Viktor Gjika's THE SECOND NOVEMBER: Albanian Cinema Project debuts first-ever showing outside Albania of landmark film

This past Wednesday, March 27, proved a red-letter day for Albanian film, as the Albanian Cinema Project (ACP), Colorlab Corporation, and New York University presented the first digital restoration and English language subtitled adaptation of renowned Albanian filmmaker Viktor Gjika’s 1982 feature, The Second November (Nëntori i dytë). The film tells the story of events leading up to Albania’s independence from Ottoman rule on November 28, 1912. Last year celebrated the 100th anniversary of that independence.

Until this past Wednesday evening, TrustMovies -- like most Americans (film lovers or not) -- had never seen (nor even heard of) an Albanian film, so the opportunity to view one, particularly one said to be as important as this, had to be accepted. (TM did see last year The Forgiveness of Blood, set and made in Albania, but by an American director.)

Directed by Gjika (shown at left) and written by Kiço Blushi, The Second November was made in 1982 and premiered that November, yet has never screened outside of Albania. On November 3, 2012, the restored version opened the "13th Festival of Albanian Film in the 100th Independence Year” at the Millennium Cinema in Tirana, Albania, to much acclaim.

This marked the world’s first restoration of an Albanian film and an international co-operation between filmmakers, film labs, archives, academics and activists to help preserve the Albanian film heritage. Nëntori i dytë is the first of five films that ACP will preserve over five years. Albania’s film archives, though they hold unique insights into one of Europe’s most complex countries, are also said to be in some danger these days, due to lack of funding.

The film itself, I am happy to say, proved a relatively enjoyable experience. My own meager understanding of Albania and its film history may have been a help to that enjoyment, for when one knows almost nothing about a subject, this "blank canvas" situation can make for quite a learning experience. First of all, I was more than a little surprised to learn that Albania as a nation only came into being after 1900. I'd imagined that it existed -- like Hungary, Poland and other Eastern European nations (despite a lot of border disputes & geographical changes) -- for hundreds of years. Hardly.

So this tale, which takes place over a rather short period of time, explains in only 93 minutes a kind of shorthand version of how nationalism and the spirit of a people, led by only a few brave leaders and their followers, managed to cling to their ideals over a cross-country trip by, what looked to my small understanding, their main leader, Ismail Quemali (shown above), enduring lots of threats and entreaties to quit (but no actual battles or violence), finally ending in the city of Vlora, where the Albanian flag is raised amidst much celebration and excitement.

One of our hosts for the evening, the lovely and well-spoken Regina M. Longo, director of the Albanian Cinema Project, explained pre-screening that the movie was full of history, drama and -- yes -- some melodrama. She was right. Even as full of cliche as is the film, when that cliche is dished out of an exotic location, it can be quite charming. The acting was capable, and the screenplay interesting from an historical angle, chock full of exposition as it was.

Probably most impressive was the splendid work accomplished by Colorlab Corp. to make this film look so spanking new and pristine. This digital restoration is a joy to view. There is plenty of history here, along with politics, religion (that's a Quizzling kind of religious leader, shown above, right), tradition vs. modernization -- with Turkey, Serbia and Greece all laid out against little Albania.

Told via fairly broad strokes and obvious storytelling, the movie still manages to build up a nice head of steam as time runs out and miles are still ahead to travel. The scenes with the telegraph operator and the young messenger (above) are charming, as are those involving the flag-making women (below) doing their version of the Albanian Betsy Ross.

There are songs, too, and lots of nationalistic feeling on view. Having also just seen the new documentary on Smyrna in this same week (about which I'll have more to say next week), which details the horrifying end of one of the world's most cosmopolitan cities just two decades after the birth of Albania, I must say that the documentary makes a good case against nationalism, and for cosmopolitanism.

Still, The Second November should arouse some nationalistic ardor from even the most placid cosmopolites. And since the oppressor here is Turkey -- that genocidal country that even now refuses to admit to its Armenian massacres, let alone the destruction of the city of Smyrna -- one can only hope and murmur, in the words of another "Holocausted" people, "Never again!"

We'll await the upcoming, restored Albanian films -- we're promi-sed one per year -- with great interest. The Second November, being Albanian to its core, was a good movie to start with, so it will be interesting to learn what other kinds of films this little country has made. Mean-while, for more information on the Albanian Cinema Project and Albanian film, click here.

Besa me mucho: The Albanian concept of "honor" gets a grueling workout in Joshua Marston's THE FORGIVENESS OF BLOOD

Besa is a word -- as is it used in the new American-Albanian film THE FORGIVENESS OF BLOOD -- that TrustMovies has had no acquaintance with prior to now. According to the Wikipedia definition (found in the link embedded in the first word of this post), besa has most to do with the concept of honor -- at least, honor as understood by Albanians -- the keeping of it and the breaking of it. (The word also comes into play in the history of Albanian Muslims who saved their Jewish countrymen during the Holocaust.) "Honor," in all its nitwit cultural glory, is at the heart of the trouble that plagues our hero, Nik (played by newcomer Tristan Halilaj), a high-school student who is forced, along with his younger brother, into a kind of permanent "house arrest" due to the death of a member of a neighboring family in which Nik's father and uncle were involved.

Filmmaker Joshua Marston, shown at left, who earlier gave us Maria Full of Grace, appears to be a fellow most interested in how other cultures and their people live. "Maria" was set in Mexico (and later here in Jackson Heights, Queens, where I, too, live), while "Forgive-ness/Blood" takes place in Albania. In both films, the details of life and occupation -- how things work -- are at the forefront. We leave each movie with our understan-ding increased.

This does not mean that we much like what we see. In both cases, Marston has set his focus on a young person (in this case, Nik, above) whose life ought to stretch in front of him, full of opportunity. Instead, he is hamstrung by the culture, history and society around him, and kept under the foot of those more wealthy and powerful.

From the outset, as a truck drives over a road and large rocks are moved out of the way so the truck can progress, we learn that this land is now owned by a powerful family that refuses to give the right-of-use for that road, even though for decades previous it was used by everyone, as needed. In fact, Nik's family used to own the land that this road is on, and they allowed its use by all -- which makes the current situation even more intolerable.

But wait. Nik's father seems clearly the kind of guy spoiling for a fight yet not quite ready to take responsibility for his actions, post-fight. Whatever law enforcement exists in Albania, we don't see much of it here or understand how it works; instead, it appears that some code of honor reigns supreme and families are expected to abide by it, come what may. What comes is death. We don't see the actual murder or accident, only what precedes it, but this is enough to make pretty clear what has happened: two members of Nik's family have overcome one armed member of the other. (For all we know, Nik's dad and uncle may have been armed, as well.)

Under this honor code, the "slighted" family has the right to kill a male from the other family, and as Nik's dad has gone missing and his uncle is already in jail, this leaves Nik and his younger brother as possible next victims. Consequently they're confined to their house: No school, no leaving under any circumstance. What transpires from here on is equal parts unsettling and, it must be said, a bit boring, as Nik begins to go stir crazy (above), sneaks out at night, builds a ersatz "gym," and generally makes himself annoying. Well, he's at that hormonal age...

The family's employment seems to center around delivering bread, but his sister, above, is trying to make ends meet by also selling cigarettes (there's a fertile black market going on). Meanwhile, the nasty family resorts to everything from the harassment of sis to burning down the barn. The besa comes into play, when, according to what we see, Nik and his brother are suddenly given this besa, which apperars to function like a holiday of sorts from house arrest, allowing them to leave the house and return to school. Much is made of this but how it actually works and why remains a little sketchy. It all comes down to "honor" once again, and at this point in time, from what we know about how "honor" is practiced in Muslim countries -- you can kill your family member if she's been raped (Bliss), or make her a prisoner if you think she's behaving badly (When We Leave), perhaps it's time to find another word for this "honor" thing -- which in the Muslim culture to often seems more like simple-minded masculine entitlement -- with Allah's blessing, of course.

The Forgiveness of Blood proves alternately suspenseful and irritating, moving and then slow-moving (there were times I could have used a besa from the film itself), and finally sad and maybe just a little hopeful: Wherever Nik ends up, it's gotta be better than here. The movie, distributed by Sundance Selects, opens this Friday, February 24, in New York City (at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema and Landmark's Sunshine Cinema) and in the Los Angeles area (at the Landmark NuArt, where Mr. Marston will be making an in-person appearance on Friday, 2/24; on March 2 it expands to the Laemmle's Monica 4-Plex and Pasadena Playhouse 7).  It will make its way to other theaters soon, as well. Click here to view some of these.