20/02/2024 - BERLINALE 2024: The Latvian director discusses his exploration of Soviet Russia and the fate of its Baltic citizens, particularly that of real-life actress Marija Leiko

(© Kristaps Dzenis)

In his newest feature, Maria’s Silence [+see also:
film review
interview: Dāvis Sīmanis
film profile], which played in the Forum section of the 74th Berlinale, Latvian director Dāvis Sīmanis once again travels back to Soviet Russia and examines the fate of its Baltic citizens. Focusing on the tragic biography of real-life actress Marija Leiko, the movie is a warning about never forgetting what could happen to those who do not fit in with the narrative or the self-perception of a regime – and a reminder that nobody is untouchable.

Cineuropa: Marija Leiko seemed like this untouchable star in Soviet Russia, but in the end, she was a victim, too – and most likely not the only one. What drew you to her story in particular?
Dāvis Sīmanis: When I first approached the story, I realised that there was this very powerful situation where she was trying to retrieve her grandchild from Soviet Russia, and then stayed there, only to be persecuted and killed. It’s quite symbolic of the whole historical period. At the same time, she is very powerful in the context of our current reality. She could also be a symbol of what is happening now in Russia, or the catastrophic war in Ukraine.

She is also a reminder that homogenous countries didn't use to be a thing. Russia had many minorities.
I think that's why the regime reacted in such a bloody way. These national operations were executed against different nations – Germans, Poles, Latvians, Finns and many others. Many people from different nations were in powerful positions in the state system. The regime wanted to cleanse itself of those who didn’t fit the narrative that they wanted to build.

The title of your feature can be interpreted in many ways. She's silent on stage, and she is silent when asked to confess to conspiracy, but she was also an actress of the silent-movie era.
I always have problems with film titles. I could spend weeks trying to invent a proper title and never feel that it's the right one. But in this case, it was different because we didn't have a script, but we already had the title. In retrospect, it feels like it has many different layers.

While one could say she was complicit in looking the other way, you have two Latvian party members whom she interacts with, who are very much on board with the system.
But they don't realise the bloody nature of the regime that they are part of. They can’t predict that they will be the next ones to be killed. Jēkabs Peterss realises this because he's already being guarded; Leonīds Zakovskis does not understand that while being this killing machine, he will be killed at some point himself. It happened just three months after Leiko’s death.

Maria also does not act very carefully when it comes to the people she trusts either.
I think that’s some kind of naivete inherent in the Western world.

There are obvious parallels to today – the Ukrainian conflict or, just recently, the death of Alexei Navalny. Things change, but at their core, they're still the same.
I have made many historical films and always think of them as reminders. We have to remember the catastrophes in history so that we don’t make the same mistakes again. Then you make a film, and everything in the real world stays the same. For me, that is emotionally quite depressing.

Is that the reason why you keep coming back to making these historical features?
We can’t hide behind fatigue – as in, “I don't want to know about war. I don't want to know about Russia.” I would like to make something less connected with reality – maybe a comedy. But somehow, I always come back to this.