Kalak

Based on Kim Leine’s 2007 autobiographical eponymous novel, this international co-production of six European countries examines the life of 30-something-year-old nurse Jawho (Emil Johnsen) during the 1980s as he moves from his native Denmark to the remoteness of Nuuk, Greenland’s quiet and bucolic capital, and then the even more distant and isolated Kulusuk (a settlement of just 200 inhabitants). He is accompanied by his wife (Asta Kamma August) and their two children Markus and Amanda.

On the surface, Jan has a well-structured family and career: he is loved by his patients, spouse and offspring. But there’s a dirty secret preventing him from achieving happiness: he was sexually abused by his father, an event that audiences witness in graphic detail in the movie’s opening sequence. Instead of devoting his full attention to his wife, he engages in multiple affairs with a string of local women. One of the locals challenges him: “you must love Greenlandic women”. He retorts: “I love all women”. He is upfront about his extramarital life to his wife, also indicating that he has no desire to give up his lifestyle. She offers no reaction to his candid yet seemingly selfish and objectionable behaviour.

Jan’s father is dying of cancer, yet he mostly ignores his elder’s attempts at reestablishing some sort of communication him. It is his wife who reads the letter informing the family that the disease has progressed, and that death is all but inevitable. His family find Jan’s lack of emotion awkward, but never challenge him. Jan only shares his secret to one of his lovers, perhaps in search of compassion, but the response that he receives leaves him shellshocked (in the film’s most powerful dialogue). Does his tragic past indeed justify his demeanour, or is Jan simply indifferent to the emotional pains and malaises of those around him? Is he a sexual victim or a sexual predator, Kalak seems to ask.

A couple of freak accidents affect two people very close to Jan’s heart, and he becomes overridden with guilt and depression. He resorts to prescription drugs, aided by the very unorthodox local doctor. The clinician alternates Ritalin and Rohypnol in order to keep going, and recommends a cocktail of morphine and Tramadol for anxiety, with the occasional benzodiazepine thrown in – one has to wonder what medical school he attended.

The film title means “dirty Greenlander”, a suitable accolade for our complex and multilayered protagonist. He is dirty because he’s an outsider. He’s dirty because his promiscuous lifestyle is at odds with his profession. And he is dirty because he profanes the sanctity of his very own family. And he is unrepentant. We eventually learn that he inherited some of these traits from his unapologetic father. Viewers are left to judge whether Jan’s choices reflect and perpetuate the actions of the man whom he despises, or whether they are the genuine expression of a free-loving soul.

Swedish director Isabella Eklöf’s sophomore feature is bursting with raw authenticity, all wrapped up in the cold Greenlandic weather and Scandinavian stoicism. Not a remarkably heart-wrenching experience, however a palpable and honest one.

Kalak just premiered as part of the Official Competition of the 71st San Sebastian International Film Festival. Also showing at the Turin Film Festival

Holiday

While it takes place in consistently bright sunshine near a Turkish habour town, there’s nothing pleasant about the family dynamics portrayed here. Although Sascha (Victoria Carmen Sonne) arrives at a Turkish airport wearing summer clothing and lugging a case at the start, the narrative wouldn’t do too well in the Bechdel Test as all her dealings with the world appear to involve men and revolve around sex and/or violence – real, implied or refused. Pretty quickly she’s in a parked white car with Bobby (Yuval Segal) and explaining to him that she’s €300 short. He complains that “pretty girls think everything is for free” and gives her a pretty unpleasant warning on behalf of the boss to ensure she’ll never make another mistake like that. Her one and only warning which is never discussed again.

Later Sascha is picked up by boyfriend Michael (Lai Yde) and his number two Bo (Bo Brønnum) in the same white car. They drive to the villa where the rest of the ‘family’ are waiting. Swimming Pool. Drink. Drugs. A couple of other women, one of whom Tanje (Laura Kjær) looks as young as Sascha. There’s clearly money to burn and Michael has put some of it into the tacky hotel where Sascha stayed overnight after her flight.

Male hijinks and larking about quickly give way to something darker. Take the loyal Musse (Adam Ild Rohweder) who barks when playfully called a dog. At one point he puts a foot wrong: he comes back to the villa after someone hasn’t shown up. Michael is concerned that Musse may have lead the police there. They take him from outside into a downstairs room while Sasha, Tanje and a child are sent to watch TV in the lounge. The three turn up the volume to hide the sounds of whatever’s going on in the other room. Later bearing flesh wounds he hands out presents to Michael, Bo and others. Michael tells him everything is okay and gives his an envelope of cash. His philosophy is to punish bad and reward good.

How this works out for the women in this group is much more sexual. Sascha is abused in some pretty unpleasant and explicit ways by Michael, which immediately earn the film a BBFC 18 certificate (and the same for its trailer below, although the material in the film itself is considerably stronger and far more unpleasant than what’s shown in the 18 trailer).

Not all characters here are as nasty. Dutch yachtsmen Tomas (Thijs Römer) is an easy going type who, it later emerges, has given up the cutthroat world of sales and marketing for a life sailing round the world with his pal Karsten (Stanislav Sevcik). Sascha meets the pair in an ice cream parlour queue and later takes Ecstasy with Tomas on the local beach. He’s a nice guy who is later going to wish he hadn’t come anywhere near Sascha.

Holiday consistently looks good with Turkish sun burning into every bright blue skied, daytime frame and the night time environment appearing just as idyllic. No-one can accuse the cast of not trying really hard.

Eklöf previously had a screenplay credit on Border/Gräns (Ali Abbasi, 2018) but her feature directorial debut is nowhere near as complex or skilfully orchestrated as either that, Burning (Lee Chang-dong, 2018) or Dragged Across Concrete (S. Craig Zahler, 2018). Both these latter films contain an element of misogyny. Yet while the female-written and -directed Holiday’s intention to express the voices of women placed in positions of submission might be admirable, this backfires in the finished film by failing to offer any way out of a misogynistic cycle of violence in which women are abused by men. A few unsettling scenes and shocks, not least in the closing 10 or so minutes where the piece veers off in one or two unexpected directions, aren’t really enough to lift the whole above that. Perhaps Eklöf should take a lesson from Revenge (Coralie Fargeat, 2018) which at least attempted to turn the tables.

Holiday is out in the UK on Friday, August 2nd. On VoD on Monday, August 26th.