Mothering, Bulgarian-style, in Maya Vitkova's gorgeous personal/political oddity, VIKTORIA

What a knockout (for a good while, at least) is VIKTORIA, the near-new (made in 2014) film from Maya Vitkova, shown below, which is said to be based somewhat on the filmmaker's own life -- with a little magic realism/ absurdity tossed in for good measure. We've long heard that popular phrase advising us that "the political is personal" -- or is it the other way around? -- but seldom do we see something that brings this idea to such specific life, if in awfully free-ranging fashion.

Viktoria, the character, is the spawn of Boryana and her live-in boyfriend who occupy a one-room apartment with Boryana's mom.The movie begins with their morning lovemaking, with mom unhappily listening. Well, this is Bulgaria under Communism, so there's little chance for even a separate bedroom. Though mom is still a true believer, who, according to Boryana, sacrificed her daughter's betterment for that of the Communist Party's, Boryana herself seems like a person drained of all hope. When her BF asks what they will name the baby he expects to have just helped conceive, she asks blankly, "What baby?"

And, yes, there is a baby -- an absolute delight of a cutie, above, who is born without a belly button (we won't get into how this is medically possible; that's part of the magic realism/symbolism on display) and so becomes a "hero" of the People's Republic of Bulgaria, and a clear sign to the powers- that-be that Bulgarian babies no longer need umbilical cords. What a country!

Ms Vitkova's rendition of the country's Communist leaders, along with her hilarious portrayal of Viktoria's education and elementary school years, where she is played by the very game Daria Vitkova (above, and the filmmaker's niece) -- how the power structure facilitates her every wish and need -- shows us a country that seems to have grown stupider with each ensuing decade. No wonder our Boryana is depressed.

She is also, as portrayed by actress Irmena Chichikova, shown above and below, one hell of a beauty, with a face the camera just loves. And this is where Vitkova begins to go a bit off-kilter. She sticks that camera on Chichikova's lovely, dark, deep face far too often and too long. For awhile we're so besotted with this weird tale and the pyrotechnics of the Communist nit-witticisms that we march along happily, both marvelling at and appalled by what we see and hear.

But the movie goes on for over two and one-half hours, and once the fall of Communism occurrs and Capitalism has reared its almost equally ugly head, much of the fun goes out of the film, and we're left with a little too much artsy-fartsy. feminist-to-a-fault filmmaking that drains the energy from Viktoria, both the character, who by now is a very sad young adult (played by Kalina Vitkova, another of the filmmaker's nieces, shown below), and the film itself.

This is too bad, because there is so much to recommend about the movie, from its use of symbolism -- cutting the other umbilical cord to the red-button phone (below) that links Viktoria to her country's leader, and showing us the great need for (and multitudinous ways to dispense) milk -- to its rich cinematography (by Krum Rodriguez) to the director's often buoyant and funny visual and verbal sense (Ms Vitkova also wrote the ambitious screenplay).

The film has its own rhythm, as well, and it's quite slow, and sometimes repetitious. But as the three generations of women we meet break further apart and then try to feebly bond again, the movie also begins to turn a bit too sentimental -- even if Vitkova does not, thankfully, go all out in this direction. We hope for better days for at least two of the three generations, for Viktoria especially. But given what we see and learn about Bulgaria through these eyes, the future is not particularly bright. There's an enormous and very real longing here for "elsewhere."  Venice, anyone?

Viktoria -- a Bulgaria/Romania co-production released in the USA by Big World Pictures and running 156 minutes -- opens in its U.S. theatrical premiere this Friday, April 29, in New York City at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema and IFC Center, and on May 13 in Chicago at Facets Cinematheque, and then in Los Angeles on June 10 at Laemmle's Royal. Elsewhere? Maybe, if some positive word-of-mouth builds. Goodness knows, this movie does not easily compare with much else you'll have seen. And for real film buffs, that may be enough to entice.

Robin Hessman's MY PERESTROIKA: Up-close-and-personal with the Soviet nation

The first thing we see (shown immedi-ately below) in MY PERESTROIKA -- the alternately enchanting, depres-sing and surprising documentary from Robin Hessman -- is one of those typi-cally ridiculous parades/displays, complete with fresh-faced children, de-signed to convince the world, not to mention the Russian people, how fabu-lous it is living under the Communist regime, circa 1977. Of course, we think: business as usual. And then the narration begins, and we learn that, even then, it had become clear to many Russians that Communism was on its last legs. Once we meet and spend some time with the five middle-aged protagonists of the film, so similar are so many of their thoughts and feelings, not to mention the prime events that make up their lives, that it soon seems as though we could be listening to our own friends and neighbors -- except that these folk are speaking in a noticeably foreign tongue.

Further, if the Russian people themselves were deluded by their government, so were we by our own, especially in how we were told about the horrors of growing up in Russia. Granted, this documentary, that covers the last generation of children to come of age under Communism and tracks them into adulthood, deals with a very bourgeoise group of kids/adults. I doubt that Russian's poor would find all that much in common with the lives on display here. Nor would America's poor, I suggest, discover a lot of similarity to most of our documentaries that deal with middle-class pursuits.

What Ms Hessman (pictured at right) has given us, in addition to a very interesting slice of personal histories, then and now, is an eye-opening look at what unites us despite -- maybe because of -- the pronoun-cements of our "great leaders." As do so many of the best films from (or that cover) for-eign soil, whether narrative or docu-mentary, this one slips us into the shoes of the other. You might say that My Perestroika makes Russians of us all.  (All us middle-class viewers, at least.)

The filmmaker weaves present and past beautifully together via old footage and new, found photos and reminiscences that her subjects seem -- if not happy, at least -- willing to share. Lyuba (above) and her husband Borya (below, left) now teach at the same school in which they were pupils decades ago, while their son Mark (below, right) also attends there.

Andrei -- below, shown attending the grand opening of one of his exclusive men's shops, at which are sold only French shirts and ties -- is clearly the most "well-off" of the group. His "distance" is shown not only in his fairly luxuriant surroundings, but via his attitude on just about everything that's discussed here. (His "take" on voting should particularly resonate with today's Americans.)

Olga, below, always the prettiest girl in the class, has had one of those lives that seem to have peaked in or soon after school days; her story is in some ways the most depressing due to the extremes she has known. Yet she perseveres with resilience and something akin to spirit.

Remember the kid who was always the outsider?  The one who would either remain that way or maybe blossom into some kind of creative computer genius. Ruslan (below, right) the last of Hessman's group seems to have remained dedicated to his music (he had a fairly successful band for several years) but now plays in subways, does the occasional nostalgia event and lives and works pretty much "off the books." He also has a son (below, left), and his quiet talk with the boy about "fitting in" and getting through the doludrums of schools days, is one of the film's highlights.

What we don't get from My Perestroka is any step-by-step progress through modern Russian history. If you've kept abreast at all, however, there is enough explanation here that you should have little trouble figuring things out and understanding the ideas and feeling of these five and their families, even if certain events seems a tad glossed over. (Were the supermarkets and stores, empty of food and clothing after the fall of Communism as Capitalism was haltingly embraced, really so easily worked around?)

Still, there's enough in this 87-minute movie to keep intelligent audiences glued to the screen and wondering, maybe for the first time, what it might have been like had they grown up Russian during the final quarter of the century past.  My Perestroika, from International Film Circuit, opens this Wednesday, March 23, in New York at IFC Center. The film will also be playing around the country in a dozen major cities (and on one small island) in the months to come. Click here for dates and locations.

All photos above courtesy of Red Square Productions.