Preliminary results of the Locarno International Film Festival

On August 12, prizes will be awarded to the winners of the competitive programs of the international film festival in Locarno. Summing up the preliminary results of the review Andrey Plakhov.

Fundamental Truths of the Lake is a three and a half hour black and white film by Filipino icon Lav Diaz. Instead of a clue, the false detective offers a tangle of insoluble socio-political, moral and environmental issues in return. And ultimately, existential.

Police Lieutenant Papauran is hard at work digging into the 15-year-old case of the disappearance of a young beauty, model and activist who was the face of an environmental campaign to protect the Philippine eagle, an endangered bird that has become a national symbol. The authorities buried this case a long time ago, following the principle “we obey the order, not the law.” At this time, President Rodrigo Duterte, under the guise of a war on the drug mafia, unfolds terror and withdraws the Philippines from the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court.

The stubborn hero, who has already left the law enforcement agencies, continues the investigation at his own peril and risk, plunging into a maelstrom of corruption and misogyny. Everything happens in the vicinity of a mystical lake, killed by poachers, and a volcano that avenges the desecration of nature. This volcano is another symbol of the tortured soul of the country. After the eruption, the irrepressible lieutenant finds himself in a post-apocalyptic landscape of total squalor and poverty, and the film in the second half begins to resemble the parables of Kurosawa and Bergman. And yet it is directly connected with the author’s aesthetics of Diaz, and with the realities of today’s Philippines. Can the director just as openly say what he thinks about the newly elected new president – the son of the dictator Marcos who ruled the country for two decades?

From the outside, it is difficult to judge how wide the censorship limits of what is permitted in the Philippines are, but in any case, they cannot be compared with the draconian conditions under which filmmakers work in Iran. All the more surprising is the appearance of a film like Critical Zone. Director Ali Ahmadzadeh filmed it semi-legally, often with a hidden camera, in unofficial areas of Tehran and its environs, among pariahs and outcasts, which in itself is a terrible taboo. It is unlikely that the censors were delighted by the image of the main character – the “angel” of this hell, a drug dealer who brings comfort to the unfortunate in the form of a free package of powder or antidote. Amazing night shots of secret car routes through the underworld, guided by GPS, accompanied by a frantic drive and a sense of danger. They create the image of a parallel reality, so typical of totalitarian societies, and evoke the impression of an implicitly maturing explosion.

The “critical zone” came to Locarno in defiance of the Iranian authorities. Subjected to repression at home, Ali Ahmadzade received a grant in Germany, but the German migration services refused him a Schengen visa and put a red mark on him. As a result, he was also banned from entering Switzerland, so the film was presented in Locarno by its producer Sina Atayyan Dena. In an interview with a festival magazine, he is indignant at European hypocrisy: while the protest director is declared persona non grata in Europe, the children of Iranian mullahs are being treated in German hospitals.

Sina Atayyan Dena emigrated from Iran after he ended up in the same Locarno in 2015 and Iranian officials urged him to boycott this “Zionist festival”. And the reason was the retrospective of Israeli cinema that was held at that time. Meanwhile, it is difficult to find another cinematography that would allow itself so much skepticism and criticism of its state. Here’s at least this year’s competition film “The Disappearing Soldier” by Dany Rosenberg. 18-year-old Shlomi flees the fighting zone in the Gaza Strip, unable to bear the separation from his girlfriend. During the day, he hangs out in humid, hot Tel Aviv until the consequences of his infantile act reach him. The IDF decided that Shlomi had been kidnapped and launched a brutal shelling of Palestinian territory with numerous victims, including children. Knowing better than many what war is, the Israelis are ahead in terms of the boldness of the artistic solution of the topic. After all, The Disappeared Soldier is an example of the tragicomedy genre: the absurd and funny go hand in hand with the terrible.

The Ukrainian film “Steppe” was filmed in the Sumy region before February 2022, and its action is completely relegated to the post-Soviet past that has already become history. The protagonist, an intelligent middle-aged man, comes to his native village to his dying mother and meets there mostly old men and women of her age. Their whole life is a series of torment, hunger, overwork. A village mired in the snow and slush of the autumn-winter season dies along with its inhabitants, and this beautifully shot film is a melancholy farewell to Atlantis fading into oblivion.

The feature debut of Marina Vroda (who was awarded the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival for her short film Cross) recalls the traditions of Ukrainian poetic cinema of the Soviet period, such as films such as Leonid Osyka’s Stone Cross. Conceived in one era, “Steppe” came out in a completely different one, but the fact remains that the film fit into a series of other competition entries, made without self-censorship and opportunism.

There were no Russian films in the main competitive programs. A year ago, Alexander Sokurov’s “Fairy Tale” was shown here and its independent spirit was appreciated. Until now, she has not received a rental in Russia.