After returning home

Auksė Kancerevičiūtė
2019 Septermbet 20 d.

In Lithuanian narrative films there increasing attempt to reconstruct its recent past and look back at the first years of Independence. This probably comes naturally, as, in recent years, directors are making their debut, who were growing up and maturing in that chaotic period of change, which (I think) is etched heavily in their memory. However, reality, past or present, is a tough nut to crack, so every attempt to comprehend it, to give a sense to it, requires courage – personal and creative. Even a slightest inaccuracy or innocent lie in the name of art will be immediately noticed – many people remember how they lived then, what problems they encountered, what dreams they cherished. Dreams about the former home expropriated during Soviet repressions, search for one’s own identity, became an important leitmotif of the debut feature “Motherland” by the emigrant director Tomas Vengris. 

The English title of the film is more revealing, actually, because for the protagonist, teenager Kovas (Matas Metlevski), Lithuania, first of all, is his mother’s land – the lost paradise to which she is so longing to return. The boy’s mother, Viktorija (Severija Janušauskaitė), was banished from this paradise when she was still little, and he himself had only heard something from the stories, so they both were taken by the flow of time and historical circumstances to America, and they have little understanding of what is really going on in the country that miraculously got liberated from occupation. Using autobiographical moments, Tomas Vengris accurately conveys the realities of 1992 in the eyes of an outsider onlooker – without any pathos, irony or excessive dramatization. Although Kovas – the director’s alter ego – is more interested in pornographic magazines and dating, he is faithfully accompanying his mother in a peculiar odyssey, or, rather, in a big reckless adventure. What he sees through the window of a car on the way from the airport is far from looking like a fairytale space – uniformly grey apartment blocks, a strange, uninviting city. 

The atmosphere of harshness and estrangement does not disappear even when pretending to be friendly relatives throw a party on the occasion of homecoming of the “Americans” – a scene painfully familiar – as if everybody is close, they are sharing salads and giving toasts, but there is not much sincerity in their actions. Watching through the eyes of Kovas, this is a ludicrous performance played by adults in which they are silent about essential things, and the overall picture can be made up only from separate fragments or all-revealing body language. Although the teenager looks very closely at the environment and new acquaintances, his own emotions remain “locked” under the mask of indifference. Most of the time, he behaves as others expect of him, whether it be his mother’s call for sharing the chewing gum with the yard’s children, or the efforts of Romas (Darius Gumauskas), who presented himself quickly to see his former “sweetheart”, to make the teenager “a man” by offering him to drink some vodka or to try shooting from a hunting rifle. Kovas does not resist the whims of the elders, but does everything mechanically, passively; he is not moved by the news of his parents’ divorce or his mother’s confession that she intends to stay and start a new life at the homestead that no one is going to give back to her.

The silent alienation of the teenager takes too long to understand what is going on inside him, how he is ultimately affected by the stay in his ancestral land, not yet cured from the post-Soviet syndrome. Only Romas’ daughter (Barbora Bareikytė), total opposite of Kovas, sort of revives the introverted boy immersed in the observation of those around him. Although Bareikytė appears episodically, she stands out with her expressiveness, unexpected but very natural reactions – there’s a memorable scene where she throws Kovas’ sneakers to the goat in revenge for the chewing gum entangled in her hair, and when things start turning towards friendship, she steals her father’s Zhiguli so that she would teach Kovas to drive in the midst of flowering fields. These innocent romps, the fragile bond of teenagers unfold as an antithesis to the viscousness of the adult world, to the lies which have enlaced them. 

The five decades of totalitarianism that purposefully shaped mankurts, did not pass without a trace, as is convincingly evidenced by the characters of Romas and his suspicious fellow businessman (Linas Ryškus), who took over Victoria’s inheritance matters. Their duplicity, their attempts to “help” a woman who poorly understands the situation, while in reality – cynical manipulation for their own gain – are typical features of Homo Sovieticus, instilled by the conformist system. Victoria, who gets caught up in this confusing web, has little chance. The shifty guys are convincing her that everything will be ok, that the Russian-speaking family will sooner or later leave her parents’ house which is hopelessly dilapidated and worn down, and she is increasingly sinking into a state of futility, gradually realizing that her big dream is completely unrealistic.

The role played by Severija Janušauskaitė will probably be mentioned and analysed more than once - with such inner strength she conveys her heroine’s reckless courage and determination, rising tension, bitterness, and finally – liberation from the circumstances that shackle her. In the end, they stay again just the two of them – mother and son, but this time they are uninhibited by anybody, they can breathe freely the fresh air of the motherland. Nature of extraordinary beauty is like a contrast to the miserable urban existence, the meanness of people. Of course, this is the great merit of Audrius Kemežys, the departed cameraman, for his ability to portray the vibrations of the spirit in pictorial, poetic shots. The cinematic picture of the 90’s features also authentic, carefully selected details (even a small piece of household soap in the bathroom is a reminder that it was almost the only hygiene agent available at the time), and precision editing, and the soundtrack featuring songs by Džordana Butkutė and other hit songs of that period. The recent past comes to life through the signs that have shaped our national identity, trying to figure out what they mean for the film’s author himself, and what really connects him to the country, resonantly called “Motherland”.

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