The eponymous character in Arni, a product of the 2023 Venice Film Festival‘s Biennale College Cinema, is a young member of a travelling circus family. He’s a worker, a handyman, and, apparently, the only non-family member in the group. It is never really clear if this is the reason he seems like an outcast of sorts, although the family itself hardly screams warmth.
In any case, at the start of this super-dry account of the life and work of the troupe, Arni is required to bring in a selection of workers to erect a tent, which will be used for a forthcoming show. He chooses to scout for his men in a bar, where he asks for water and is handed a glass of clear liquid. He spits once it reaches his mouth — it’s alcohol. The bartender, a mischievous lady, laughs. Another patron does the same. On this evidence, Arni is a sucker. But he does get his men.
Or does he? Back home, he is berated for hiring drunks as workers. The family’s patriarch and chief bully also says he has paid the men too much. Who needs enemies when you have co-workers like this? With these scenes, all of which are mediated by low light photography and a bleak, barely-there score, the principal mode of action is revealed to be melancholy. When one of Arni’s associates takes him for a rough, joyless quickie in the woods, the picture is complete.
There can be no more doubt what kind of movie this is: a slice-of-life depiction of an isolated young man in Europe. Dorka Vermes, the film’s director, has spoken about the film being inspired by her pal Peter Turi, the very actor who plays Arni. But the film is just as concerned with the fiduciary processes that brings art and/or entertainment to the people. Take the scene after one show, where we watch an ancient accounting system in action. Before lodging the figures in a book, a few queries go up: How many popcorns were sold? How many people posed for a picture? And so on. Perhaps Vermes is also making a point about filmmaking. It is art, it is entertainment — but somewhere there lurk cold numbers lodged in a spreadsheet.
Thus, between the numbers and the circus family, it seems a rather odd place for Arni to seek warmth, connection, intimacy. He is a man of sensitivity not quite useful in an environment of inevitable commotion. In fact, his stillness and naivety are emblems of cinema’s losers and his face, arid and devoid of happiness, are the film’s main weapon of empathy. This is a man badly in need of protection and sympathy. Will he find it?
Maybe he will, but in a unusual place. Before one show, the circus troupe purchases a snake. Unfortunately, the snake is too large for the purpose it’s intended. The slimy vendor offers a reason it is a great buy. “More money,” he says, as though the reptile’s extra girth and inches are a form of currency. In any case, the new performer is barely used, maybe out of fear. As someone says, a snake can’t be controlled. But its terrifying presence is like Chekhov’s gun, a sensation that is only heightened by a foreboding soundtrack whenever it’s onscreen. This hackneyed trope becomes even more so as the plot ticks by.
There is, of course, a bit of danger with the animal. Nothing that huge can ever be entirely under control. But Arni, as he goes through life with his acquired family, barely smiling, seems to know what he is doing in this dour story that should win festival slots — and, with some luck, find a willing distributor for European screens.
Overall, Arni shows a sensitive filmmaker at the start of her career. It isn’t obvious yet what her voice is like but, with any luck, that should become clear as the years and projects roll by. What is certain is that Vermes is adept at casting, and choosing the exceptional Peter Turi, a student at Hungary’s University of Theater and Film Arts, is a masterstroke.
Director: Dorka Vermes
Screenplay: Péter Dobány, Petra Al-Farman
Cast: Péter Turi, Andrea Spolarics, Zoltán Gyöngyösi, Zoltán Koppány, Botond Kovács, Dorottya Gellért, Pálya Pompónia
Cinematographer: Péter Lehr-Juhász
Editor: Dávid Kántor
Producer: Zachar Balázs
Executive Producer: Viktória Petrányi
Production Company: Proton Cinema
Venue: Venice Film Festival (Biennale College Cinema)
Duration: 103 minutes
In Hungarian