Lessons from Blaga review: Brutal drama packs a provocative punch - Karlovy Vary Int'l Film Festival

The lessons learned in this black German-Bulgarian co-production are very dark indeed, a realistic social-drama which takes a shockingly unexpected turn in its heartbreaking climax. The film's recent victory at Karlovy Vary, where it won the Grand Prix in the Crystal Globe competition, should give it a welcome boost on the arthouse circuit, but the unwary are warned that the latest long footage from Stephan Komandarev packs a punch not seen since Lars Von Trier or Michael Haneke in their provocative heyday.

Blaga (Eli Skorcheva) is a widow, grieving after the recent death of her beloved husband Hristo, a former policeman. After saving, she plans to buy land to bury him, 40 days after his death, with a custom-made double headstone for the two of them. Hristo "believed in Lenin more than in Jesus", but Blaga's desire to substitute a cross for a red star is expressly prohibited by Bulgarian law. Agreeing to pay 2,000 Bulgarian lev ($1,150), she compromises on a black one, telling the seller she will return with the money.

What happens next is tightly choreographed, a tense mini-masterclass that takes place in the confines from Blaga's dull, brutalist apartment. The phone rings and a man calling himself Inspector Kolev quickly gives the old woman her contact information, warning her that she has been targeted by a gang of violent robbers. As Kolev is on the landline, his cell phone rings and an angry voice asks him to put all his savings in a plastic bag and drop it on the floor from his balcony, or they'll "cut your head off". Kolev tells him to do as the voice says, assuring him that criminals can only be arrested if caught in the act. Blaga puts everything she's got in the bag, throwing down her gold wedding ring for good measure, and waits, terrified, for the police reinforcement Kolev insists is on its way.

Except there is no back-up, and Blaga is prey to a sophisticated scam that, on reflection, seems ridiculous, especially for a retired schoolteacher. Blaga feels the public humiliation and recriminations (“What normal person would have all that money at home?”) acutely, especially when she tries to raise the money she still needs for her husband's grave. The bank won't help her, her estranged son lives in the United States, and in her early 70s she is too old for the job market. After attending a seminar on the dangers of phone scams, Blaga learns that the culprits are operating in neighboring Romania, using local patsies to collect the money. With the help of one of her students, she decides to join them, using underworld jargon to offer her services as a driver with "flexible hours".

There's a lot of potential for comedy in this kind of storyline — exploited last year in the sometimes darkly funny Emily the Criminal - but there's not a shred of it here. Like the highlights of the recent Romanian New Wave, Komandarev uses gender to examine humanity: his traveling camera studies Blaga like an anthropologist would, showing the small character traits that will bear fruit in the most extreme imaginable. Key to that is Skorcheva (deserved winner of the Karlovy Vary Best Actress Award) as the gnomic Blaga; it may not seem like it, but she is a powder keg about to explode: you can see it in her pedantry, in the self-loathing she feels after losing her dignity with her money, and the unspoken, existential pain of being invalid. ..