Submitted by Bulgaria: Triumph

G.K. Chesterton's famous words: “When men chose not to believe in God, they do not thereafter believe in nothing, they then become capable of believing anything” certainly applied to the godless Bulgarian Communists. Having rebranded themselves as Socialists after the break-up of the USSR, they spent two years digging a hole to nowhere, based on the contradictory advice of psychics. Often described as Bulgaria’s “Area 51,” the Tsarichina hole was more like their version of Al Capone’s vault. The characters are fictionalized, but the Tsarichina mission is bizarrely true to history in Kristina Grozena & Petar Valchanov’s Triumph, which Bulgaria officially submitted for Oscar consideration as Best International Feature.

Evidently, while the military was digging this hole to nowhere, assorted psychics predicted it would lead to various Fortean wonders, including aliens, mythical creatures, and/or Biblical revelations. In the film, Pirina Nyagolova picks aliens and sticks with it. Somehow, she convinced General Zlatev to authorize this excavation, "Operation Triumph," promising the ancient beings could lead Bulgarian into a new golden age.

Having steadily worked her way up the chain of command, Nyagolova’s current lover is Col. Platnikov, who appears skeptical of all her New Age babble. However, Nyagolova convinced his impressionable daughter Slava that she too has psychic powers that are especially sensitive to the alien energy, or whatever.

Grozena, Valchanov, and co-screenwriter Decho Taralezhkov ruthless skewer Nyagolova’s hippy-dippy babble. Frankly, it is never clear whether she or Slava really believe their own supposed channelings. Thanks to the filmmakers’ brutal ambiguity, it is unclear whether they are conning themselves as well as the entire Bulgarian military. Yet, there apparently reaches a point where everyone gets so deeply enmeshed in the madness, they have no alternative but to pretend to believe, to justify themselves.

Again, this premise is mind-bogglingly 100% real. To its credit, the Bulgarian government took a sharp turn towards sanity in 2022 under Nikolai Denkov, but with the fall of his coalition, the Russian trolls hope to reassert their influence. Hopefully, this film reminds Bulgarians of the Pro-Russia Bulgarian Socialist Party’s past lunacy (in addition to opposing sanctions on Russia, the current Socialist Party is also seen as increasingly hostile to same-sex marriage).

EU Showcase ’22: In the Heart of the Machine

Bohemy, an inmate serving time in 1978 Communist Bulgaria, considers his best days those he spends toiling as an unpaid laborer, in a state factory, because that is his only connection to everyday human behavior. Usually, the brutality is mostly confined to the prison. However, all bets are off when the sadistic Captain Vekilsky and the notorious axe murderer “Hatchet” are there on the same fateful day in Martin Makariev’s In the Heart of the Machine, Bulgaria’s official International Oscar submission, which screens during the AFI’s European Union Film Showcase.

The complicated thing about Communist prisons is figuring out how truly guilty your fellow prisoners might be. Hatchet definitely killed his brother—and he has yet to forgive himself. However, the Lennie Small-like death-row inmate has experience with heavy equipment, so Bohemy convinces the warden, Colonel Radoev, to allow him to borrow Hatchet, to help fulfill their doubled quotas. If Bohemy (meaning “Bohemian,” his ironic prison nickname) can pull it off, he might just get a parole. Radoev is a bit corrupt, but in a pragmatic, world-weary kind of way.

Unfortunately, Vekilsky is just a brutal martinet. Yet, even he is not inclined to provoke Hatchet. Instead, he mostly focuses his wrath on Needle, another hardened criminal. However, the guard is not inclined to indulge Hatchet, when he refuses to work on his machine, until a pigeon trapped within its gears can be safely rescued. Therefore, Hatchet launches an insurrection of one, taking Vekilsky and the rookie guard Priv. Kovachky (a.k.a. “Junior”) hostage. That puts Bohemy in a real rock-and-a-hard-place situation, trapped inside the shop with Hatchet, while the military police outside, led by Captain Kozarev (the man who framed him for the murder), prepare their assault.

Machine is an unlikely mixture of gritty prison drama and symbolic fable, yet the basic premise is based on fact. There was a bird trapped in heavy machinery that inspired a defiant work-stoppage, but it was resolved with considerably less violent conflict. Of course, the corruption and abuse of the Communist era “justice” system are also very definitely based on historical realities. Bohemy was no anomaly. In many ways, he is a Bulgarian everyman representing thousands, but Alexander Sano’s grounded and conflicted portrayal makes him feels like a very real person, rather than a symbolic composite.

AFI’s EU Showcase ’14: Uncle Tony, Three Fools, and the Secret Service

High ranking secret policemen do not often get to present their own work at MoMA, but Donio Donev did. His involvement in the Bulgarian domestic intelligence service is an established fact now that his dossier has been released. However, Donev’s films really aren’t his films. It was always an open secret Anton Trayanov was the uncredited animator of beloved Bulgarian classics like The Three Fools, but Donev took all the bows on the international festival circuit. Mina Mileva & Vesela Kazakova set the record straight with Uncle Tony, Three Fools, and the Secret Service (trailer here), which screens during the AFI’s 2014 EU Film Showcase.

By all accounts, Donev really was a clever and skillful caricaturist, but he probably could not have animated a mouse if he shot 50,000 volts through it. Most Bulgarian filmmakers, especially those working in animation, knew Trayanov was the real artist responsible for some of the country’s best loved films. They also understood why his name was not on any of them. Under Communism, all of the film authority’s division heads and nearly all of the film directors were secret service agents.

Eventually, the understandably frustrated Trayanov was fired when he started complaining. For three years he survived as a construction worker for a Japanese firm building a luxury hotel in Sofia (lord knows why). He was lucky to get that gig, considering he was blackballed at every other Bulgarian state industry. Eventually, he started teaching animation at the National Academy Theater and Film Arts, where Mileva took his courses, before he was sacked again under murky circumstances.

Sadly, little has changed since the fall of Communism. The apparatchiks still jealously guard their power, but Trayanov might just get the last posthumous laugh. Although he died shortly after filming wrapped, his documentary had a record breaking theatrical run in Bulgaria. Not surprisingly, Donev’s family has threatened legal action. More troubling (if not necessarily shocking), Mileva and Kazakova have had they copyright protection revoked, award nominations rescinded, and endured a campaign of physical and emotional harassment.

It is easy to see why Uncle Tony et al touched a nerve. It addresses head on the privileges and abuses of position that have carried over from the Communist era. The case it makes on Trayanov’s behalf (and against Donev) is not just convincing. It is pretty much conclusive. In fact, there are a handful of scenes that are jaw-droppingly damning, as when Dimitar Tomov, animation chair of the National Academy, tries to convince Mileva Trayanov never taught the classes she enrolled in, through a combination of double-talk and Orwellian Newspeak. It is nearly as surreal watching an interviewer catch Donev in a telling contradiction during an archival television report. You have to wonder what happened to that poor guy.

Yet, UTTFTSS is as much a tribute to Trayanov and his films (and they really are his films) as it is an expose of institutionalized Party corruption. Despite all the wrongs done to him, Trayanov is an unflaggingly upbeat and winning presence on camera. Spending time with him is a pleasure. This is a genuinely bold documentary that will resonate with animation fans and anyone who values artistic freedom. If its cogently presented revelations do not forever change how you think of Bulgarian animation, nothing will. Highly recommended, Uncle Tony, Three Fools, and the Secret Service screens this coming Wednesday (12/17) and next Saturday (12/18), as part of the AFI’s EU Film Showcase, outside of Washington, DC.

SFIFF ’14: Soul Food Stories

It is not about collard greens or any of the staples Americans typically consider Soul Food. It is about the local cuisine that transcends religious and ethnic differences in a provincial Bulgarian hamlet, as well as the spiritual fuel that sustains the Muslim population during fasts. The villagers’ customs, foibles, prejudices, and culinary arts are quietly captured in Tonislav Hristov’s Soul Food Stories, which screens during the 2014 San Francisco International Film Festival.

The population of tiny Satovcha barely tops two thousand, but it is far from homogenous. Pomacs (long-established Bulgarian Muslims), Orthodox Christians, increasingly Evangelical Roma, and unreconstructed atheist Marxists all make up a considerable percentage of the village. Despite religious and ideological differences, Satovcha remains peaceful (so far), held together by shared meals (and arguably a common sexism).

If you like savory pastries than Bulgarian cuisine will look delicious. The women of Satovcha seem to spend all their days cooking, so they have had time to hone their skills. In contrast, the men specialize in looking so rustic and eccentric we almost overlook how appalling some of their assertions truly are. The local Communist Party hack is a case in point. He takes great pains to explain religion was not oppressed during the old regime, but it would get you fired if you were caught attending a house of worship. Okay, thanks for clearing that up.

Sadly, the Roma are (once again) the only demographic group not given a real chance to speak for themselves in Food. Instead, Hristov shows them looking understandably confused as the local Korean missionary gives a sermon in halting English that his translator only occasionally bothers to interpret for the flock. You start to wonder who is kidding whom.

Yet, by and large, Food is a hopeful film. Satovcha stands in marked contrast to experience of the former Yugoslavia. Notwithstanding the frustrations of minor apparatchiks, the fall of Communism also comes across as a good thing on balance, allowing our kind-of, sort-of POV couple to return to their traditional Pomac names and to freely practice their religion.

The productive Hristov (whose subsequent doc just premiered at Tribeca) catches some telling moments, but he is too content to amble through the bucolic town rather than setting a rigorous agenda. Wry but slight, Soul Food Stories will narrowly appeal to those who appreciate quietly quirky slice-of-life documentaries when it screens again Saturday (5/3) and Tuesday (5/6) as part of this year’s San Francisco International Film Festival.

Sundance ’14: Viktoria

She drinks Coca-Cola and uses a Statue of Liberty cigarette lighter. Obviously, Boryana’s heart is not in Bulgaria’s glorious effort to build Socialism. It is in Venice. Unfortunately, her unplanned pregnancy will stymie her secret immigration plans. It is one reason why a Cold War rages between mother and daughter in Maya Vitkova’s Viktoria, which screens at the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Life in late 1970’s Bulgaria is pretty depressed and dehumanized. Even a trip to the OBGYN is a humiliating experience, conducted in an examination room with windows open for any passerby to observe. Boryana previously used traditional methods to induce miscarriage (a lot of jumping and the like), but to no avail this time.

In addition to putting the nix on Venice, the infant Viktoria perversely becomes a propaganda tool for the state.  Not only was she born on Victory Day, she has no navel. Therefore, she is a portent of the new Socialist man of the future. No longer must women take time away from their labor for the sake of childbirth, because babies like Viktoria will surely be incubated outside their mothers.

When it comes to entitled little monsters, none can match a Communist princess. A personal favorite of Bulgarian Party secretary Todor Zhivkov, Viktoria is chauffeured to school each day, where she is given carte blanche to bully her teachers and peers alike. She even has a red phone connection direct to Zhivkov. Then one day in 1989, she becomes an ordinary kid, who nobody likes.

Despite the surreal interludes and mild magical realism, Viktoria conveys a vivid you-are-there sense of life under Communism. There is a ring of truth to it, precisely because of the absurdity. Young Viktoria’s special midriff make-up also looks quite realistic. However, the post-1989 narrative largely loses both its bite and its focus. It seems like it takes Vitkova forty minutes to never really figure out how to end it all.  Still, considering the running time is over two and a half hours, there is a good feature’s length of material that works.

While the third act might have problems, it is hardly the fault of Kalina Vitkova, who is hauntingly expressive as the twentysomething Viktoria.  Likewise, her younger sister Daria is a remarkable force as the imperious and then chastened grade school Viktoria. Yet, it is Irmena Chichikova’s Borynana who will really get under viewers’ skin, depicting a persona forced into itself by circumstances and a totalitarian state.

For the most part, the sexually frank Viktoria has the vibe of a more Spartan Unbearable Lightness of Being, with trippy flights of fantasy thrown in to convey the characters inner angst. Highly recommended, it is challenging film in terms of subject and style, but it is worth grappling with, especially its more consistent initial two hours. The first Bulgarian film selected by the Sundance Film Festival, Viktoria turned out to be a sleeper at Park City, so it is certain to have a long life ahead on the international festival circuit.

Disappearing Act V: The Boy Who was a King

It is impossible to imagine Pu Yi, China last boy emperor, successfully standing for election as the country’s head of state.  Yet, that is exactly what happened in post-Communist Bulgaria.  Andrey Paounov kind of-sort of tells the remarkable story of Simeon Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, a.k.a. Simeon II, in The Boy Who was a King (trailer here), which screens this Thursday as part of Disappearing Act V.

Born in 1936, Simeon II reigned from 1943 to 1946.  It was a short but eventful period.  Deposed by a dubious Communist backed referendum, Simeon II went into exile.  A successful businessman who married a member of the Spanish aristocracy, the King (or Tsar) continued to speak out against Communist oppression during the Captive Nation years.  When the Soviet system collapsed, he did not immediately return to Bulgaria, but he accepted a Bulgarian passport.

Much to the King’s own surprise, many Bulgarians placed their hopes for a better government in the former monarch.  Eventually, he reluctantly assumed the position of Prime Minister when his vaguely Ross Perotish center-left party was overwhelmingly swept into power.  Simeon promised to restore public integrity in 800 days.  What happened during his administration?  Politics.

Paounov gives viewers a thumbnail recap of Simeon’s life, but his approach is more impressionistic than authoritative.  More often he turns his camera on eccentric or marginalized Bulgarians, some of whom still harbor monarchist sentiments.  Others are deeply disillusioned by the former PM, including one who was inspired to get a rather crude, painful looking crown tattoo in Simeon’s honor.  There’s a good argument for the separation of tattoos and state.

At times, Paounov approach is downright weird, as when he follows a coyote donated by Simeon’s sister from the taxidermist through the streets of Sofia to the Natural History Museum.  Other times, there is method in his stylistic madness, as when he observes a meeting of the Bulgarian Communist Party held in a crummy state constructed flat.  Consisting of six or seven bitter old prunes whose claims about Simeon appear patently false based on everything Paounov has previously shown the audience, it seems unlikely the hammer-and-sickle will rise again in Bulgaria anytime soon.

Frustratingly, Boy never gives viewers enough information to pass judgment on Simeon as an elected statesman.  He certainly has a regal bearing though.  Indeed, the film’s most intriguing episodes explore the way Simeon’s roles as republican and royal complimented each other.  Sometimes fascinating and other times bemusing, The Boy Who was a King is recommended for viewers with a taste for idiosyncratic documentaries when it screens (free of charge) this coming Saturday (4/20) as Disappearing Act V continues at Bohemia National Hall on Manhattan’s Upper Eastside. 

DF ’13: Tzvetanka

Tzvetanka Gosheva was an oncology specialist forbidden to tell her patients they had cancer.  This is how medicine was practiced in Bulgaria during the Soviet era.  It wasn’t pretty.  Gosheva endured the horrors of war and subsequent absurdities of Communist oppression, living to tell the tale to her filmmaker grandson Youlian Tabakov in Tzvetanka (trailer here), which screens again today as a selection of MoMA’s 2013 Documentary Fortnight.

Born in 1926 to a prosperous shop-owner, Gosheva’s family would carry the “Bourgeoisie” label like an albatross during the Communist years.  While she recalls vivid memories of the bombings, her real experiences with terror began post-war when her father was picked up for a “brief interrogation.”  Despite eventually having both parents branded class enemies and sentenced to labor camps, Gosheva somehow was admitted to university.  She wanted medical studies but was initially accepted as an English student, which seems doubly ironic given her suspect background, but that was how the Socialist system worked.

Gosheva passed away in the late 2000’s, but she obviously left behind an extensive oral history and some surprisingly playful footage (sometime bordering on the surreal).  Tabakov does not take a traditional talking head approach.  Instead, he creates impressionistic imagery to accompany his grandmother’s recollections.  Sometimes they are rather whimsical, but probably the most striking visual is the blood droplets turning into a crimson rain (not unlike the original Shining trailer) that perfectly fit her discussion of the post-war purges and show trials her parents were caught up in.

At times, Tabakov really pushes the hipster envelope with his post-modern visual style.  However, he always gives Gosheva her full say, which ultimately keeps the film grounded in reality.  Viewers quickly learn to appreciate her resiliency and keen powers of observation.  She makes no secret of her contempt for the so-called “former Communists,” whom she calls out for deliberately undermining Bulgarian democracy.  Bulgaria will miss her, even if most of her countrymen do not realize it. 

At least Tabakov has preserved her memory and her spirit.  His Tzvetanka might be a bit eccentric as eulogies go, but avoiding the maudlin seems perfectly in keeping with its subject.  Recommended for students of the Soviet era as well as those fascinated by intensely personal family histories, Tzvetanka screens again this afternoon (2/18) as part of MoMA’s Documentary Fortnight.

Submitted By Bulgaria: Sneakers

When the youth of Bulgaria feel alienated, evidently they head to the beach.  It makes more sense than moping about a housing project.  Six disaffected slackers enjoy an idyllic retreat, but it can only last so long in Ivan Vladimirov & Valeri Yordanov’s Sneakers (trailer here), which has been selected by Bulgaria as their official foreign language Academy Award submission.

No girly-girl, Emi beats the snot out of her mother’s abusive boyfriend.  Turkish immigrant Gray has no shot with her, but he loyally follows her anyway. Eventually, they hook-up with Blackbird, a too cool to care coffeehouse performer, and his dedicated ex-boxer pal, Wee.  Having pummeled some lowlifes in a bar brawl, they are also looking for a change of scenery.  With no general plans, the four crash at the beach, where half-aspiring filmmakers Ivo and Fatso soon turn up.

The combination of a lot of booze, angst, the cute but sexually ambiguous Emi, and five guys, two of whom are very definitely attracted to her, ought to spell trouble.  Yet, whenever the film perches on the brink of conflict, the six dropouts resolve it rather simply (up until co-director-co-star Yordanov’s screenplay takes a weird climatic turn into left field).  While that might be rather appealing in the abstract, it is dramatically self-defeating.  There are also several conversations you might have to be Bulgarian—and possibly drunk—to get.

While Sneakers’ narrative is not really anything to write home about, it offers some appealing scenes of fun in the Black Sea sun.  Cinematographer Rali Raltschev deserves a citation of honor from the Bulgarian tourism bureau.  Yordanov, who made a real meathead impression in Kristina Nikolova’s Faith Love + Whiskey, acquits himself quite well, at least in front of the camera.  In fact, the ensemble performances are easily the strongest aspect of the film, with Philip Avramov and Ina Nikolova doing particularly sensitive, well-calibrated work as Blackbird and Emi, respectively.

A bit awkward at times, Sneakers is still perfectly presentable on the festival circuit, but it is most likely not bound for Oscar glory.  For professionals, it is definitely worth checking out for a look at its talented young cast.  Sneakers has screened in New York at a Bulgarian festival, but it ought to have a bit more fest action ahead of it, thanks to its Oscar contention status.

TIFF ’12: The Color of the Chameleon

Batko Stamenov is like a character in a Samizdat novel come to life, but not necessarily in a good way.  The former informer is a figure of existential absurdity rather than defiance.  He is still dangerous though, but to whom is the question in Emil Christov’s The Color of the Chameleon (trailer here), which screens during the 2012 Toronto International Film Festival.

On her deathbed, Stamenov’s mother confesses she really is his mother, whereas he had always been told she was his aunt and adoptive-mother.  This does little to develop his sense of belonging.  Stamenov is ingratiating by nature, but also reflexively deceptive—swell traits to the secret policeman who recruits the student as an informer and agent-provocateur.  Stamenov’s first assignment has him infiltrating a literary club obsessed with the underground novel Zincograph.  Like the fictional Samizdat protagonist, Stamenov also takes work in a state zinc etching plant, which happens to be a fine place to pick up some chemical know-how.

Stamenov commits many questionable acts, beginning by signing up as an informer in early 1989, when the writing was already on the soon to be toppled wall.  He has two eggs containing secret instructions should Communism fall in either Bulgaria or the Soviet Union.  This is not a good sign.  Yet, the task just seems to appeal to Stamenov for non-ideological reasons.  When terminated by the official intelligence service, he starts recruiting his own informers for a phony agency just like the protagonist of Zincograph.

Adapted from screenwriter Vladislav Todorov’s real life novel titled Zincograph, Stamenov’s anti-heroics could easily lend themselves to an outrageously over-the-top big screen treatment, but Christov’s approach is rather severe and chilly.  Frankly, it takes a while for the film to come together, as Stamenov largely creeps about unappealingly.  However, the third act is an intrigue-fueled dozy, making some razor-sharp points about the state of post-Communist Bulgaria in between the twists and turns.

Chameleon is a film for everyone who enjoys movie references (remember the Bulgarian couple in Casablanca?), thinly veiled critiques of politicians you will never recognize, and liberal helpings of paranoid gamesmanship.  There is also an unhealthy preoccupation (as if there were any other kind) with the evil effects of “onanism.”  Such is Communism’s continuing legacy for Stamenov.

Looking a lot like a Bulgarian Jude Law, pop star Ruscen Vidinliev’s Stamenov is one cold fish, but he is convincingly calculating and sociopathic.  He keeps the film moving along well enough, while the supporting cast provides plenty of color.  Rousy Chanev brings the right sort of Machiavellian charisma to bear as Stamenov’s former handler, while Deyan Donkov is notably intense and just plain interesting looking as the Mr. Clean hardball fixer pursuing the freelance saboteur.

The politics of Chameleon are rather ambiguous, particularly for viewers not deeply steeped in the Bulgarian scene.  Yet, the lingering toxicity of the old regime is unmistakable.  Clearly, it spawned a culture of lies and deception that Todorov and Christov argue cannot be easily shrugged off.  A slow starter very much worth sticking with, The Color of the Chameleon is recommended for literate, “free-thinking” viewers when it screens again this coming Sunday morning (9/16) as part of this year’s TIFF.

SXSW & IFC Festival Direct: Zift

Film Noir and Socialist Realism both share a kind of economic determinism, in which financial need often leads to tragedy. Director Javor Gardev strikingly blends both genres, employing the severe Brutalist architecture of Sofia and the Kafkaesque mechanisms of Communism, to create a uniquely Bulgarian film noir. The resulting twilight world is a nightmare for an ex-con dubbed “The Moth,” in Gardev’s Zift (trailer here), which screens Thursday at the SXSW Film Festival (in Austin, TX) and will be available on IFC’s Festival Direct, now through June 11th.

Before the Communist coup of 1944, The Moth had a beautiful girlfriend, Ada played by Bulgarian supermodel Tanya Ilieva, but not enough money to get married and live happily ever after. To raise such funds, they turn to the local gangster simply known as Slug. However, when their plan to rob a local jeweler goes awry, The Moth is sent up the river on an unjust murder rap. Feigning an ardent conversion to socialism, he eventually secures parole sometime in the 1960’s, only to find the thugs who once operated in the underworld are now the thugs running the local party—and they want to have words.

In Vladislav Todorov’s subversive script, based on his novel, the underworld now has the force of the state at its disposal. With the Red Star literally towering over the town square, Gardev’s crime story takes on surreal dimensions thanks to its Orwellian political environment. Yet, morality persists in this world, preserved by the Church’s Father Todor, played with heavy authority by Djoko Rossich, in a scene which packs the film’s greatest emotionally punch.

Burrowing liberally from classic film noirs, like D.O.A., Brute Force, and Double Indemnity, Zift has all the elements, including an attractive and very fatal femme fatale: Ada, also called “The Mantis,” a species whose females kill their males when mating. However, Emil Christov’s highly stylized black & white cinematography is the true star of the film. There is an austere beauty to his visuals, with nearly every still of the film suitable for framing.

Style sometimes seems to take precedence over character in Zift, but it is indeed quite impressive, conveying a cold, oppressive world of imposing edifices and unchecked state corruption. Its fatalistic anti-hero, Moth (a species often drawn to flame) is also a cold figure, difficult to embrace or take a rooting interest in. He is surrounded by some very human supporting characters though, who sometimes have their own stories to tell, that serve as clever commentaries on the tragedy unfolding on-screen.

Impressively crafted, Zift was Bulgaria’s official submission for consideration as the 2008 Academy Awards’ best foreign language film. A unique viewing experience, it combines grim naturalism and visual poetry to evoke Bulgaria’s repressive Communist past. It has a late-night screening this Thursday (3/19) at SXSW and is currently available through IFC’s Festival Direct on most major cable providers (including Time Warner and Cablevision).