Messi and Maud (La Holandesa)

They say that children are the gifts that keep on giving, yet for many couples out there, their Christmases, birthdays and anniversaries seem empty of gifts. So it is for Frank (Guido Pollemans) and Maud (Rifka Lodeizen), both now past 40, eager to put a decade of miscarriages and false starts behind them. Flying to the Andes, an awaited rebirth is marred by another miscarriage, the following argument causes Maud to abandon her husband for the barren countryside. Only through a chance encounter with 8-year-old Messi (Cristobol Farias), does Maud re-discover the value of life.

Lodeizen delivers an extraordinarily well put together performance, even if the story sounds very conventional. Twelve minutes into the film and Lodeizen clothes herself in funereal black robes, wailing at the failures her blond body holds. She holds the contrived moments with an elegiac loneliness, aching for a child of her own to carry and hold. Her travel companion is the very thing she’ll never bear, a sprightly child, fervent, feverish and full of life. Together, Maud and Messi walk through the cascading South American deserts, pushing and pulling each other through their collected journeys.

Messi too holds a troubled history, his boorish father decrying the woman who bore him a whore and a mad woman. In Maud he finds a mother figure, in Messi, she finds a child. Inevitably, they must leave each other, but it’s not the collective destinations that makes the film so interesting. It’s the journey.

It’s richly illustrious in photography, the varying montages showcasing the lush escapades that entices tourists to the Patagonia. Much like the two leads, the landscape offers excitement, restraint, melancholy and possibility. And yet there’s a sadness at play. Messi will likely leave his fellow pilgrim to a dubious household, Maud must return to a childless marriage. Surrounded by this prosperous arid regions, where plants and soil meet, Maud comes to terms that her body will never grow and flower a life of her own.

While a little heavy-handed at times, the end result is an emotive one, celebrating the virtues of womanhood that exist outside of the womb. Lodeizen is excellent, steering the journey that a viewer can enjoy, but understands that Maud is not and will not be the only woman who has walked in these unenviable steps.

Watch Messi and Maud for free during the month of December only with ArteKino – just click here for more information.

In Blue

For me, film festivals are exciting because they are a little bit like the theatre. They are a singular live experience. Even if you have planned it well, there is always room for surprise. There will always be a movie whose director you never heard of, spoken in a language you don’t speak, with a very unexpected plot. In Blue is one those films. It’s a film so original and daring that it deserves a review.

Spoken in Dutch and Romanian, In Blue has two protagonists: an independent Dutch flight attendant called Lin (Maria Kraakman; the film title refers to her uniform) and a 15-year-old boy called Nicu (Bogdan Iancu), who lives on the streets of Bucharest. In the first scene, Lin delivers a passenger’s child in mid-air. Meanwhile, Nicu’s (Bogdan Iancu) washes his teeth in a dirty train station toilet. Despite looking dirty and scruffy, Nicu seems quite concerned about his teeth. He gives his sister a toothbrush as if the little girl would value it more than a doll. The second time Nicu washes his teeth we learn that he just gave someone blow job. Nicu happens to be a rent boy.

Nicu literally crosses Lin’s path. Lin is late to the airport. She gets on a taxi and asks the driver to hurry, which he does until he runs over Nicu. She follows the boy to emergency and suddenly they bond. To the extent that she swaps her shift with another flight attendant so she can be with him.

We cannot figure out what sort of relationship they have. Lin behaves motherly but she also puts on perfume and make-up whenever they are about to meet. Nicu becomes dependent on Lin’s affection and care, and perhaps he also has a vested interest her money. Such intriguing connection resembles the one in Pixote, the Law of the Weakest (Hector Babenco, 1981). Likewise Pixote and and the prostitute Sueli in the Brazilian movie, Nicu and Lin stage a pietà moment for the cameras.

In Blue conquers your heart with its ambiguity. The filmmaker illustrates Mother Teresa’s quote: “I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, that can be no more hurt, only more love.”

Little by little, we understand why Lin is infatuated with the boy, and you will probably forgive her for it. She seduces a minor, buys him clothes, invites him to her hotel room, pays him to show her the streets of Bucharest. But there is more to than meets the eye. Life is never what it seems. Life is far more complex. The cinematography, on the other hand, is far simpler and closer to reality. The places where Nicu goes, the corners he inhabits with other homeless people give you a real feel of life on the streets Romania, and how the country its failing its poor people.

In Blue is showing at Rome International Film Festival. Highly recommendable for other festivals and also for distribution.