January
Shades of Bergman and Tarkovsky linger in a Bulgarian mystery-drama that is a genuine work of art.
Andrey Paounov’s January is by any standard a remarkable film yet it is surprising to find it getting a release in Britain. One reason for that is that this co-production is in essence a Bulgarian work and very few films from that country ever get shown in our cinemas. But its arrival is also unexpected for another reason: January is brilliantly made but so difficult to interpret that it raises the question of how enigmatic a film can be and still be regarded as one that should be recommended. What is never in doubt here is the cinematic quality of the film, something all the more striking given that Paounov’s work prior to this had been in the documentary field. Superbly shot in black-and-white and widescreen by Vasco Viana, January is even capable of prompting thoughts of Tarkovsky and Bergman and the casting of it is absolutely perfect (this is a film of wonderful faces). Apparently, it was inspired by a play written by Yordan Radichkov in 1974 but that only adds to one’s astonishment since what is on screen carries not the slightest trace of being a work with a stage origin.
Wikipedia describes the play as one highlighting the clash between the past and modernity, this in a village setting at a time when innovation leads to opposition between those who desire to communicate with others and those who favour living in isolation. In expressing this the play apparently blended elements of Bulgarian folklore with biblical allusions and these again feature in Paounov’s film. However, it takes place not in a village but in an isolated building looked after by a guard (Samuel Finzi) living there alone but for an old man (Iossif Surchadzhiev). They are waiting for the return of its owner, Petar Motorov, who left earlier that day sight unseen but is presumed to have set out through the woods on his horse-drawn sleigh to trade in the city that lies beyond. Two men (Zachary Baharov and Svetoslav Stoyanov) subsequently turn up because their snow plough has broken down in the extreme wintry weather and, later still, a priest (Leonid Yovchev) also finds his way there.
The situation depicted incorporates references that echo fairy tales, not least the sense that it is hazardous to go into the woods. Indeed, the old man, who has a black crow as a pet, talks of spirits out there that can take over your dreams and perhaps your whole self. Meanwhile, Petar Motorov proves as elusive as Beckett’s Godot, but his sleigh returns carrying a wolf that is completely frozen (there’s speculation that it is a foreign wolf of a kind found in Romania).
There seems little doubt but that January should be read as an allegory and some have seen in it a reflection on recent Bulgarian history. However, the semi-abandoned building carries a sense of something almost apocalyptic and the harsh weather conditions could reflect that too. Ivo Paunov’s music score adds to that feeling and the fact that the filming is in black and white is part and parcel of the film’s character. January never moves into the territory of the horror film but builds its own sense of unease (my favourite shot is probably the one when a second frozen wolf is placed beside the first one). Two elements grow ever stronger as the film proceeds: one is the uncertainty as to how much of what we see could be regarded as a dream which may or may not be that of somebody taken over in some way. But perhaps more potent still if one treats this as an allegory concerning the state of the world today is the uncertainty as to who can be trusted. The most striking example of this is the figure of the priest who claims that he is fighting evil while offering repentance to sinful man: could it be that he himself represents the devil?
That January is able to take such strange material and to make it compelling is an achievement in itself and it doesn't need a clear-cut resolution or explanation to impress. That said, the running length of 110 minutes does feel rather overlong and the later sequences increase our puzzlement in a way that is rather off-putting. Why, for example, should there be a short scene late on set in a bar in the city and why is there a subsequent section filmed in colour showing a restaurant empty of customers which reprises dialogue heard earlier? No less bizarre is a segment in which the guard carries an axe and is seen glimpsing children as he moves down a corridor. The reference to The Shining is self-evident, but what does it mean?
At its best January is so potent and so surprising in a good way that it clearly counts as a cinematic achievement. Nevertheless, any cinemagoers who expect a narrative to explain itself will regard this film as a waste of time. For myself I do regard January as a true work of art, but one too elusive to satisfy fully. Even so, I am glad to have seen it.
MANSEL STIMPSON
Cast: Samuel Finzi, Iossif Surchadzhiev, Zachary Baharov, Leonid Yovchev, Svetoslav Stoyanov, Borislav Chouchkov, Malin Krastev.
Dir Andrey Paounov, Pro Vanya Rainova and Svetoslav Stoyanov, Screenplay Alex Barrett and Andrey Paounov, Ph Vasco Viana, Pro Des Maria Paounova, Ed Francisco Moreira, Anastas Petkov and Victoria Radoslavova, Music Ivo Paunov, Costumes Nadya Dobrikova and Marieta Duncheva.
Portokal/Terratreme Filmes/Tarantula-Bulldog Film Distribution.
110 mins. Bulgaria/Luxembourg/Portugal. 2021. UK Rel: 27 January 2023. Cert. 12A.
