By Dimitri Keramitas
As the issue
of identity becomes an increasingly global one, filmmakers are delving into how
characters navigate troubled cultural, national and economic divides to remain
true to who they are - or merely to fit in.
Family
Member, Cyprus’ contribution to the recent “Week of Foreign Cinema in Paris”,
is one such film. It has been making the rounds at international festivals, where the questions it raises have resonated with audiences.
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| How does one fit in? A scene from Family Member. |
Interestingly, none of the characters in Marinos Kartikkis’ movie is in fact
“foreign” within the context of that divided country - they’re all
Greek-Cypriot.
The
catalyzing figure is an old man who worms his way into a Cypriot family (in
Greek, the word for foreigner, xeno, can also refer to any outsider or
stranger). Theodoros perturbs the family’s ways at first, and is barely
tolerated. But gradually he makes himself accepted and liked, becoming a
genuine “family member” (and also humanizing the others, who’d all seemed
wrapped up in themselves).
The film
begins as grim domestic and social tragedy. Yorgos (Christopher Greco) is a
convenience shop-owner struggling to survive in a depressed economy. He tries
to be lenient towards customers who can’t pay right away. In any case he
doesn’t have much choice: He can either hope for deferred payment, or do
without their business altogether.
Yorgos’ wife,
Sophia (Yiola Klitou), tries to hold the family’s domestic economy together,
but her children nag her for cash or the material things that Western kids
normally take for granted. The family gets by with the aid of her aged father’s
pension. The father lives with the family, which means that aside from the
monetary contribution, he can help care for Yorgos and Sophia’s young son. One
day he dies peacefully in his bed, which is not only a personal loss but a
financial one - the precious monthly pension.
Out of
desperation, Sophia gets the idea to keep the pension money coming by
pretending that her father is still alive. After the unrelenting social tone,
Kartikkis surprises us by sliding into blackly humorous melodrama, sort of like
Shallow Grave or any number of prankish indie films. But the social context
makes the plot creepily plausible. Sophia tries to persuade her husband to go
along, and his horrified reaction lends more plausibility before he agrees to
take the old man’s body to the cemetery for a secret burial. Even the children
are brought into the family plot (in every sense of the word).
When Yorgos later catches an old man shoplifting, he pounces on him like an avenging angel
but relents from turning him over to the police after the old man’s pleading
and the compassionate urging of Sophia. She also sees in the man another way to
further her scheme. Soon the old man is staying at their home, not only
assisting in the pension scam, but trying to be useful or at least keep out of
everyone’s way. The relationships between Theodoros and the family members
become more complex, sympathetic and human. But questions about his past life
arise, the family plot thickens, and the narrative moves in unexpected ways.
Family
Member’s director, a US-trained painter and art teacher, films in a careful
way, sometimes stately, other times nearly static. The four-square style plonks
the camera in front of the action, which is framed in relative close-up. It’s
an austere technique recalling the French director Robert Bresson, except here
the aim isn’t spiritual or iconic, but rather brings out characters pressurized
by external constraints. One shot feeds into the next fluidly, keeping the film
from feeling oppressive, although oppressiveness is the dominant tone.
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| A "family" dinner in the movie. |
The
director’s sober filming eventually wavers (which comes as a bit of a relief),
with a few headlong pans and vertiginous angles, but he never loses control.
The Cypriot setting lends itself to his style.
Although the island is situated
in the Mediterranean’s southern reaches, geographically more Middle Eastern
than European, with palm trees decorating the landscape, the urban backdrop
seems austere, evoking the island’s history as Crusader bastion, Frankish fief,
and British colony. This is also reflected in the characters, all solidly
portrayed by a talented cast. Christopher Greco and Yiola Klitou especially
bring restrained power to their put-upon characters.
In the end,
Theodoros turns out to be more foreign than he first appeared - not just
another Cypriot retiree, but someone who’d spent much of his life in England.
He comes to represent a different financial reality, from more normal times
(just as Sophia’s father, with his pension, had). For people in countries
struck by burst bubbles and failed austerity policies, economic normalcy has
become a paradise lost. The characters in Family Member find some material
consolation, but more importantly they regain their humanity in the process.
What the
director illustrates in a cogent manner is how the prolonged economic crises in
Cyprus and Greece have stressed not only society and family bonds, but the
sense of identity. Parents unable to provide for their families, forced into
degrading or dubious undertakings, see their self-image as breadwinners or
proper middle-class people fray. Likewise, one’s acquaintances, colleagues, and
customers become transformed into adversaries. The most banal government
officials are seen as nefarious oppressors. Although Family Member doesn’t deal
explicitly with migrants or refugees, the film is a powerful depiction of how
in a time of crisis everyone becomes an Other - even oneself.
Production:
AB Seahorse Film Production. Distribution: Homemade Movies (Cyprus).
Dimitri Keramitas
is a legal expert and award-winning writer based in Paris.
