Europe for grandmothers

Julija Zubavičienė is making a road movie. Along with her three grandmothers – Lida, Vanda and Liusia – she is travelling by car to England to her sister. Why there are three grandmothers, it is revealed in the beginning of the film "Lida Vanda Liusia". Lida's first husband Jura later married Vanda. Thus, another grandmother came into the life of the director. All grandmothers are non-Lithuanians. Lida fled from Georgia to Belarus in 1990. Vanda, Polish, came to Vilnius from Belarus. Liusia, of Russian origin, moved to Lithuania from Siberia back in 1980. On the trip through Europe along comes also Dominic, British friend of Julija. She always wanted to visit Eastern Europe and travel. So, women of different ages, nationalities and experiences hit the road.

In fact, visiting the grandmothers' granddaughter living in England is not the only purpose of the journey. As communicated in the opening titles – Julija wants to reconcile the grandmothers who are not particularly fond of each other. "If not for the trip, we would have seen each other maybe only at a funeral" – admits Liusia. Why they do not agree, one can only presume: youth betrayals, the same men loved, insulted ambition, envy. Grievances of youth are not quickly forgotten. It doesn't matter if more than forty years have passed.

The purpose defined at the beginning – to reconcile grandmothers – sounds a bit formal, but also gives a direction for the film. After all, you understand that a few days in one car are unlikely to offset several decades of the past. That, apparently, is understood by the director as well. Like she also understands the formula of the road movie: at the end the characters must change, their transformation must happen. So why not mention it at the beginning and give the viewer some expectation – what's the outcome of this whole journey?

It starts in somewhat everyday-routine manner, nothing extraordinary. They go, then stop, then go again. Grandmas remember their youth, tell of the times when they were young and had a lot of friends, when they experienced true love. The first longer stop is Warsaw. Here grandmothers sip wine in a café, try to get to know the fellow-traveller Dominic, visit the Museum of Modern Art where they watch video projection with a woman who is conceptually pulling crayfish from mud, and they pop into a hall where they mistake art exhibits for the repair waste. In Warsaw, one of the grandmothers – Lida – becomes unwell, the other one – Liusia – celebrates her birthday. At the table, two grandmothers again get into a gentle quarrel, simply because they make each other sick with questions and courtesies. Lida keeps repeating – "why can't we be friends", "like relatives why can't we be", to which Liusia replies – "there is no understanding", that's all.

The director provides grandmothers with space to talk, to quarrel, to just be on the screen. And she herself becomes a character. She tries to reconcile them, when necessary – to calm them. Camera, operated by Irina Šatalova, is very close, immediate, following the characters, focusing on details, on rarer occasions – retreating and looking around. Fairly simple image is being created, but without slipping to amateurishness.

While watching adventures of grannies in Europe, I asked myself – why is it interesting to watch this? Especially since there are some speculative, artificial scenes. For example, visit to the said museum of modern art. Here, the grannies, who have never seen such art, are released to run through the halls. There is no doubt that comic situations will come up, quite a lot of spicy material will be shot. Or the episode in the historical museum in Berlin. It becomes an ideal (how could it be otherwise) space for memories of the war that was experienced in the childhood, and also for discussions about the Soviet times while sitting by the moving video portraits of Lenin and Engels. Intentions of the granddaughter, as the film director, are clear. The grand history of Europe is also evoked by the visit to the Berlin Wall, while the current mood of the continent is reminded by marches, demonstrations (rainbow flag is being waved in one of them) or by the talks about prices in euros. The author's idea to remember the fate of Eastern Europe through the destinies of the grandmothers is interesting, but it somewhat lacked clearer articulation, depth.

The author also does not complicate the personal history of the family. She refrains from going into the reasons for friction between the grandmothers, does not ask them uncomfortable questions. But without going back to the old days, without raking up the past trying to understand what happened and why, reconciliations and transformations rarely happen. Here we can recollect the film "Father and Son" by the Polish director Pawel Lozinski that was screened in Vilnius a few years ago. The director is going to Paris by car with his father, famous documentary filmmaker Marcel Lozinski. On the road they are trying to reconnect, to understand each other's behaviour and attitude. They cannot do without complicated questions, without opening up old grievances and tensions. Lithuanian artist's starting point is very similar. However, in "Lida Vanda Liusia", the genre – the road movie – works more as the form, but less so – as the content. For us to believe in the actual transformation of the characters, it is not enough to write at the finale in white letters how their lives have changed after the trip or what they have understood. For example, that life is life, and you cannot do anything. Saying that doesn't tell much.

So – why was I interested watching the film? Because of the people on the screen. They are simple, lively, enjoying life, optimistic. Lithuanian documentary cinema rarely shows such people. I was also thinking, how much the naturalness and openness of grandmothers is related to their nationality. How much of it is determined by the Slavic blood. It is gratifying that the documentary is transcending local contexts and trying to cover more. Also the director's posture is commendable. Without pathos. Without artistic affectation. Without conscious intentions to shock with reality. Without desire to show its dark side, on which feed more than one Lithuanian filmmaker. She captures life. Such as it is. I was smiling after the film. Sometimes a smile is the best appreciation of the work.