A heady brew of sex, drugs and nihilism, Acid (Kislota), the directorial debut of 26-year-old actor Alexander Gorchilin, dissects the rigid societal pressures of the modern Russian man, with mixed results. Sasha (Filipp Avdeev) and Petya (Kiznetsov), two bros in their early twenties, struggle with a path forward after their friend flips out and jumps off a balcony. Their friendship starts to deteriorate when, after a night of partying (and a silly monologue by the film’s sole gay character), Petya commits a shockingly self-destructive act with a corrosive chemical. Acid follows these young men in crisis, as they embark down two distinct paths and eventually reconnect in a unforgettable church-set climax.
Although the film opens with LSD-induced tragedy, and there’s a hilarious out-of-left-field hallucination near the end, the mood is far less druggy than, say, Trainspotting. Stiff, frigid, and unpleasant, Acid works as a scathingly critical look at Russia, where church and state suffocate the youth into submission, leaving little room for freedom and creativity. Patriarchal values are promoted, but the families are broken; strict gender roles are adhered to, with violence as the way men settle things. After diffusing an argument with words, one character says to another: “You know I still have to hit you, right?” The Russia depicted here is severely hostile towards artists, with Sasha’s dreams of being a musician ridiculed, even by his best friend. Avdeev and Kuznetsov are both gifted actors, but their friendship is cold and unconvincing. This is where the film loses its way, struggling to form an effective coming-of-age story around two such broken, unlikeable people. Gorchilin’s film has the clumsy pretensions of a grand manifesto for the next generation, but offers few solutions to their problems other than to douse everything in acid.
At the opposite end of the cinematic spectrum, Sho Miyake’s woozy, dreamlike And Your Bird Can Sing is the fourth adaptation of work by the late novelist Yasushi Sato (after Kazuyoshi Kumakiri’s Sketches of Kaitan City, Mipo Oh’s The Light Shines Only There, and Nobuhiro Yamashita’s Over The Fence). It centres around what might be the most laid-back love triangle in recent screen history. In the port town of Hakodate, a nameless 20-something bookstore employee (listed as Boku, or “me” in the credits), works just enough to get by, sharing bunk beds in a small apartment with his slacker bud Shizuo (Shota Sometani). This harmony is ever so slightly disrupted after Boku starts hooking up with co-worker Sachiko (Shizuka Ishibashi), and the three start hanging out as a trio. As they bounce in and out of beds, clubs and karaoke bars, lines of friendship and romance begin to blur.
Named after a Beatles song allegedly about the band’s rivalry with the Rolling Stones, And Your Bird Can Sing avoids such macho histrionics, never pitting these two friends against each other. Screen love triangles often devolve into possessive fits of jealousy and someone getting hurt. Tears are shed, glasses are thrown, bags are packed, but not here. Miykae’s film depicts a refreshingly modern version of love, where mutual respect of autonomy is favoured over possessiveness. The boys don’t flex on each other, and Sachiko is never treated as someone who can be fought over and obtained. Aside from a subplot at the bookstore involving Boku’s boss, and a peek into Shizuo’s family life, not a lot happens, and that’s the beauty of it. Three strong lead performances anchor the film (Ishibashi is especially good), and a soundtrack by DJ/producer Hi’Spec (featured in a cameo in an extended club scene) has a disorienting, almost druggy texture, lining up perfectly with the gentle, blissfully unhurried pace.
Acid: Fri, Feb 8, 22:00, Zoo Palast 2 | Wed, Feb 13, 20:00, Cinemaxx 7 | Thu, Feb 14, 20:15, CineStar 3 | Sat, Feb 16, 17:00, CineStar 3 | Sun, Feb 17, 22:30, Cubix 7 | And Your Bird Can Sing: Fri, Feb 8, 21:15, CineStar 8 | Sat, Feb 9, 20:00, Cubix 9 | Mon, Feb 11, 21:30, Delphi | Sat, Feb 16, 19:30, Colosseum 1