27/04/2017 - Swedish director Anna Eborn is competing at Visions du Réel in Nyon with her highly-strung portrait of an elderly woman who seems to waver outside of space and time

Lida [+see also:
trailer
film profile] by Anna Eborn, screened in the international competition at Visions du Réel, sketches out the portrait of an elderly woman with an outlook and smile as enigmatic as they are coquettish, as if hidden within Babouschka’s imposing and unsteady body were a mischievous and secretive young girl. Lida is a survivor, still standing despite all the deprivation she has suffered in her life: the deprivation of Sweden in the 1930s and the Siberian work camps.

Today Lida lives in a Ukranian hospice, located in a small town where a group of elderly people, including her mysterious lover who we are only made aware of at the very end of the film, have found refuge. What led Lida all the way to the Ukraine? Why did she choose to move far away from everything and everyone in her life, cutting off all lines of communication with her nearest and dearest? Right from the start, what seems incredibly antithetical, inexplicable and engaging about this film is the contrast between the tragic backdrop against which Lida’s life has played out: her past in Siberia, the simplicity of her life in the Ukraine and her voluntary estrangement from her family in Russia (particularly from her sister, who has never forgotten her, and her son Arvid), and her life force, the sense of mystery she emanates. The magnificent photography by Anna Eborn, which is at times reminiscent of the polaroid shots of great director Andreï Tarkovski, is tinged right from the beginning of the film with pastel colours (pink first and foremost), which it is hard to link up to the tale told by Lida who, with her monotone voice (which we hear in a voiceover), talks to us about her memories, about the life she’s lived. The colours of the film, like those of a magnificent sunset, amplify the individuality of the character even more, as she is transformed into a timeless and stateless sprite, a tangle of memories and mysteries. Unlike the icons covering the walls of the house of her son, Lida seems more of a secular mystic, imperfect and therefore extremely human. The contrasts that permeate Anna Eborn’s film compel us to reflect on History (with a capital ‘H’) in a new light: a stage on which everyone expresses themselves in their own way, some to please a cruel audience, and some, like Ida, who stand with their heads held high, free and unbiased regardless of the consequences. A (destructive?) force that continues to inhabit her in spite of everything.

Lida navigates between dreams and reality, between historical and personal truth and the past and the present throughout, presenting us with avenues of exploration (made up of colours and actions) that we’re free to pursue or not, sensations we are given the chance to lose ourselves in. Despite the many languages that live side by side in Lida’s head (one of the last people to speak an ancient Swedish dialect spoken by a Swedish colony dating back to the 18th century), it is her gestures and gestuality (as her son puts it) that makes her unique, revealing the only truth she allows us access to. Gestures which are like little pieces of a puzzle we don’t know the final design of.

Between suspense and experimentation, Lida loses itself in the infinite emotions of a person we won’t forget in a hurry. A strong and sublime film that pays tribute to all those who have chosen freedom in spite of everything.

Lida was produced by Danish company Adomeit Film with Swedish company Momento Film, with the support from Swedish Film Institute and Danish Film Institute. International sales are handled by Russian outfit ANT!PODE Sales & Distribution.

(Translated from Italian)