Childhood mentality is a bit hard to interpret in reality
and difficult to capture in fiction. A fallacious narrative structure could
easily give into sentiment, turning the depthful, oft indecipherable emotions
of a child into an uncomplicated exercise in heart-tugging cuteness. More
daunting is the task to maturely portray a child’s sense of grief and loss.
Rene Clement’s 1952 masterpiece Forbidden James (Jeux interdits), set in 1940
in the backdrop of war, delicately presented an orphaned, traumatized child’s
attempt to come to terms with the realities of death. Victor Erice’s
spellbinding The Spirit of the Beehive (1973) and Carlos Saura’s searing
psychological portrait Cria Cuervos (1976) – both the lead child role played by
luminous performer Ana Torrent – also authentically mirrored a child’s
perspective, laden with death and abandonment (Del Toro’s seamless blend of
fantasy and confounding reality in Pans’ Labyrinth owes a lot to these two
movies). Catalan film-maker Carla Simon’s debut feature Summer 1993 (2017) is deeply
personal, compared to the hefty sociopolitical undertones encompassing the
aforementioned works. Nevertheless, it is yet another artful depiction of a
wilful child’s reckoning with traumatic emotions.
Winner of the best first feature prize at Berlin Film
Festival (in 2017), director/writer Carla Simon has pursued a subject matter
she’s very familiar with. Unfolding like series of recollected memories instead
of following a linear three-act structure, Simon channels her own childhood
experiences of trying to fit in with the new adopted family after her parents’
death. It’s a visual memoir that’s deeply perceptive, affectionate, and heartfelt
but never sentimental. The layer of harsh as well as poignant truths the film
bestows upon us resolutely tells how a familiar story can remain anew when
ingrained with skillful subtlety. Carla Simon’s intention from the very shot is
to delineate the inexpressible sense of isolation, blind fury, and displacement
faced by the six-year-old motherless child, Frida (Laia Artigas). In the opening scenes, the camera first hangs behind the six-year-old
and then attunes to Frida’s quiet upward gaze as the fireworks are exploding
above. Despite the festivities
outside, Frida’s boxed-in view of the world tells something about her
tumultuous inner-state. Frida is leaving her extended family (aunts and
grandparents) in Barcelona to live with her uncle Esteve (David Verdaguer), aunt
Marga (Bruna Cusi), and lively little Cousin Anna (Paula Robles) in their
idyllic country home.
The new family and quiet country life isn’t obviously easy
to adjust for little Frida. Nevertheless, her new parents are caring. Moreover,
she now has a wonderful playmate and a sister. The narrative spends time to
account the daily activities of Frida who is simultaneously lost in feelings of
happiness and underlying pain. Carla
Simon doesn’t straight-forwardly convey the circumstances surrounding Frida’s mother’s
death, but she gives little hints. A doctor rigorously subjects Frida to series
of tests. A casual play-date with local children ends embarrassing when Frida
falls down and scraps her knee, causing panic among aunt Marga and other
parents. Frida also doesn’t understand the significance of her aunt/new mom
tending her wounds after wearing rubber gloves. The fictional mother and
Simon’s mother died due to HIV virus. It was an era when unfounded fear
regarding AIDS transmission unsettled the society. This social stigma of the
1990s is so subtly portrayed that it could even be missed. These crucial plot
points relegated to background doesn't stop us from wholly understanding certain scene’s
purpose and emotional truth. The subtlety also helps in not single-mindedly labeling Frida as an outcast.
Summer 1993 in many ways works as a deeply affecting
examination of childhood psychology. Frida’s sudden antagonism and jealousy
directed towards little Anna (in one sequence she leaves the younger girl behind in
the woods and lies to Marga about it), her feelings of fear and genuine concern
when Marga feels sick, and the tantrum Frida throws when the visiting
grandparents are about to leave, all such delicate small moments displays how a child responds to perplexing feelings of grief and loneliness.
But the movie’s unfaltering strength lies in the way it avoids sensationalizing
the narrative for few cathartic, heart-breaking moments. And despite the
authentic treatment of the girl’s trauma, the children’s capability for
resilience and love isn’t underplayed. Director Simon also doesn’t make us
doubt about Frida’s interest in coping with her new family.
The tale might be simple, it’s ending
easily foreseeable, but the texture and performances, diffused with air of
authenticity, leaves a lasting impact. A lot of scenes involving Frida and Anna
are filmed in a remarkably natural manner. Although scripted, the exchanges
between the two children have superb dynamics. In one funny, static shot Frida
dons make-up, wears sunglasses, her hands holding a faux-cigarette playing a
caricature of mom and bosses around Anna. While the interaction between Frida and Anna
is so entertaining, I found the undulating relationship between Frida and Marga
more heart-breaking. Frida constantly tests her limits with Marga, pushing
to see how much she can get away with. The girl’s gambit goes bad after it
leaves Anna with an injury. Later, it’s touching to see how Frida tries to
smooth things with her new mom, dreading that she would be once again
displaced. The adult characters were also sensitively observed. The
grandparents uncontrollably dote on Frida. The grandmother repeatedly tries to
instill religious faith in Frida, the lack of which they may feel is what lead
to their daughter’s shortcomings. The conflict between Marga and grandmother in disciplining Frida is also observed with nuance. Marga’s general wariness
alongside her commitment to include Frida into their lives acutely showcases
the ebb and flow of family life.
Simon’s sun-drenched cinematography of the lush setting of
the Catalonian countryside imparts warmth and intimacy like the natural
characterizations. Director Simon has controlled every little detail in the
performances and setting which rather comes across as intuitive and natural.
But formal devices are almost unnoticeable, demonstrating how much can be
expressed with an observant camera without being showy. The performances are
dominant aspect of Summer 1993. Laia Artigas is as brilliant as Ana Torrent in
emoting the inner state of a troubled child. Laia and Paula’s casting is said
to have taken more than 6 months and the narrative’s episodic, small moments
largely works due to their unaffected, naturalistic presence. Frida’s bottled
emotional pain could almost be traced in Laia’s face and
hence it’s a huge cathartic moment when the girl, late in the film, sports a
warm giggle. Cusi shines in her role (Marga) despite Simon’s kid-centric
approach.
Summer 1993 (97 minutes) is a nuanced
and heartwarming tale of a little girl overcoming tragedy while attempting to
tap into the unconditional love of her new adoptive family. Thankfully, it
never exploits the child’s emotional stakes for melodramatic entertainment and
rather gets enriched by the narrative’s complex, psychological layers.
Trailer
1 comment:
Beautifully written post about what seems to be a beautiful film!
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