katchita

Not for the faint at heart, Human Zoo takes up the sociopathy of betrayal, in the context of love and war. Writer/director Rie Rasmussen also plays the main character, a woman of mixed Serbian-Albanian parentage narrowly saved from rape or worse in 1999 Kosovo by a man who is, aside from a quirky feminist streak, strictly psychopathic. During her subsequent time with him in the anarchic mafiadom of Belgrade, the camera returns to her wrist wounds from the war. She worries them open again and again; we see quiet drops of blood, richly red, artistic, fall onto an etched glass bowl in one scene, contrasting with some of the more effective portrayals of violence I've seen in recent years in the cinema. We observe the betrayal of nearly every norm of decent society as Rasmussen rages at this world of ours. It's a particularly female form of rage, and I, for one, think it's about time the world take note.

The film was not perfect, with a couple of confused plot twists that may have been due to either over-writing, over-editing or a combination of the two. But when I see this sort of energy in a director's first feature film, that's something to which I play close attention. Lead actor Vojin Cetkovic from Serbia dominates the half of the film that takes place in Kosovo and Serbia. He played a bit role in my to-date, all-time Berlinale favorite, Klopka. He's a thinking-woman's psychopath whose ruminations on the societal constructions intended to make us "human" are the strongest and most startling part of Rasmussen's work. Any actor capable of making me believe someone out there could truly find it more justifiable to kill children ["after all, what do they have: at most, maybe 5, 6, 7 friends?!"] is, strictly speaking, a cinematic genius.

I saw Human Zoo during its second Berlinale screening, and the post-film environment smacked of conspiracy, into which the audience sank with palpable satisfaction. Prior to the screening, Berlinale staff indicated it wouldn't be followed by a Q&A as they didn't believe the director was present. Afterward, however, the supporting male actor, Nick Correy, jumped on stage and angrily denounced Luc Bresson, much of the time without a microphone, until one belatedly surfaced, the Berlinale crew all the while indicating that scheduling didn't allow for a Q&A. He talked about obstacles to the film's financing and production, then Rasmussen showed up very briefly on stage, after which they both took it outside the theater.

Their message was that, short days before the Berlinale, a non-disclosure agreement had been signed and Bresson's name had, from complete absence, been elevated to a prominent place on the credits, this being the first time a film with his involvement had been chosen to open the Berlinale Panorama. Interestingly, IMDb has nothing linking him with this film as of this writing. Outside, the press swirled around (Variety panned it) and I thought to myself, this film will be a hit. We'll see, but with a beautiful, angry and talented actress/ex-model-cum-director/writer at the center of an artistic controversy, it has all the elements. If it actually gets released, then run, don't walk, to see this film.

From this year's Berlinale, one of the films that lingers in my mind is becoming conflated with a 2007 offering from the same country, Sweden. It's hardly a country that comes to mind when I think of immigrants, which just goes to show how quickly all the old patterns are changing. Last year's film was När Mörkret Faller (When Darkness Falls). It primarily starred immigrants and consisted of 3 vignettes, the first of which blew me away. It was a very psychologically complex portrayal about how a family of Turkish immigrants treat the lost "honor" of an independent-minded daughter.

Similarly, this year's offering, Leo, was also concerned with violence and its effects on victims' loved ones. The film was violent and disturbing, but I always distinguish between gratuitous violence (which is worthless) and that which teaches us something. This film, for me, definitely fell in the latter category, as Fares asks questions about young men struggling to find appropriate responses to violence, and at the same time define their manhood. In listening to the post-screening Q & A with Fares and co-star Salehi, I caught only a few glimpses of maturity and insight. But the main character was played by professional actor Terfelt and the process of filming clearly relied on a synergy between the three that added up to something greater than its individual parts. All three may merit watching in the future, to see if further talent materializes.