The High Sun blends nuanced naturalistic performances, impeccable cinematography and arresting visuals
Points: 8
Winner of the Un Certain Regard Jury Prize at Cannes, Croatian director Dalibor Matanic’s Zvidan (The High Sun) takes an empathetic, yet never facile look at the cracks left by the wars in the former Yugolasvia, which have divided the country as well as its men and women — be them youngsters or elders. A Croatian village and a Serbian one are the main locations where three stories of love beyond frontiers take place across three decades, with the same seasoned actors strikingly playing different characters. From a different perspective, each story focuses on diverse shades of the same conflict - from tragic to distressing to somewhat hopeful.
The first story transpires in 1991, right before the war and in time of imminent danger. It’s a hot, sunny summer by the lake and Serbian Jelena (Tihana Lazovic) and Croatian Ivan (Goran Markovic) are very much in love. She’s a temperamental blonde and he’s a boyish trumpet player. The next day they will flee to Zagreb so they can live in relative tranquility, but Jelena’s brother is determined not to allow her to do so since her boyfriend is “on the enemy side.” Don’t expect a happy ending.
Next, it’s 2001 and the war has already finished. Natasha (Lazovic) is a sullen teenager who together with her patient mom (Nives Ivankovic) returns to their home wrecked to pieces. Devastated by the loss of loved ones, they do their best to move on. But when mother hires a repairman to help them rebuild their house, Ante (Markovic), Natasha doesn’t accept his presence since he’s “one of them” — meaning the people who killed his brother. Heated arguments, much sorrow and unforeseen sexual anxiety ensue.
Finally, the year is 2011 and though the war has been over for a decade, hurting memories and open wounds are still to be felt. College student Luka (Markovic) returns to his hometown alongside his best pal Ivno (Stipe Radoja) to attend a rave. Drugs and alcohol set up a party atmosphere, and yet Luka can’t have any real fun since the remembrance of a girl he did wrong to still persists. Let alone seeing his down in the dumps parents once again. But perhaps, only perhaps, this time there might be light at the end of the tunnel.
While the three episodes are basically equally dramatic, and to a major or lesser degree, they are also equally suspenseful, the first one and the last are the ones which strike chords of deeper resonance. Not that the second is flimsy, but it ends on a naïve note that doesn’t do much justice to the general state of loss. It could be argued that the first tale goes for shock value, but even if that’s the case then it still makes sense and it is credible. The last story needs almost no words to convey its wide emotional scope with welcomed subtlety.
Just like the nuanced naturalistic performances, the impeccable cinematography is to be celebrated — let alone the seamless editing and the montage sequence that divides the first story from the second. Visuals are arresting not necessarily because they’re technically flawless, but instead because they build up the right moods and the overall ambiance for both each single story and the film as a whole.
Think that instead of being an agitated film about war, Zvidan opts for a humanistic take on how zealous love is affected to a breaking point before, during, and after a war. With a slight degree of optimism included.
Production notes
Zvidan / The High Sun (Croatia, Serbia, Slovenia, 2015) Written and directed by Dalibor Matanic. With Tihana Lazovic, Goran Markovic, Nives Ivankovic, Dado Cosic, Stipe Radoja, Trpimir Jurkic, Mira Banjac. Cinematography: Marko Brdar. Production designer: Mladen Ozbolt. Costume designer: Ana Savic-Gecan. Editor: Tomislav Pavlic. Music: Alen Sinkauz, Nenad Sinkauz. Production company: Kinorama. Running time: 123 minutes.
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