No matter how many films you’ve seen, there’s always something new and unusual to be discovered in the wonderful world of motion pictures. Pacific Film Archive, of course, is happy to oblige those of us eager to explore new cinematic territory — and this coming weekend is no exception.
Until Astenicheskiy sindrom (The Asthenic Syndrome, screening at 7 p.m. Friday, April 28) popped up on the PFA schedule as part of the ongoing series “Odessa’s Uncompromising Eccentric: The Films of Kira Muratova,” I’d never heard of the Soviet-era director. Born in Moldova (once a Soviet republic, now a small, landlocked country sandwiched between Ukraine and Romania), Muratova went to film school in Moscow before moving to the port city of Odessa, where she worked until her death in 2018.
The Asthenic Syndrome was produced during perestroika, the period of reform that preceded the eventual dissolution of the Soviet Union in late 1991. Unsurprisingly, the film lacks the usual qualities we associate with Soviet-era cinema: There’s neither the ideological rigidity and technical prowess that defined the 1920s and ’30s, nor the lyrical ecstasies of the mid-20th century Khrushchev years.
Choosing neither to bite its tongue or risk offending the authorities, The Asthenic Syndrome feels like the product of a country on the edge of a nervous breakdown — which, of course, it was. Divided into two parts, it begins at a funeral and ends in a madhouse; the first part is a “film within a film” shot in black and white, the second (and much longer) segment is in color.
In part one, we meet devastated widow Natasha (Olga Antonova). Natasha is trying to negotiate life without her recently deceased husband, but all she can do is break wine glasses, angrily wander the streets, and seduce drunks into regrettable assignations.
Just as we settle in for a long, depressing slice of neo-realism, Muratova shifts our perspective: rather than watching “real life,” we’ve actually been part of a fractious cinema audience watching a long, depressing slice of neo-realism. At film’s end, a host invites patrons to stay for a Q&A with the film’s star (also Antonova) but most of the audience quickly scurry away. The “film within a film” is too close to the bone: a disgruntled salary man mutters “what’s the use of movies like this? I’m already sad and tired from work” as he rushes to the subway.
There’s one person left behind in the cinema: school teacher Nikolai (Sergei Popov), who suffers from the titular condition and has simply fallen asleep during the screening. The balance of Muratova’s film relates Nikolai’s losing battles with fatigue, debility and rebellious students uninterested in his lectures on the threat posed to society by bourgeois individualism.
Whether purgative, polemic or absurdist black comedy, The Asthenic Syndrome is a fascinating examination of a decaying society. Don’t be put off by its almost two-and-a-half-hour running time.
If you prefer something lighter, campier, or simply outré, Hua jai tor ra nong
(The Adventure of Iron Pussy, screening at 7 p.m. on Saturday, April 29, as part of the series “Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s Cinema of Now“) delivers in spades. A musical comedy about a gender-fluid detective, the film will appeal to those who appreciate such over-the-top and hyper-stylized Thai features as Tears of the Black Tiger (2000). Don’t miss this one — it may be the silliest film ever screened at PFA!
