The Tribe

The Tribe is one of the most unsettling films of the year. It is set at a boarding school for the deaf in Kiev, where anarchy prevails. There are no words, subtitles, or even a score. The hearing viewer is left to interpret the violent chaos without auditory clues, presenting a unique challenge in understanding the narrative and the motivations of the characters. We are left to confusedly construe scenarios by their actions, and as such, are provided some insight into the helpless isolation of the deaf.

As a film, The Tribe may be interpreted in various ways: as a political allegory for the Ukraine, as a discourse on communication through violence, as an allegory to the impotence experienced by minority groups, or as an exploration of enactivism in film. Regardless, there are scenes that are shockingly disturbing, and the direction is unflinching. My only conclusion is that I'm sorry deaf people, but I don't trust you anymore.

The Tribe hit my radar a while back when I heard about the novelty of a film being silent in the world of the hearing impaired in a foreign country w/no subtitles in existence. What is essentially a silent film made in the digital age, eschews themes we've seen in other cinematic rites of passage w/silent thieves on the make all the time going from one score to the next. One wonders if the bleakness depicted translates to other schools of impairment around the world where the easy way out of dealing w/adversity is to turn to a life of crime. The choice of an non-subtitled version really puts the onus on our viewing collective who don't have the patience for this interesting endeavor.

At the time of writing (October 2014) this is on release in France but not the UK or the US so I'll write this for the benefit of audiences elsewhere in the world who might be wondering whether to go and see it or not. When not extorting money from other students at a boarding school for the deaf in the Ukraine, the 'tribe' of thugs in the title spend their time robbing train passengers, people in the street or, with the help of their teachers, pimp each other at a truck stop. New kid Sergey arrives and falls for one of the young hookers...which is about all the synopsis you need. There's no dialogue, or subtitles, all the communication between the characters is through sign language. Along with a total absence of incidental music this has the paradoxical effect of heightening the sound...the sounds of footsteps, lorry engines revving for example becoming sinisterly effective. It's not difficult to follow the narrative at all, so don't be put off. The bleak surroundings of the institution combine with a dreary landscape of crumbling apartment blocks, supermarkets at night time in a bitter, dirty grey winter, to heighten the feeling of an amoral universe, a dog eat dog world where everyone is out only for themselves. There's no compassion, the one intimate relationship which develops seems to be motivated by lust, carnality and characterised by opportunism on either part. There doesn't appear to be any real tenderness there. Is the closed institution an allegory for the Ukraine, or human societies as a whole? The Tribe is a unique piece of cinema and inspired me to write, I've seen nothing in the last few years quite so extraordinary, but be warned it most definitely is not for the faint hearted. The violence is sickening, stomach churning, and made all the more shocking by the use of sound and absence of music since even if averting your gaze you remain all too aware of what's happening on screen, with no music to distance or make things ironic. The Tribe forces you to gaze, unblinking, into the abyss of total human depravity.

The Tribe is a remarkable movie set in a boarding school for deaf students, or more specifically its dark side. The world of bullying, violence, juvenile delinquency and prostitution. It is brutal, visceral and tragic. The dialogue is in Ukrainian sign language without any subtitles or spoken words. I expected watching such movie to be a torture. I was wrong. It is gripping, immersing, thought-provoking and quite watchable. But it does demand attentive, patient and interested viewer. When Norma Desmond, a character played by Gloria Swanson in Billy Wilder's Sunset Boulevard said: "We didn't need any dialogue, we had faces", she was part right. We really do not need dialogue to grasp the story, but we don't need faces either. We never see any close ups in The Tribe. What we do see is a bigger picture. And that's what this movie is about.

2014 was a year of impressive films that utilized supposed 'gimmicks.' Boyhood had its 12 years, Birdman has its single shot, The Grand Budapest Hotel played with ratios, and The Tribe, a film that played well at film festivals without breaking out anywhere, has unsubtitled Ukrainian sign language. It's bold, and tough to get used to, but you have to subdue yourself to the fact that you will never know the details. It's kind of a shame, the beauty of film is in the details, but The Tribe has enchanting visual poetry. A lot of the film is done in long takes, often following characters from behind with steadicam leading to a separate scenario, and it's immaculately choreographed. The extent of Miroslav Slaboshpitsky's ambition exhausts itself there however, although it does have inventive A Clockwork Orange-esque brutality. There's a cold intimacy between the characters, whether it be through punches or sex, but we're not with them. It's a film that deliberately pushes the audience away by being lost in translation. With characters acting solely as archetypal figures, it lacks anything to identify with. It's such a shame because it could have been more concisely powerful rather than a purely superficial and disconnected experience. No deaf person will sleep well afterwards though, even if they don't understand the sign language. It touches a nerve there at least.

7/10