This won’t be the first review complaining about the dearth of lead roles for women over 50, nor will it be the last. That’s not enough reason to praise Kaltrina Krasniqi’s deceptively unembroidered feature debut Vera Dreams of the Sea, which has plenty going for it, but the strength of Teuta Jegeni Ajdini’s characterization, aided by Doruntina Basha’s lucid screenplay, is a reminder of how much we lose when relegating “women of a certain age” to colorless mamas, kooky neighbors or controlling harridans. The film, which premiered in Venice’s Orizzonti section and won the Grand Prix in Tokyo, tells of a recent widow’s struggle against Kosovo’s domineering patriarchy, revealing an urban society still bound by village dictates. Basha’s nuanced script rejects simplistic notions of heroism, presenting flawed, complex figures within a lean narrative that will play well internationally and should see scattered distribution.
There’s something almost telegraphic in the way the first eight minutes tell us so much of what we need to know, balancing a sense of optimism with an underlying understanding of systemic corruption, and yet none of it feels lacking in detail. Vera (Jegeni Ajdini) is eager to get through the day’s work as a sign language interpreter for the TV news, in order to prepare everything for the 65th birthday of her husband Fatmir (Xhevat Qorraj). She’s just learned there’s a handsome offer for the house they own in a nearby village, now that a highway will be built nearby, and she’s dreaming of all the things they can do with the money. She doesn’t notice that Fatmir’s response to the news is far less positive. On returning to their apartment after a quick errand, Vera discovers that Fatmir has killed himself in the bathroom.
The scene is a model of discretion in which the still, silent framing reveals Vera trying to get inside the bathroom door, blocked, we presume, by Fatmir’s body. She finally manages to push inside and then the camera slowly moves a little closer towards the shut door from which, after a few unbearable seconds, she re-emerges, struggling like someone suffocating to get out. Fatmir was a respected judge, and the shock for all is great. Vera gets a further surprise when her husband’s cousin Ahmet (Astrit Kabashi), overly demonstrable with his grief, tells her that Fatmir left the village house to him, for his son. He has no proof of course, but expects her to sign papers handing it over, which she naturally refuses to do.
Vera goes to the village and sits with the local men, led by malevolent “Uncle” Avdyl (Selman Jusufi), who claims to have witnessed Fatmir’s promise, adding that since Vera has only a daughter, Sara (Alketa Sylaj), and according to tradition women can’t inherit property, it’s inevitable that Ahmet should get the house. Ahmet’s agitation (and later a bruised cheek), together with that of his wife Elmaze (Aurita Agushi), are clear signs they’re being used by other forces to pressure Vera, who’s determined to stand firm.
Yet resolve is not one of her characteristic traits: Sara complains that her mother never stood up for either herself or her daughter, instead too often playing the role of dutiful wife rather than acting as a role model. Their complicated relationship is fractious. Sara – a single mother and actress with an experimental theater troupe – embodies a generation aligned with Western European mores, while Vera is a bridge between stubbornly resilient, socially conservative Kosovan society and a more forward-thinking outlook. Things take a dark turn when Vera realizes there are threatening forces around her, from thugs knocking into her at the supermarket to prank calls, to more worrying intimidation on a road at night. Elmaze tells her a compromising video revealing Fatmir’s gambling addiction will be made public if she doesn’t relinquish the house, but Vera is unwilling to sign away her rights and say goodbye to the plans she has for the money.
It was particularly clever making Vera a sign language interpreter, since it sets up a nice tension between her years of silence – “shut up and never forget your place” is how Sara describes her maternal guidance – and this newfound determination to hold on to what’s rightfully hers. Standing up to the patriarchy isn’t a role she’s used to, but Fatmir’s suicide has freed her in a way, giving her the initial courage to resist the threats, until things get really out-of-hand. Another nice touch is the brief dream sequences of Vera in a bright blue sea where freedom beckons, but also the potential for drowning.
Macedonian theater actress Jegeni Ajdini is ideally cast, underplaying her scenes and conveying a woman whose life has been one of cautious perseverance. It’s debatable whether the brief glimpses of Sara on stage with the experimental company add anything substantive, though it could be argued they show her as someone reaching for meaning beyond traditional restrictions. Music is welcomely restrained, as is Sevdije Kastrati’s beautifully measured camerawork
Director: Kaltrina Krasniqi
Screenplay: Doruntina Basha
Cast: Teuta Jegeni Ajdini, Alketa Sylaj, Refet Abazi, Astrit Kabashi, Xhevat Qorraj, Arona Zyberi, Armend Baloku, Aurita Agushi, Ilire Vinca, Selman Jusufi, Ernest Malazogu
Producer: Shkumbin Istrefi
Co-producers: Ognen Antov, Dionis Papadhimitri, Kaltrina Krasniqi
Cinematography: Sevdije Kastrati
Production design: Burim Arifi, Blendina Xhema
Costume design: Albulena Borovci
Editing: Vladimir Pavlovski, Kaltrina Krasniqi
Music: Petrit Çeku, Genc Salihu
Sound: Igor Popovski, Darko Spasovski
Production companies: Isstra Creative Factory (Kosovo), Dream Factory (North Macedonia), Papadhimitri Productions (Albania), Vera Films
World sales: Heretic
Venue: Thessaloniki International Film Festival (Meet the Neighbors)
In Albanian
87 minutes
