QUICK’N DIRTY: LIVE FROM TALLINN
[dropcaps]T[\dropcaps]he film frame is a window onto the world and the experiences of others. Greek director Stefanos Tsivopoulos’ realist drama Elena’s Shift offers a powerful view of life for a single mother standing up to an unsympathetic and exploitative system. But it’s more than just a window because Elena’s Shift is an expression of vulnerability, of a director placing his trust in the palm of his audience’s hand. Cinema, however, demands that the filmmaker, the actors and the audience all open up their vulnerability to enter a communion with one another. Elena’s Shift is the type of film we can open our hearts to and through compassion for its character explore our humanity.
The story revolves around Elena (Maria Dragus) a Romanian immigrant applying for Greek naturalisation. She dreams of offering her son a better life, but fate seems ready to test her resolve, because in quick succession her application is unsuccessful and she loses her job. What awakens in Elena is a resolve to fight back against the system. Her fight is not a lonely one, and she finds an invaluable ally in Rota, a lawyer. The pair, however, discover deeper feelings, and alongside their fight against injustice they explore their mutual attraction.
Elena’s Shift is a gentle film that moves with a brisk and confident pace. The story pulses with the traditions of social realist cinema, but Tsivopoulos’ film is gentler in its approach to the material. It doesn’t mine the raw or visceral depths of the sub-genre, but it still manages to pack a punch by illicting sympathy and empathy for Elena, and in its messaging about the imbalance of power, moral ambiguity and hypocrisy in employment agreements known as “white contracts” that offer immigrants and other employees no protection.
Tsivopoulos is asking an often asked question in the struggle for equality of accountability: how do you hold an institution or individuals that hide behind abuses of power accountable? And Tsivopoulos’ emphasises this word “hide” throughout the film, because Elena’s former employers remain mostly hidden behind those loyal soldiers, like the white collar lawyer/legal representative who negotiates a return of incriminating evidence in Elena’s possession.
Elena’s Shift effectively finds that sweet spot between the desire to make a stand and the desire for a quiet life. It helps that Elena is a single mother, because her son shares in the stakes of her pursuit of justice for not only herself, but past and future employees. We follow Elena on her journey, and perhaps without being fully aware, we are the source of the film’s emotional landscape. From our seats, we project our hopes, trepidations and fears onto the character and the story. Herein lies the power of Tsivopoulos’ film — to bring us as close as cinema can to putting us in another person’s shoes, and in all liklihood someone with a very different life experience to our own.
This emotional resonance emerges out of Tsivopoulos’ affection for his protagonist, or maybe we should call her a heroine. The director is happy to sit in moments with Elena and simply observe her. There’s a strong silent component to the film that emphasises Elena’s quiet thoughts through body language and facial expressions. In these moments Tsivopoulos invites the audience to actually see and hear his heroine, which is the antithesis of the dehumanising and objectifying experiences the film depicts.
If there’s an imperfection, it’s Tsivopoulos’ desire to be too gentle and hopeful. If he is, these moments are earned by the tough emotional and physical experiences that Elena goes through, including a violent assault that leaves her bruised and battered. Tsivopoulos’ choice is something each person in the audience will have to reckon with on their own terms, but maybe right now in the world, we all need a bit of hope, and we should be thankful to Tsivopoulos for his gesture.
Elena’s Shift just premiered in the First Feature Competition of the 29th Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival.
