Director:
Visar MorinaGuión:
Visar MorinaCámara:
Matteo CoccoMúsica:
Benedikt SchieferStreaming (1)
Sinopsis(1)
Antes del inicio de la Guerra de Kosovo un padre intenta deshacerse de su hijo para cruzar la frontera y escapar de la Guerra. Babai, y su aventura a través de Europa, se convirtió en la película más cara en haberse filmado en Kosovo en los últimos años. (Filmin)
Reseñas (2)
50th KVIFF – I haven’t been to a festival before and so I expected the main contest panel to be full of only the best of the best. That’s how I perceived it and I probably shouldn’t have. Anyways, Babai seemed like a really interesting movie that tells the story of immigrants, this time from Macedonia. The crowd of delegates seemed charming and so I got even more excited. And if it weren’t for the second half of the movie, I’d probably go into a limbo, just like few of the people around me, as I noticed. The first half of the movie was awfully confusing, confidently introducing some rules in the middle of a small Macedonian town, but I didn’t really understand these rules. The second half of the movie was much clearer. It introduced a giant looser and it didn’t really make the movie any more charming. There wasn’t anyone to root for and the ten-year-old Nori has suffered through his life mostly out of desperation, a fact that was proved in the ending itself, which didn’t give me anything at all. A shame.
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It does have a strong theme and the potential for special dynamics between father / son, but unfortunately it is immediately brought down by diligent but unmanaged directing. Each shot is subjectively longer by half, while the film feels confused and figurative. If the characters sometimes did not balance what happened, some of the moments would fade out into nothingness. The quest to create an unbiased picture of immigration is grounded by a slightly bizarre conclusion. It all feels like faintly composed memories and moments that desperately lack integrity and inner strength. The introductory quote from Adorno is true, but it is also true that returns to one's own childhood are of value only if the creator finds in them more than just the magic of portraying one's own memories. And Father may be trying to achieve the Dardenian kinetics of a stubborn central character, but most of the time it stiffens helplessly on the spot, moreover without the ability to observe impressively. Most of the time, it only describes. Festival B league.
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