WINDY DAYS ARE GOOD FOR FLYING
Producer: Rossitsa Valkanova (KLAS FILM)
Petar Krumov was born in Sofia in 1988. He took two years of Cultural studies in SU„Kliment Ohridsky“, before entering NATFA „Krustyo Sarafov“ with a major in film directing, which he graduated in 2014.
He works as assistant director for film productions and TV commercials.
His debut short film „Shame“(2017, fiction) has been selected in San Sebastian IFF and Moscow IFF and it won the Clermont-Ferrand IFF nomination for EFA awards 2018 and Special mention at the Sofia IFF.
His debut novel „Hearse, two rhinoceros’’ („Colibri“, 2017) won the „Feather“ award for Best Debut (2017) and is nominated for the National Fund “13 Centuries Bulgaria” award Novel Of The Year.
Deyan /30/ is a talented film director who is coming back from Germany to his hometown, where he intends to shoot his debut film. But after three years of absence, Deyan will find out that in the desolate provincial town things are not quite as he remembered or expected. The actor Pavel /52/, an odd behaving alcoholic, who used to be a close friend of Deyan’s deceased father, is trying to fill the gap and to console the loneliness of Annie – Deyan’s mother /55/. His intentions might be honest, but Deyan is consumed by suspicion and jealousy. At the same time the young director is too busy to spend time with his mother, or to arrange the tombstone of his father on her request. Sudden gusts of wind pursue Deyan during his daily goings. Is this just a natural phenomenon, or a rhyme to his artistic strivings? Or could this be the overlooking spirit of his father, an admired local poet and an unusual man, whose name follows Deyan on every step, disturbing his independency. Day after day Deyan and his DOP, the easy going aesthete Theodore /35/, cast ordinary children and roam through decaying places. Theodor is often distracted by his upcoming trip to Malaysia while Deyan slowly realizes how little understanding or sympathy they have for the locals, who they want to depict. The locals return the favor after they show a total lack of comprehension of Deyan’s internationally rewarded short film. Maybe his debut film will turn out to be one fat and pretentious lie, Deyan is wondering. When he finds time to go to the stone workshop, he meets a simple Boy /18/, ideal for the leading role. This Boy… this holly fool appears to be so extraordinary that he turns the hipster-director’s concepts upside down. The Boy helps him to see clearly his own blindness and to open his heart.
This is a story about lonely souls, which, whirled by the winds, touch each other and part. A story about wandering, which, like all wanderings, ends with settling.
The wind is that elusive spirit that pierces everyone, that seems omnipresent, but not belonging anywhere (just like Deyan). It is the thread between past, present and future. It is a natural phenomenon, but it appears also as the exhilaration of existence.
With his films our hero wants to tell stories about outcasts, but he has nothing in common with them. And the outcasts couldn’t care less about that kind of films. Deyan doesn’t realize that his interest in primitive faces and desolate locations is merely a trend, but it soon becomes obvious to the viewer and gradually – to him. Actually, he is deeply lonesome and it takes him time to realize how much he resembles the Boy (the holy fool), whom he treats condescendingly.
Deyan returns to his hometown. Thus he roams not only through provincial manners, but through a realm of memories, buried beneath the surface. We distort the real events in our memory; we sift them. They become totally subjective… romantic. Deyan is digging for his private memories – material that he believes can turn into a successful film. At the same time he is avoiding the most powerful of them – that of his father.
His relatives are forcing on Deyan their subjective, ideal image of him – a reminiscence of the obedient and responsible kid. At the end – he is the one who has to convert the intangible memories into a stone memorial of his father, thus bonding the family again.
In this case we may agree that Deyan is entering a reality that is semi-present, semi-past; reality infiltrated by memories. The visual style needs to resemble somehow that sensation of floating in a stream of memories. The time is not linear. It’s a puzzle of pieces, flashes emerging one after another. Even the common dialogues will be torn up by ellipses in which fragments of time have collapsed.
For the moment when Deyan is searching /locations, casting, at the cemetery/ smooth, wind-like steadycam shots will lead us into worlds of devastation and elation, surreal and mundane at the same time. The camera may sometimes leave the characters to „go with the wind“ or towards an object that reminds them of a memory. This appearance of the memories is more likely to be done via sound (sounds of children, whispers, voices, mechanical objects).
The French philosopher Emmanuel Lévinas says that the human face “orders and ordains” us. It calls the subject into “giving and serving” the Other. The face-to-face moment serves to awake our own responsibility towards the Other.
Through Deyan we meet the faces of the children. Black and white photos… videos… interviews… In the film the human face should be not only an image, but the most candid invitation for a relationship and a measure for humanity. But the face, in contrast to every other part of our body, can resist possession – as the face of the Boy will resist the director’s power.
Each face is a landscape on which cuts are made, as if by a knife, forming abysses and heights: eyes, mouth and teeth. This feeling of the vivid, vigorous face we can get via lenses and light. The suburbs where Deyan roams are also kind of faces and we will get the notion that they are alive with the help of sound, too.
The director „digs“ for faces, yet remaining blind for their anguish or joy. At the end of the film our hero regains his sight.