempt to raise a defense is eventually sentenced to several years of hard labor.
And so starts the exploration of whether it is easy to be young. Podnieks presents a variety of subjects in various settings providing us with a wide cross section of youths from various walks of life and divergent destinations. He creates a snapshot of time which not only captures the difficulties of growing up, but also of the Soviet Union as it was beginning to unravel under its own banality, hypocrisy and utter disregard for humanity.
We meet an eager Krishna who seems to be rebelling against what he perceives as a corrupt society, but who does so by replacing one form of blind allegiance with another. Down with Lenin Up with Hari! We meet a young punk who is exceptionally articulate, intelligent and informed, but for all of that can’t see beyond his own fatalistic nihilism. There’s a young girl who failed in her suicide attempt being browbeaten by those who are supposed to cure her and a first time filmmaker who isn’t sure of what he wants to say but knows that he needs to say something. All of them will seem familiar to those of us who can remember entering adulthood regardless of where and when we did so. But perhaps the most poignant moment in the film is the before and after interviews with young conscripts who were sent to Afghanistan. The contrasts are as shocking as those of the most cynical and broken combat veterans as seen in any documentary about war and its consequences. Watching a young veteran walking through a city filled with people on whose behalf he had believed to be fighting and in defense of a system and ideals that he no longer can share is as powerful of an image as I’ve seen on film.
Podnieks greatest strength is in getting these individuals to reveal so much of their selves. We get the feeling as if we are sitting in on a late night conversation between friends where they let down their guard and reveal their true selves and feelings. Even more extraordinary is that Podnieks got them to do so in a time and a place where public introspection of this kind often had severe consequences. A place where thinking the wrong thing was considered to be as bad, if not more so, as doing the wrong thing. The film’s greatest strength is in the way that it shows what it means to “grow up,” and answering the title question with: It never is, nor should it ever be.

Svesais (The Stranger)

Drama. 1988.
Directed by L. Locmele.
Written by Alvis Lapins.
Starring: C. Glaudans, A. Licitis, Janis Strenga and M. Berzina.

Filmed in the waning days of the Soviet Union, "Svesais" (Stranger) is part road film, part mystical exploration and part social commentary. Filled with apocalyptic imagery, desperation and aimless nihilism L. Locmele's film takes us into a nightmarish world of alcoholism as seen through the eyes of a child who is losing his father to the bottle.
Having run out of options and tired of being embarrassed by his father, young Zigis (C. Glaudans) attempts to travel from Cesis, by whatever means available, to meet Zila Kalnu Marta, a real life faith healer played by Marta herself, in the hopes of finding a cure for his father. On the road to and back from Zilkalns Zigis runs into a cross section of characters representative of the stagnation that ultimately led to the collapse of the Soviet Union. From well-meaning, if ineffective social workers and policemen, to nihilistic kids who steal simply for the sake of the thrill.
The film has a documentary feel to it, but at times comes across too strong. There are only so many times you can look at images of alcoholics destitute on the streets before you become inure to the image. While flawed in many small ways, mostly because of trying to hit the audience over the head with its message, it still manages to capture a small corner of the zeitgeist of the end of the Soviet era.

Spridits Amerika vai Does it Look Like Happiness?

Documentary. 2003.
Written and directed by Ieva Salmane.
Produced by Salmane and Maris Locmelis.

Spriditis Amerika vai Does it Look Like Happiness? tries to answer an important question: Why have so many Latvians in recent years decided to leave Latvia to seek their happiness in the United States, and have they found it?
It's a much-debated question both in Latvia and wherever else more than two Latvians can be found. Spriditis (as well as another film on the same topic, Atrasts Amerika) has certainly stimulated the debate. But, other than showing that, in general, happiness is hard to find and even harder to define, the film doesn’t really answer its own question.
The fault is perhaps with the premise itself. Looking at Latvia or the United States through the eyes of those who decided to choose one over the other doesn’t really address the merits or faults of either. By definition those who left Latvia found Latvia lacking and chose the United States as a place where whatever it is that Latvia lacks can be found. Those kinds of judgments are best left to those with an objective eye with nothing at stake.
Spriditis really isn't a film about Latvia or the United States, so much as a film about individuals who seek the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and they can be found in any immigrant community regardless of county of origin or ultimate destination.
The short answer to whether they found their happiness in America is, well, really neither short nor simple. The film certainly demonstrates that for the most part they have not. But whether this was due to something intrinsic to the respective nations or the individuals in question remains unanswered. One gets the sense that they could have been just as happy or just as unhappy in either place. Their reasons might change, but the degree of either remains the same.
Spriditis is not a bad film. Other than at times comical English translation, it is technically well executed. One gets the sense of place and lives. The film flows with a natural rhythm that captures the spirit of the moment it sets out to capture. It fleshes out its background much better than Atrasts Amerika. Where Atrasts Amerika was mostly talking heads broken up by cutaways, which didn’t always add to what the heads had to say, Spriditis adds background footage that accentuates the interviews.
Overall, Spriditis offers a glimpse into the motives and introduces us to people who most of us might never otherwise meet. It's a film that captures the immigrant experience, the hardships and sacrifices, even if it doesn't really tell us anything particularly new about the place those immigrants left or the place where they now live.

Skersiela and Jaunie Laiki Skersiela (The Crossroad) and (New Times at the Crossroad)

Documentary. 1988 and 1998.
Directed and filmed by Ivars Seleckis.

The best fiction films are the ones that manage to capture some element of real life. It doesn't matter if they are set in a galaxy far, far away or taken straight from today's headlines. They feel real no matter how contrived. The best documentary films work in reverse. They take real life and give it scale and resonance that makes one forget that what we are watching is the mundane and common. They take things and events in life that most of us don't pay too much attention to or take for granted and elevate them to epic status.
Ivars Seleckis' documentaries Skersiela (Crossroad Street) and Jaunie laiki Skersiela (New Times at Crossroad Street) accomplish this with such effortless ease that one forgets that these are documentaries. They feel real and surreal at the same time. Both films take place in a small street in the Pardaugava section of Riga. The first was filmed in 1988 and the second 10 years later in 1998.
The first film slowly introduces us to the residents of Crossroad Street.
There's Julis the cab driver and his arch-enemy and neighbor, Aldis, a stone mason and part-time preacher, who has set up a what seems to be a major monument-making factory in his backyard. It's a noisy undertaking and a constant source of irritation to straight-laced Julis.
There's poor Daiga, pregnant and abandoned by her lover. She lives as an unregistered guest of her cousin in the same house as Julis, his wife and his daughter. She fears that any moment she will be kicked out into the street. The house itself was built by and belonged to her grandfather, a famous Latvian writer, during Latvia's independence. It has been turned into communal housing by the Soviets. Daiga is now nothing more than a squatter.
There's Osis, feeble-minded but gentle, who lives with his 80-year-old mother. There's Tolik, the son of a Latvian mother who was deported to Siberia and a German father whom she met and fell in love with there. He speaks only Russian and can barely move because of an untreated childhood disease he contracted in Siberia. There's Peteris and Olga, a bickering but loving, easy-going old couple who grind horseradish in their backyard for sale in the market. There's even a glimpse of the mysterious Casino Plumins tooling around in his Zigulis.
There are many more, but they all present a cross-section of Latvia and, as the title suggests, find themselves at the crossroads as a dying empire takes its last gasps. Their lives are filled with chaos and pathos. Aldis, the stone mason preacher, keeps mouthing homilies about the spiritual life while in constant pursuit of earthly rewards. Julis finds himself lost in this new chaotic world, not nostalgic for the past, but resentful at having to live in a world in which a taxi driver no longer has the same status as his enterprising stonemason neighbor. Then there is poor Daiga who, despite it all, keeps smiling through the tears.
Jaunie laiki Skersiela revisits the neighborhood 10 years later. Nothing is the same and at the same time it all seems strangely familiar.
Daiga, the helpless young woman, is now a mother with a 10-year-old son. The house from which she was kicked out is now entirely hers and she is busy making it into her little safe haven. She has a job and a man and a healthy and happy son. She is strong and vibrant and in full control of her life.
Aldis is still as devout as ever, if not more so, but his business has fallen on hard times. Racketeers have burned down his modern workshop and he now has to fight for control over his property with Galina, his father's second wife. Daiga has just turned off his water, water which he has been poaching off her pipes for his workshop all of those years.
Peteris and Olga are still making horseradish in the back yard and bickering in loving fashion. And Casino Plumins is now tooling around in a brand new Mercedes and living in a house right out of the pages of Architecture Digest with his beautiful artist wife.
A lot of old shacks on Crossroad Street are being torn down or remodeled and rebuilt. There is also a huge new addition to Crossroad Street: a mansion built by a mysterious and wealthy gypsy. Side by side we see modest, well-kept family homes with tidy gardens and run-down buildings with junk-filled yards. Times have changed mostly for the better, but in some ways for the worse. Latvia is independent and people have freedom to take control of their lives. But there is still chaos and uncertainty. People are rebuilding, but the first thing everyone seems to put around their property is a sturdy fence.
An abandoned freight train rests on the nearby railroad tracks. Everyone has to duck and walk under if they want to get to the store. Osis now receives his disability pension in lats and not rubles, but it is still barely enough to get by and perhaps even less than it was before. Tolik's health has taken a turn for the worse. And Casino Plumins, despite all of his wealth, seems sad and lost and hungry for something that he just can't reach.
The magic of Skersiela and Jaunie laiki Skerrsiela is that they allow us an entry into these peoples' lives. It's an honest look that neither glamorizes nor minimizes real life -- real life as lived by real people in extraordinary times.

Sahs Briljantu Karaliene (Chess for a Diamond Queen)

Thriller. 1973.
Directed by Aloiz Brencs.
Starring: Gunars Cilinskis, Uldis Dumpis and Lidija Pupure.

“Chess for a Diamond Queen” by Aloiz Brencs is a below average detective film that is utterly predictable and uniquely Soviet. It will be near to impossible for western audiences to relate to the stock and trade of the detective genre; understanding the motivation of the good guys and the bad guys. Then again, even for someone who has lived under Soviet rule the picture will seem a murky muddle.
A woman’s body is found in a communal apartment. Her face has been disfigured and no one is sure of the motive for her murder. Nothing seems to be missing. The primary suspect is one of her flatmates, a young woman who was overheard arguing with the victim the night before and fled to the countryside the very next day. The two detectives assigned to the case, Gunars Cilinskis and Lidija Pupure, arrest the young woman and she breaks down during interrogation and admits to striking, but not killing, the victim. Case closed? Hint: In a detective film, nine times out of ten, if a suspect is caught in the first 15 minutes of the film, and she happens to be a pretty young woman, she is innocent. Enter the attorney, Uldis Dumpis, who will prove this so.
The rest of the film proceeds in similarly predictable fashion. Characters are always in the right place at the right time to overhear that crucial clue. (A bad guy just happens to have an uncle living in the same building as one of the good guys and he just happens to be in the stairwell as an important bit of information is revealed). They are always a second too late or too early. (There is the literal scene of a fork in the road. One car goes left the other right, so that they can arrive at their destination minutes apart). Until the final climax, that is, when they seem to hit it right on the nose. In many respects this is true for most of the detective film genre. It all depends on the execution and the execution of “Chess” leaves much to be desired. On the other hand, it could be a simple case of just not being able to relate to the motivations of the characters. It is a very Soviet film.
How does it all turn out? By the end of the film you don’t much care. Hint: In detective films, when the face of a murder victim is disfigured or the body can’t be found, nine times out of ten, it is the person whose body you think it is. About the only positives about this film is the performance of the actors, primarily Cilinskis and Dumpis, and it does offer some insight into the emotional totems of the Soviet Union, unfortunately, for most viewers this will probably not be enough.

Rigas Sargi (The Defenders of Riga)

Drama. 2007.
Directed by Aigars Grauba.
Written by Lisa Eichhorn, Andrejs Ekis, Aigars Grauba, Valentin Jemeljanov, Andris Kolbergs, and Andris Kolbergs.
Starring: Uldis Dumpis, Arturs Skrastinš, Elita Klavina and Janis Reinis.

Its not often the Latvians, like most of the smaller nations of the world, get to tell their side of the story and when they do the tendency is to make up for lost time. Aigars Grauba’s Rigas Sargi (The Defenders of Riga) sets an ambitious agenda, the retelling of Latvia’s 1919 war of Independence against the forces of Russian General Pavel Bermont-Avalov and German General Graf Rüdiger von der Goltz. Defenders focuses on the pivotal battle for Riga and the events leading up to it when Latvian forces, outnumbered 5 to 1, held on to Riga on November 11, 1919. The date is now celebrated as Lacplesa Diena (Bearslayer’s Day), Latvia’s equivalent of the USA’s Veterans Day.
Like Grauba’s Baiga Vasara (Dangerous Summer) this is a big budget (at least by Latvian standards) crowd pleaser which doesn’t aim for either subtlety or historical accuracy. It aims squarely at its primarily domestic audience and plays on some of their most firmly held mythology and themes and as such delivers on all accounts. Defenders to date is Latvia’s highest domestically grossing film.
The events of November 1919 are framed by a love story between Martins (Janis Reinis) and Elza (Elita Klavina). Janis, an idealistic everyman, leaves his Elza on their wedding date to answer the Tsar’s call to defend the Russian empire (of which Latvia was a part of at the time) against German forces. As that war draws to a close Martins returns to Latvia, which by now has declared independence, and once again finds himself in the middle of a war. Elza unfortunately has gotten tired of waiting for him. While still retaining some strong feelings for him, her life, and she along with it, has changed and she’s no longer sure of her love for the idealistic Martins, who once again is preparing to leave her behind to fight in a war which most likely can cost him his life.
In Defenders Grauba again displays his talent for knowing his target audience and which emotional buttons to push. And push them he does none too subtly. The film’s characters come across as two dimensional caricatures and the script sets the story in the starkest black and white, good v. bad, us against them, terms. The us are heroic and noble. The them are either murderous goons, incompetent buffoons or devious manipulators. This is not unusual in war films, but unfortunately, while extremely satisfying for the us portion of the audience, the film probably will not find much of an audience for those who have no emotional stake in either side. Having broken the box office domestically its highly unlikely that the film will find much of an audience outside of Latvia.
Grauba, as in Vasara, certainly knows how to deliver a punch line, but the set up is unfortunately lacking. And it’s the set up which makes punch lines most effective. His actors don’t have much to work with, or perhaps its better to say that they have too much to work with. The script expects them to play to the last row in the house, and at that to the one person who sits in that row who is hard of hearing and near sighted, and play they do. The cast delivers as well as it can. There is real chemistry between the actors and when the script works, usually during its smaller moments which are unfortunately too few, the story comes alive and transcends its two dimensional themes.
Overall, Defenders is a better film than Vasara and Grauba certainly shows promise. If not necessarily as a writer and director then perhaps as a producer. As a side note, it would be interesting to see Grauba working as a producer for such Latvian directors as Varis Brasla (Ziemassvetku Jampadracis) or Viesturs Kairiss (Leaving by the Way). By Latvian standards this is an epic film with a budget of $4 million and Grauba milks it for its worth. While by Hollywood’s standards, where the average cost of a film can run over $50,000,000, this wouldn’t qualify it even as a low budget indy, but by local standards its about as good as it can get. Too bad that once it leaves the friendly confines of its domestic market it will be lost on the global stage as a solid B film which international audiences wont find of much of interest since they have no emotional investment in the subject matter.

Pie Bagatas Kundzes (At the Rich Lady's)

Comedy/Drama. 1969.
Directed by Leonids Leimanis.
Based on a novel by Andrejs Upitis.
Starring: Edurds Pavuls, Karlis Sebris, Liga Liepina and Zigrida Stungure.

Actor Eduards Pavuls is one of Latvia’s best known and celebrated actors. “Pie Bagatas Kundzes” is perhaps his best film. Not unlike a Marlon Brando he can steal a film in just a few scenes as he did in “Baiga Vasara” or without the proper reins he can ham it up as he did in “Vecas Pagastmajas Misteria”. Leonids Leimanis is one of Latvia’s most celebrated directors. The combination of the two makes “Bagata Kundze” (“At the Rich Lady’s”) a film in the tradition of such neo-realist classics as “Umberto D.” and “The Bicycle Thief”. Okay, maybe not that great, but it is a very good film with one tiny flaw. We will get to the flaw at the end.
In “Bagata Kundze” Pavuls plays Kurmis; an unemployed French teacher caught up in the turmoil of 1920’s Latvia. Reduced to pushing a dray cart for a living he shares a room with an elderly couple who make ends meet by doing other peoples laundry. His decency and work ethic catch the eye of the owner of a newspaper stand (Zigrida Stungure). She has visions of grandeur. Her husband has just started a new political party (referred to in the film as number 49 after it’s position on the voting rolls, and, yes, there are 48 other parties) and greener days are coming. And when they do come, Kurmis along with his friend Fredis (Karlis Sebris) get swept up in the wake of the now Rich Lady. Eventually, she hires Kurmis as her butler/handyman.
In the meantime, Emma (Liga Liepina), the daughter of the elderly couple, is released from prison after doing time for stealing. Emma is a young woman of strong will but with a weakness for things out of her reach. Unbroken and unbowed she returns home facing a return to jail if she doesn’t find a job at a time when no jobs are to be found. Kurmis, who has fallen in love with Emma, cons the rich lady into hiring her as a maid.
The story is told with acidic humor and great performances. Leimanis gets the most out of his cast and setting. Zigrida Stungure is great as the neurotic rich lady who can neither pronounce the name of the piano she has just purchased with her newfound wealth nor play it. Liga Liepina adds just the right note of anger to her performance and Karlis Sebris is perfect as simple-minded Fredis who even while trying to steal some cigarettes can’t stop apologizing.
The cornerstone of the film, however, is Pavuls. A great actor when he wants to be and in this film he seems to want it. Kurmis is a decent man in a world filled with only the haves and the have-nots. And more often than not, the haves are the ones who simply yell the loudest and get the most. Kurmis might bend, but he never yells.
Ah, yes. The flaw. This might only bother those of us who grew to despise the Soviet Union and Communism for all the woes it brought to Latvia. “Bagata Kundze” was filmed in 1969 in the Soviet Union and just like “Ceplis”, another film starring Pavuls, seems heavy handed at times. Latvia in the 20’s was certainly a chaotic place. Not unlike today’s Latvia, seems as if a new political party would spring up every day. Unemployment was high and corruption ruled the day. The people were desperate for a leader or a party to emerge from the mess that could lead the nation back to stability and prosperity. In “Bagata Kundze” that party could of course be only the Communist party. The symbolism doesn’t much bother me, but it might bother some of the older generation, especially those who escaped Latvia during the war. “The Bicycle Thief”, “Uberto D.” and the “Grapes of Wrath”, for example, had similar motifs and are still great films. While “Bagata Kundze” isn’t quite in that league, it has its moments and deserves to be seen.

Pa Celam Aizejot (Leaving by the Way)

Drama. 2001.
Directed by Viesturs Kairiss.
Written by Kaspars Odins. Based on a story by Sudrabu Edzus.
Starring: Davis Bergs, Andris Keiss, Guna Zarina, Elita Klavina, Liga Cizevska, Eriks Vilsons.

“Pa Celam Aizejot” (Leaving by the Way) is a lyrical and mystical film that is hampered at times by uneven performances, but bolstered by excellent direction from Viesturs Kairiss. The winner of the 2002 Lielais Kristaps (Latvia’s equivalent of the Oscar), and based on the classic Latvian story Dullais Dauka (Crazy Dauka) by Sudraba Edzus, Leaving transports the viewer into a world filled with beauty and heartbreaking tragedy. It transforms a fanciful fairy tale filled with symbolism to the present without losing a single beat or softening its mystical approach. The setting and characters might be “modern”, but the forces that drive them are as old as love and jealousy, curiosity and faith.
Set in a Latgalian village “Leaving” follows the lives of the village’s inhabitants in the wake of a tragic event: the loss at sea and presumed drowning of Ivars (Andris Keiss), husband of Ilga (Elita Klavina) and father of Dauka (Davis Bergs) and Liga (Liga Cizevska). Ilga is so overcome with grief that she can’t bring herself to tell her children of the death of their father. This is her way of not only protecting them, but also of shielding herself. Despite her best efforts, however, all of them have to deal with the same thing, their longing for someone (or something) whom they love but who is out of reach. Maybe forever. Each copes in their own way. Ilga has an affair with Viktor (Eriks Vilsons), a local married man, Dauka skips school and Liga often runs away from home.
In many ways it’s a tried and true dramatic formula no different from countless other films which have traversed similar tragic terrain and some audiences might be turned off by a story that starts out unhappy and ends unhappier. What separates this film from the pack is it’s poignant lyricism and mystical approach to the subject matter, and, in a manner of speaking, it’s very “Latvianess”. Ilga might be having a run of the mill tawdry affair, but the wife (Ruta played by Guna Zarina) of Ilga’s lover happens to be not only the local postmistress, but also a practicing witch and healer to whom quite a few of the villagers turn for aid and comfort. Or to deny others aid and comfort as the need arises. There’s magic, but it’s neither black nor white. When Dauka skips school it’s not to watch TV, but to hike through the forest while having imaginary (or are they?) conversations with his father. When Liga runs away she melts into the countryside like a woodland nymph. All of this is handled with such everyday matter of factness that it seems as real and natural as using a phone or riding in a car. When Ruta dances naked at midnight in the middle of a field to ensure that a potion she has prepared will accomplish what’s needed, it seems as normal and familiar as when earlier in the day she delivers a telegram.
“Leaving” is not a perfect film, but it’s not trying to be. It’s not really interested in telling a story or following a linear narrative so much as desiring to capture a mood or a feeling. It’s a film that, supplemented by rich and lush cinematography from Janis Eglitis and almost seamless editing by Juta Brante, shows great promise for Kairiss. This was his feature-length debut, and hopefully another step in what will be a long and prolific career.

Pa Balta Furgona Pedam (On the Trail of the White Lorry)

Children. 1991.
Directed by Olegs Rozenbergs.
Written by Alvis Lapins.
Starring: Kalvis Berzins, Janis Pencis and Normunds Apinis.

The beauty of children's films as a genre, and one of its major drawbacks, at least for adult viewers, is that the suspension of disbelief is a given. Children have no problem with accepting things and situations that adults would question.
"Pa Balta Furgona Pedam" (On the Trail of the White Lorry) succeeds, and fails, due to this simple quirk. Furgons has all the elements of a rollicking tale; hidden treasure, Saint Bernard puppies, cute kids, mystery, chases and adult villains that make Cruela DeVille seem nice. Sadly the acting, mostly of the adult cast, is so hammy that for adults it will be difficult to look past it. Kids on the other hand will probably enjoy the film for what it is, a simple tale of good over evil.
Three neighborhood friends in early post-Soviet Latvia have their eyes on a litter of Saint Bernard puppies. The problem is that the owner of the puppies isn't willing to just simply give them away. This is the newly independent capitalist Latvia and for each thing there is a price. A price that the kids can't meet, but the main bad guy who earns part of his living by selling Saint Bernard fur hats can. When the kids discover some pieces of jewelry hidden in the frame of an old bed salvation seems near at hand. Then the bed disappears. And the chase is on.
The kids are great in their roles doing the things that kids do. Unfortunately, the over emoting adult cast drags the film so far down that even the kids performances can't raise it back up.