SBIFF ’26: Perla

One of the worst things about oppressive regimes is the way they corrupt and break people. When Perla Adamova fled Czechoslovakia after the 1968 Soviet Invasion, she never looked back (for reasons that will be painfully understandable). Yet, she remained deeply damaged. Her former lover Andrej didn’t get away. He represents a hefty share of the crushing guilt she carries. Consequently, it is hard for her to refuse when Andrej demands she bring their daughter Julia for a visit, even though she knows she shouldn’t. Indeed, going home will be emotionally and physically perilous in director-screenwriter Alexandra Makarova’s Perla, which screens at the 2026 Santa Barbara International Film Festival.

Adamova is a bit of a neurotic wreck, but that is perfectly acceptable to the Vienna art scene. Marrying Josef Hoffmann also brings some stability, even though she met him when he was dating her close friend. Then Andrej calls. She tries to deflect her guilt, credibly arguing everything she did, she did for their daughter. Then he plays his fatal tumor card.

Except—not really a spoiler alert—Andrej admits he lied as soon as she arrives with Hoffmann and Julia. Thanks to her husband’s resources, she entered the country with forged Austrian papers. Obviously, they need to keep a low profile. It is also increasingly evident that the trip is not healthy for Julia. Yet, Adamova displays a dangerous rush of excitement for the old sights and sounds of her Slovak homeland, including Andrej. If you suspect it will end badly, you have at least a basic grasp of the nature of early 1980s Warsaw Pact Captive Nations.

Makarova dedicated the film to her grandmother, but Adamova is unambiguously modeled on her mother, an expat artist who lived in Vienna. Both she and Andrej often act in selfish and even rather awful ways. Yet, Makarova always finds ways to remind viewers that their actions are the direct result of abuse they suffered. Indeed, there is an important scene that provides the key to unlock the entire film, but it is uncomfortable to watch because of its brutality, despite Adamova’s murky lighting and framing.

Rebeka Polakova gives a brave and relentlessly honest performance as Adamova. Clearly, she is not afraid to risk losing viewers’ sympathy. Nevertheless, there is something keenly human about her self-destructive impulses. Conversely, Simon Schwartz is achingly earnest as Hoffmann. He definitely serves as the film’s humanistic anchor. Yet, Nol Czuczor’s portrayal of Andrej might be most haunting, because he is so profoundly sad and emotionally injured.

People use the term “trauma” lightly, but Makarova shows what trauma really means. She also captures the chilling paranoia of the early 1980s socialist regime. At times, it is a hard film to watch, but it is always truthful and heartfelt. Very highly recommended, Perla screens this afternoon (2/5) and Saturday (2/7), as part of this year’s Santa Barbara International Film Festival.