NY Baltic ’23: Soviet Milk

Astra has not had many positive male models in her life. She never knew her dad, who disappeared while in the hands of the Soviet occupiers and the father of her own daughter is no longer in the picture. Arguably, Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s study of the underclass resulting from the breakdown of the family unit could have applied just as well to Latvia. Even though she is a gifted doctor, Astra is so embittered by the Communist system, she believes her own milk is toxic, so she withholds it from her baby Nora in Inara Kolmane’s Soviet Milk, which screens virtually as part of the 2023 New York Baltic Film Festival.

She was a shy but bright student, so it only follows Astra became a gifted doctor. However, her mothering skills and instincts are lacking. Since she cannot be bothered, Nora will largely be raised by her grandparents (Astra’s mother and her step-father, who is a decent man, but he too has been badly damaged by the Communist system).

When Astra secures a prestigious residency in Leningrad, she leaves Nora behind without a second thought. Ironically, her specialty becomes fertility, helping desperate women get pregnant. Unfortunately, she ruins her career when she violently confronts a serial domestic-abuser, because the authorities automatically side with him, against her. As a result, the only posting open to her is a remote rural clinic. Rather perversely, Astra now insists on bringing Nora, who loyally agrees.

Soviet Milk should be required viewing for all young socialists, because it shows how much the Soviet system was at odds with the values they profess to hold. Of course, there is no due process, as the prologue arrest of Astra’s father vividly illustrates. Wife-beaters are protected, but Astra is forbidden from treating, or even discussing the condition of her inter-sex friend, Jesse. As a bonus, Nora is instructed how to properly field strip infantry rifles as a member of the young pioneers.

Yet, more fundamentally, Soviet Milk bears witness to the regime’s concerted efforts to undermine the Church and the family as the building blocks of society. Astra is a good and “faithful” atheist, as per the state’s requirements, but the worldview she is forced to adopt makes her miserable.

NY Baltic ’23: Machina Faust

When reviewing music, I try to approach it more like literature. Instead of analyzing the minutiae of technique, I prefer to focus on thematic elements, because it means more to average readers/listeners. Such an approach would surely be fruitful with the work of Estonian alto saxophonist and composer Maria Faust. It is easy to understand why from her fearlessly revealing documentary profile, Kaupo Kruusiauk’s Machina Faust, which screens virtually as part of the 2023 New York Baltic Film Festival.

Faust is not hugely popular in the United States, but she is not a complete unknown either. She is quite well-known in Denmark, where she studied, and her native Estonia. Yet, she is still far from immune from the pressures facing most working jazz musicians. The pandemic did not help either. It also put a strain on her relationship with American tenor saxophonist Ned Ferm.

Ferm works quite a bit as a sideman, including with Faust, but rarely as a leader, so Faust’s acclaim adds further elements of stress to their relationship. There is even more to it than that. Rather courageously, Faust confides to Kruusiauk (and the audience) she is the survivor of domestic abuse. She is considering a long-form composition addressing the subject, but she is uncertain whether she wants to endure the scrutiny and trolling such a project would spur. In light of these thoughts, she also starts to question some of the dysfunctional elements of her current relationship.

Machina Faust only runs an economical 78 minutes, but it will be the cornerstone of Faust studies (and there will probably be many) for years to come. If only we had a film like this for Billie Holiday. Kruusiauk lets Faust to speak for herself—and her honesty has considerable bite—especially for herself.

NY Baltic ’23: Melchior the Apothecary: The Executioner’s Daughter

Melchior Wakenstede was not expecting the Inquisition, but nobody ever expects the Inquisition. Unfortunately, their presence will make it harder for him to solve crimes as Tallinn’s deputy sheriff. It also makes it harder to live as a halfway enlightened Medieval man, just in general. Consequently, Wakenstede faces his costliest case yet in Elmo Nuganen’s Melchior the Apothecary: The Executioner’s Daughter, which screens virtually as part of the 2023 New York Baltic Film Festival.

Wakenstede has finally married his beloved Keterlyn Kordt, his former apprentice, back when she was trying to pass for a man (unconvincingly). Technically, their marriage defies local customs, for reasons that were revealed at the end of The Ghost, but they are finally happy together. Alas, it will not last, when Madame Wakenstede partially witnesses an attempted murder.

Unfortunately, the abbey cannot tend to the victim, because they are unexpectedly hosting one of the Pope’s Inquisitors. As usual, nobody was expecting the Inquisition. Inconveniently, that means the Wakenstedes must care for him in the apothecary. It does not take much of a detective to figure out the witch-hunting Inquisition has Wakenstede in its sights. Of course, it hardly helps when he subsequently proves a traveling performer’s presumed suicide is in fact a murder, in open defiance of the Inquisition’s enforcer-monk.

Initially, Executioner’s Daughter seems like a relatively minor mystery, but it takes a surprisingly dark turn. Fans who connected with these characters will be probably be shocked by what happens. Hollywood would never go here, especially in the third film of a trilogy, produced back-to-back (like Peter Jackson did with The Lord of the Rings). However, Wakenstede’s climactic confrontation with the secret murderer is probably the best scene in the entire 3-film cycle.

NY Baltic ’23: Melchior the Apothecary: The Ghost

The Baltics are now free and prosperous nations, where the rule of law is scrupulously observed. Of course, in Medieval times, justice was harsh and arbitrary in Estonia, just like everywhere else. When Melchior Wakenstede assists his sheriff’s investigations, he can hopefully prevent the arbitrariness, but there is not much he can do about the harshness. Life was getting good for Wakenstede at the end of his first film (also screening at the festival), but secrets from the past will separate him from his new lover, Keterlyn Kordt, while he tries to stop an escalating body-count in Elmo Nuganen’s Melchior the Apothecary: The Ghost, which screens virtually as part of the 2023 New York Baltic Film Festival.

Gerke once masqueraded as a man while working as Wakenstrede’s apprentice, but the apothecary easily saw through her disguise (like the audience) and fell in love with her. She now works as the nurse of a dying merchant, so their romance is almost out in the open. Unfortunately, she disappears right before their scheduled assignation after encountering a menacing stranger. Of course, Wakenstrede is troubled by her absence, but he must wholeheartedly devote his time to assisting Sheriff Dorn’s latest investigation. Apparently, Dorn is Estonian for “Lestrade.”

The night watchman has plunged to his death and Magda, the “sex worker” (as they were known in Medieval Estonia) he encountered during his evening rounds, also soon turns up murdered. Reportedly, they both claimed to see a ghost in the courtyard shared by Kordt’s dying boss and his lifelong friend. Shortly thereafter, Magda’s artist lover is also killed before Melchior’s eyes, the victim of homicidal sabotage. Suspicion soon falls on the parish priest, which is just fine with Dorn and the nobles he serves, but Wakenstede can tell better.

In some ways, The Ghost is considerably darker than the first Melchior film, because the central secret is definitely sinister. Wakenstede employs some reasonably solid investigative techniques, particularly for the era, and his intuition is unusually sharp. We also root for his relationship with Kordt, who is sidelined for the majority of the film, especially if you have already invested in the previous film.

All three films were produced together, so perhaps scenes from all three were shot in close sequence, but from a viewer’s perspective, Marten Metsaviir appears more comfortable in Wakenstrede’s skin in this installment. He was a consistently likable lead in the first film, but here he inspires confidence. Maarja Johanna has limited screentime in The Ghost (which will be rectified in the trilogy’s conclusion), but she makes the most of it.