QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM TIFF ROMANIA

Originally conceived as a television series, 1286 somehow landed in the festival circuit with a concise 90-minute version (I haven’t been able to find out whether this is the compact version of a longer creation, or an episode of an anthology compilation). Either way, this is a quietly impressive gem, boasting an impressive cinematography, strong performances and a disturbing, lyrical comment on human barbarity.

The year is 1997. Young surgeon Aman (Olzhas Dalelkhan) drowns his sorrows with a friend at the local watering hole. He has an amicable relationship with is wife, however they have been contemplating a divorce for six months. The two intoxicated friends are kidnapped by two very different brothers: the loud, cruel and formidable Kazbek, and the mute, passive, rifle-toting Hasan. They are tied naked to a wooden beam and pilloried, their ankles slashed so that they are unable to walk. Then they are thrown in to a cage with a group of men who have endured to same turture for several years.

These males are mercilessly stripped of their individuality and humanity. They are no longer able to use their real names, but instead the animal accolades that Kazbek has bestown upon them: Deer, Frog, Turtle, etc. Aman becomes Dog. Their feet are repeatedly lashed, ensuring for the continuity of their immobility. A mentally disabled man aptly named Puppy operates as the snitch, keeping an eye on the other slaves while also enjoying some petty privileges. Inmates promptly warn Aman that his only hope is of survival, and that there is no prospect of escape. The walled facilities are located in the middle of the rocky, vast drylands of rural Kazakhstan, far away from civilisation, and Kazbek knows the region like the palm of his hand. Aman’s memories become the only fertile ground for joy. He recalls the most beautiful moments of his married life, as the black-and-white movie briefly shifts to highly saturated, coloured images.

The forced labour is secondary. The main purpose of these men is to satiate Kazbek’s unquenchable desire for degradation. He laughs maniacally as the man cry in agony, and urinates in their mouth when they are desperate for hydration. He forces them to play deadly games, and one step in the wrong direction could have horrific consequences for the entire group, who must often endure collective punishment. Kazbek’s social life consists of inviting equally cruel friends to watch a cock fight. He has as little respect for animals as he does for human beings, one day punishing Puppy for feeding the rooster to satisfaction. Whether such degree of perversity does exist, or whether this is an expressionist portrait of human brutality is open for question. Even Hitler possessed an affable side, and was very kind to his four-legged friends. Kazbek has no such qualities.

Parallel to the consistent violence and debasement, another tragic story takes place, Aman’s increasingly desperate wife urges that local authorities to find her missing husband. “Send out your troops”, she demands from an police officer. “We don’t have such things, you’ve been watching too many action movies”, he retorts with palpable apathy. This is a movie about successive and irreconcilable tragedies: the divorce, the abduction, the captivity, and the failed/non-existent search efforts. A nihilistic journey of unfulfilled dreams and ambitions. The materialisation of the most shocking of nightmares.

With a slow pace and a sombre photography reminiscent of Russian filmmakers such as Andrei Tarkovsky and Alexander Sokurov, 1286 does not seem to make a statement against any specific government or event. The sharp and imposing photography of the rocky mountains has a hint of Japanese cinema, with masters such as Kinoshita, Teshigahara or even Kurosawa springing to mind. The confinement of The Woman of the Dunes (Teshigahara, 1964) comes to mind, even if the final denouement is diametrically opposite to the Japanese film. In Alisher Utev’sd world, freedom is desirable however unattainable.

1286 premiered in the Coming Up Next section of the 23rd edition of Tiff Romania.