It
is strange to think widespread belief in fairies (“zanas” in traditional
Albanian lore), curses, and witches persists in a modern European. Such seems
to be the case in Kosovo, but it is really haunted by post-traumatic stress and
the still-raw memories of Serbian war crimes. Lume Kelmendi’s torments are
probably more psychological than supernatural, but that most likely means the
Albanian Kosovar’s pain is even more acute in Antoneta Kastrati’s Zana, Kosovo’s
official international Academy submission, which screens during the 2020 Palm Springs International Film Festival.
Ever
since their daughter was killed during the Kosovo War, Lume and her husband
Ilir have struggled to conceive another child. He mostly accepts the situation
with grim resolve, but his mother is so anxious for another grandchild, she is
openly exploring the possibilities of arranging a second (concurrent) wife for
him. That puts a great deal of pressure on Lume, who dutifully allows her
mother-in-law to drag her to specialists, faith healers, and witches.
Technically,
Lume is physically healthy, but she is clearly unwell psychologically and
emotionally. Yet, her husband, parents, and in-laws seem bizarrely lacking in
empathy, even though they fully understand what happened to her and share her
loss. Granted, Kastrati is also clearly trying to depict the sexism of
traditional rural communities, but it is still hard to reconcile their blithe
indifference with the truth as we suspect it, which will be duly confirmed in
time.
Indeed,
none of the film’s revelations are likely to surprise viewers, but that is
hardly the point. Instead, it is all about the corrosive effects of grief and
misplaced guilt. As Lume, Adriana Matoshi is quietly devastating. This is a
slow-burning, deceptively reserved performance, but it lands like a load of
bricks dropped from a crane. It is sharply intelligent contrast to the sort of
loud and messy, wailing and flailing we would expect from a shtick-maven like
Meryl Streep. It is deeply powerful and uncompromising work.
Frankly,
nobody else really holds up to her, except maybe Cun Lacji, who is chillingly
fierce as her father in key scenes late in the picture. It is highly doubtful Zana
will ever screen in Serbia or the ethnically cleansed districts in Bosnia-Herzegovina,
but it would not be surprising if its reception was somewhat mixed in its
native Kosovo.
This
is a tough, harrowing film, but it is well-crafted and strikingly lensed by
Sevdije Kastrati. In fact, some of Kastrati sisters’ final images are
absolutely overwhelming. It is a worthy and important cinematic statement, but some
of the dramatic circumstances will trouble viewers in a distracting way.
Recommended for its bracing depiction of the lingering anguish resulting from
war crimes, Zana screens tomorrow (1/4), Sunday (1/5), and the following
Saturday (1/11), as part of this year’s PSIFF.
