goEast Katalog 2020

(Soviet Union, 1987), the brothers Aleinikov sing
subversively and affirmatively of the construction
of a tractor, a central symbol of the socialist myth
of progress, modernisation and communism, in
such a way, however, that this myth is extended
ad absurdum – the hymn becomes a parody. The
Necrorealism of Evgeny Kondratiev, on the other
hand, celebrates grotesque-absurd mysteries that,
aside from dismantling late-Soviet reality, at the
same time pay homage to the early silent film era.
Hungarian auteur Béla Tarr is among the most aesthetically
radical innovators of the period. Thanks
to abstract images, extremely long takes, tracking
shots and heightened awareness of the moment,
his expansive black-and-white film compositions
caused an international sensation. For instance,
with a running time of 450 minutes, his celebrated
mammoth project SÁTÁNTANGÓ / SATANSTANGO
(Hungary 1994) is considered one of the longest
films of all time and poses a tremendous challenge
to any festival interested in screening it. Ildikó
Enyedi’s fiction-feature debut AZ ÉN XX. SZÁZA-
DOM / MY 20TH CENTURY (Hungary/Germany
1989), which was received with great enthusiasm
in Cannes, also numbers among the innovative
films of the transition period, an era in which
many Hungarian filmmakers devoted themselves
to grimly apocalyptic visions. Characterised by
ironic ruptures and a feminist attitude, Enyedi’s
allegorical journey back in time to the origins of
the 20th century depicts stages in the lives of two
twin sisters while tracing their expectations of a
future that failed to materialise.
Thus, on the one hand we witness the advent of
new topics and new forms. And on the other: the
chaos of the institutions, which, though it may
have represented an opportunity for the various
national cinematographies, also had devastating
consequences. The dissolution of state-run
institutions led in large part to the disappearance
of film funding and new financing options had to
be found. In addition, films were no longer being
archived systematically, as had been the case in
the era of cultural policies dictated from above.
For instance, Slovak cinema was practically on
the verge of extinction in this regard in the 1990s,
before experiencing a sort of resurrection around
the turn of the millennium. And yet we have the
wonderfully poetic film ZÁHRADA / THE GARDEN
by Slovak director, screenwriter and actor Martin
Šulík, a Slovak/Czech/French co-production from
1995. The film’s protagonist is forced to leave a
monotonous, uneventful life behind and open
himself to new, almost mystical experiences. His
previous existence is not only turned upside down
in the process – indeed, it is completely called into
question. However, as mentioned, we are dealing
with a co-production here, and co-productions
were one possibility of coping with the institutional
and financial crisis.
Although one does encounter films from this
transitional period in the specialist literature, the
films themselves are often nowhere to be found.
The Romanian film industry was hit particularly
hard in this regard: in the communist era, some 30
films were produced annually, while in the 1990s
both the production and quality of films declined
dramatically – to such an extent that not a single
Romanian film was made in the year 2000. From
2001 on, a revival took place, one described as
almost “eerily productive in terms both of quantity
and quality” (Uricaru, 2012: 428). Still, a number of
Romanian filmmakers who experienced success in
the 2000s had their roots in the 1990s. For instance,
Cristi Puiu, who presented MARFA ȘI BANII / STUFF
AND DOUGH (Romania 2001) in Cannes in 2001 and
whose film MOARTEA DOMNULUI LĂZĂRESCU /
THE DEATH OF MR. LAZARESCU (Romania 2005)
was honoured with several international awards.
In the second half of the 1990s Puiu made several
ground-breaking documentaries that focussed on
important topics from the transformational period.
Elsewhere, the situation for national cinematographies
was not necessarily as desolate as it was in
Romania. But how did things look in the individual
countries? For Poland, for example, there are
claims of “successful transformation” within the
film industry (Durys: 2016) – and that in spite of
the fact that Polish cinematography, like many of
its counterparts in the former communist states,
was initially engaged in a struggle for survival. On
the one hand, an atmosphere of hope for a better
future prevailed following the end of communism,
while, on the other, state funding had vanished
practically overnight. The film industry was
suddenly locked in competition with international
films – above all with the typical Hollywood
production, which had become the international
commercial standard – and was now forced to
adapt to the rules of the global free market as well
as to new formats and distribution channels. One
solution – not just for the Polish film industry – was
public television, which offered filmmakers a
helping hand by largely covering the financing
of productions. Filmmakers also attempted to
respond to the crisis in their choice of thematic
material; for instance, a number of box office
hits in a Hollywood mode arose which primarily
depicted chaos and criminality, or mafia-like
structures, such as for example Pasikowski’s previously
mentioned film PIGS, which treats the police
and underworld careers of former Polish state
intelligence operatives during the post-transition
period. Krzysztof Krauze’s excellent thriller DŁUG
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