There is no one I know of who is so occupied with the space between a difficult past and an unknown future than the acclaimed, Lithuanian filmmaker Sharunas Bartas. This existential question originates in the transitioning of his country from Soviet occupation to independence. Coming out of this dreadful period of Lithuanian history, inheriting a deep existential crisis and the loss of trustful communication, his generation was confronted with a completely unclear idea of where to go to. What’s the life we want to live and how do we get there, given the baggage of our past?

In all four Bartas’ films I’ve seen this existential theme is very prominent. In his first film Three Days (1991), filmed right after the Lithuanian independence, two men and women are searching for shelter in a desolate Kaliningrad. Not only the outer space is dreadful, their inner life is also miserable and empty. Even to the degree that they have no energy to bother about one another. They roam around in this sphere of lovelessness.

In The Corridor (1995) it is a claustrophobic space in an apartment complex in the capital Vilnius, right after the independence. It is the corridor where the residents of the building must pass and meet one another. No one has reason to trust the other. How can they escape from this suffocating environment and start building something good for the future?

Bartas’ films are not easy to look at. They ask for a lot of decoding. They are, together with Hungarian Béla Tarr’s films, among the more gloomy films I’ve seen. There is very little or no dialogue, because there is really nothing to say. He does not make any concession to the viewer as it comes to understanding the film’s narrative. Colours are either black and white or earthy brownish. There is very little place for emotions in the acting. Bartas gives no answers; he asks the questions.

This week I saw Freedom from 2000, widely regarded as his most accessible film. Two men and a woman who seem to be illegal immigrants are in a boat, chased by the coast guard. They wash up at the shore, start a trek into the desert, trying to stay out of the hands of the coast guard. Once again, they have fled from a dreadful past, they have entered into an uncertain, quite hopeless present without any sight on a hopeful future. Language and racial differences get in the way of creating true communication and care among them. They stumble towards a future about which they lack any idea of what it might consist of and what freedom and meaning it could bring.

In the faces of his protagonists there is an ongoing conversation between optimism and pessimism. Pain, loneliness and desire can be read in their eyes. Moments of flickering hope alternate with shattered expectations. Nature is the antidote to human misery; the birds, the crabs and the waves seem to have more plan, more belongingness and freedom, more peace than human beings ever seem to be able to attain. Visually the film is spectacular.

These are the questions I take away from my exposure to these films of Sharunas Bartas:

• How do I view my past?
• What baggage from my past is bothering me in the present?
• What enables me to take steps into the unknown future?

Rinus, Oct 2020

*image posted for non commercial purposes under ‘fair use’ of copyright material in recommendation of the film