QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM TALLINN

Anna (Johanna Wokalek) is a confident and successful pianist in the her late 30s. She is happily married to forest management CEO Andris (Juris Žagars), roughly two or three decades her senior. He dreams of having a baby with the beautiful young woman, and she seems to welcome the idea. One day, Andris is prevented from leaving Latvia. The police summon him for questioning just as he is about to embark an airplane with his wife. Her tour plans are thrown into disarray after Andris reveals that he is being investigated for alleged corruption, related to lobbying woodcutters.

The forest that could land Andris and Anna in trouble is also the one that offers them protection. They live in a sumptuous country house surrounded by verdant trees, somewhere in the Baltic countryside. They routinely host lavish dinners, and welcome illustrious guests, including a very vocal priest. Anna’s younger sister Alexa is also a regular appearance. The two women lost their parents two decades earlier, and remain very close to each other, despite a notable age gap (Alexa is much younger). The environment is spacious and sophisticated, ensuring that the hosts and visitors alike have a relaxing and indeed exalting experience.

Their relative peace is disturbed by a a very excitable press keen to follow the latest footsteps of the couple. A very intrusive drone invades the aerial space of their property, prompting an infuriated Andris to take matters into his own hands. Television news of the alleged lobbying and embezzlement charges take their toll on Anna and Andrin’s relationship. She begins to doubt his staunch claims of innocence. Could the man whom she loves and with whom she considers having a child be involved in a large corruption scheme? Her Teutonic attachment to law and order dreads to think this could be a possibility. So their interactions become increasingly unnatural and contrived.

The social exchanges inside their luxury residence too turn sour. There are long moments of awkward silence, and what should have been a civilised debate suddenly turns bitter. The duel between German and Latvian culture is constant. The Baltic chauvinists brag about their ability to urinate on their feet (apparently this is a skill German males do not possess), and regret that the Western European nation ordains female priests. Tradition and modernity also clash, as the younger guests question religious doctrine. The pressure on European women to wear make-up is compared to donning a burka. Anna’s religious maid leaves horrified, convinced that the devil has possessed the more progressive and outgoing Alexa. Andris is left cringing at the multiple embarrassments, all taking place on his own turf. And at a time he desperately needs to restore his reputation.

The relationship with music is also a central topic. Anna seeks “flight and liberation” by playing the piano, with two performances elegantly filmed on a pitch black stage bookending the film. She also confesses, however, that her work main inflict pain “to the soul and to the flesh”.

With an auspicious runtime of 98 minutes, this international co-production of three countries (Latvia, Estonia and Greece; with Germany strangely absent from the pool) boasts strong performances, interesting dialogues, and intriguing observations. The biggest challenge is that some of the commentary is so specific to Latvian and German culture that it may alienate those little familiar with these cultures. A lukewarm ending that offers neither redemption nor reflection also helps to prevent the film from reaching its full potential, and a more universal audience.

The Exalted just premiered in the Official Competition of the 28th Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival.