email print share on Facebook share on Twitter share on LinkedIn share on reddit pin on Pinterest

SERIE / RECENSIONI Serbia / Croazia / Slovenia / Finlandia

Recensione serie: The Last Socialist Artefact

di 

- L'atipica serie tv diretta dal croato Dalibor Matanić suscita un caldo sentimento di speranza a partire da un tema attuale, e presenta alti valori di produzione e interpretazioni eccellenti

Recensione serie: The Last Socialist Artefact
Krešimir Mikić e Rene Bitorajac in The Last Socialist Artefact

Questo articolo è disponibile in inglese.

A new mini-series currently screening in a prime-time slot on the schedules of the national broadcasters of Croatia and Serbia, The Last Socialist Artefact, was created by the well-established tandem consisting of producer Ankica Jurić Tilić and director Dalibor Matanić, and was written by Hana Jušić, Milan F Živković and Jelena Paljan. The six-episode show combines Matanić's arthouse sensibility with a timely topic, top-notch performances and high production values.

(L'articolo continua qui sotto - Inf. pubblicitaria)

Each episode is named after and focuses on one of the main characters, and the show starts off with shrewd businessman Oleg (Rene Bitorajac) and his apparently much less skilled cousin, retired engineer Nikola (Krešimir Mikić), arriving in the fictional town of Nuštin in an attempt to reopen a turbine factory. Once an industrial powerhouse, it went bust following the war in Yugoslavia, and the town is so remote that there is not even any mobile-phone signal there (the source novel by Robert Perišić is entitled No Signal Area).

In the first episode, which builds the series' world with humour and heaps of charm, we are introduced to the heroes. Oleg, who has a deal with a shady businessman from the Maghreb, first has to ensure that the new, shifty mayor of the town is on board with his plan, then dig out old, alcoholic engineer Janda (Izudin Bajrović) and get him to unlock the place for him, and only then will he be able to convince him to help get together a team of workers.

Meanwhile, in the town's only pub-restaurant, belonging to petrol-station owner Ragan (a quietly menacing Slavko Štimac), who will turn out to be the show's principal villain, a group of unemployed men are trying to decide whether to take on a gig in Afghanistan. This will be the core workforce of the factory, led by foreman Branoš (EFA-nominated Goran Bogdan).

Although Oleg initially appears to be just another Balkan hustler, he surprises everyone by insisting on the socialist-style form of self-management, which eventually convinces Janda to accept the offer. And Nikola, an introvert depressed after his divorce, gets appointed as the director of the factory and overcomes his social clumsiness with a couple of bold moves that win everybody's hearts – not least that of Šeila (Serbia's Jovana Stojiljković), an artist who has returned after a disappointing stint in Berlin. In this very male-dominated factory world, both Šeila and Oleg's love interest, waitress and wannabe singer Lipša (Tihana Lazović), will prove to be the decisive forces when things start going south.

Matanić directs with the best of his arthouse flair despite the show basically following all TV screenwriting rules. Some things do happen in a manner that is overly fast or not entirely clear – for example, Ragan is discarded somewhat too conveniently – but this is more than compensated for by the engaging characters and first-class performances. The casting is fool-proof: Bitorajac and Mikić are totally in their respective elements, but it is veteran Bosnian actor Bajrović who creates the most touching character arc. Stojiljković and Lazović again confirm their status as the most talented and radiant actresses of their generation.

Slovenian cinematographer Marko Brdar takes Matanić's light-and-shadow aesthetic to its absolute pinnacle and finds an ideal object in the industrial setting of the old factory, which Ivo Knezović's production design makes full use of. This is one of the blocks upon which the series builds a sort of time machine between the communist past and the present era of unbridled capitalism, and its most impressive achievement is eliciting a warm feeling of hope amidst the timely and often inevitably deflating topic of workers’ rights.

The Last Socialist Artefact is a co-production between Croatia's Kinorama, Serbia's Sense Productions, Slovenia's Perfo and Finland's Citizen Jane. Croatian national broadcaster HRT is the principal financier, and Serbia's RTS is a co-producer.

(L'articolo continua qui sotto - Inf. pubblicitaria)

(Tradotto dall'inglese)

Ti è piaciuto questo articolo? Iscriviti alla nostra newsletter per ricevere altri articoli direttamente nella tua casella di posta.

Privacy Policy