No one can call Nietzche from being someone who spawned cheerful, optimistic blurbs about the condition of Man and His position in the Universe. So the moment a film decides to use one of his more depressing quotes -- "Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torment of man." -- it was clear to me that this was not going to be a walk in the park, but an express ride into hell with no way back up.
Macedonia produces this cinematic denouncement of a film and while it's too negative to be recommended, it's not a film anyone can ignore, or watch without feeling something wrenching at the stomach. The story of Marko, the little boy who lives in a country ravaged by civil unrest and the threat of a civil war just seconds away from happening, makes for an important voice even when the writers have given him none.
Marko is in the middle of the death of his family as a unit. His father is a deadbeat drunk who plays the lotto and hopes to win. His mother moves about in a haze and his sister gives him an excruciating amount of abuse for the hell of it. School is no better: there is Levi, the school thug who leads a gang, who has decided to focus his anger on him. And a teacher, originally from Bosnia (considered sacrilegious of in this country) who sees hope in Marko's sensitive writing and thinks his poetry might be the express way out of this hell, into the promise of Paris.
Paris indeed arrives, in a moment of hope, as a young mercenary of sorts -- a man who has lived a dangerous life. As Marko retreats from his daily dose of abuse into an abandoned train, he meets and befriends this man who comes to teach Marko two things: that life is hopeless and a constant battle, and to eat or be eaten (the movie's tagline). As the mental and physical violence around and directed at Marko escalates and even those who had hope in him decide to turn the other face as the ones in power (Levi and his police father) gain so much control that it seems all roads of escape end at their feet, Marko takes a drastic action into his own hands.
This kind of story is not new. I think the director is trying to, in telling a story of the loss of hope, an allegory about how innocence -- the future (Marko) -- can take so much before crying out and lashing at those who try to help but cannot (Marko's teacher, who didn't even assist him when Levi and his gang beat him up at his doorstep but fled the scene). I did wonder if the introduction of Paris and Marko's transformation from golden haired boy into a killing machine was a foreshadowing of what Marko would become -- since he walks away from it all right at the end while no one even flinches to see what took place. Paris, the soldier, has told Marko not to expect anything from anyone, that the only way of leaving a bad situation is leaving, not hoping, and this is exactly what Marko in the end is implied as doing.
MIRAGE is not an easy movie. At times I felt, as an American used to some form of catharsis that would in one way rescue the abused character and give him the victory over evil, that this systematic abuse was too much. It set me up for a false sense of "hope" once Marko starts taking subtle control over his life and even put down his sister in one funny scene. The only thing I can infer is that MIRAGE reflects the reality of many victims of society who have no one to help them, who have been pushed so far and then beyond the edge until they embrace the darkness of life. I kept getting slight references to a Mexican film by Luis Bunuel -- LOS OLVIDADOS in which innocence was also stolen and turned into something ugly. MIRAGE, however its pessimism (which is hard to take), has its beauty, even when it's one which should approached to with caution.
Macedonia produces this cinematic denouncement of a film and while it's too negative to be recommended, it's not a film anyone can ignore, or watch without feeling something wrenching at the stomach. The story of Marko, the little boy who lives in a country ravaged by civil unrest and the threat of a civil war just seconds away from happening, makes for an important voice even when the writers have given him none.
Marko is in the middle of the death of his family as a unit. His father is a deadbeat drunk who plays the lotto and hopes to win. His mother moves about in a haze and his sister gives him an excruciating amount of abuse for the hell of it. School is no better: there is Levi, the school thug who leads a gang, who has decided to focus his anger on him. And a teacher, originally from Bosnia (considered sacrilegious of in this country) who sees hope in Marko's sensitive writing and thinks his poetry might be the express way out of this hell, into the promise of Paris.
Paris indeed arrives, in a moment of hope, as a young mercenary of sorts -- a man who has lived a dangerous life. As Marko retreats from his daily dose of abuse into an abandoned train, he meets and befriends this man who comes to teach Marko two things: that life is hopeless and a constant battle, and to eat or be eaten (the movie's tagline). As the mental and physical violence around and directed at Marko escalates and even those who had hope in him decide to turn the other face as the ones in power (Levi and his police father) gain so much control that it seems all roads of escape end at their feet, Marko takes a drastic action into his own hands.
This kind of story is not new. I think the director is trying to, in telling a story of the loss of hope, an allegory about how innocence -- the future (Marko) -- can take so much before crying out and lashing at those who try to help but cannot (Marko's teacher, who didn't even assist him when Levi and his gang beat him up at his doorstep but fled the scene). I did wonder if the introduction of Paris and Marko's transformation from golden haired boy into a killing machine was a foreshadowing of what Marko would become -- since he walks away from it all right at the end while no one even flinches to see what took place. Paris, the soldier, has told Marko not to expect anything from anyone, that the only way of leaving a bad situation is leaving, not hoping, and this is exactly what Marko in the end is implied as doing.
MIRAGE is not an easy movie. At times I felt, as an American used to some form of catharsis that would in one way rescue the abused character and give him the victory over evil, that this systematic abuse was too much. It set me up for a false sense of "hope" once Marko starts taking subtle control over his life and even put down his sister in one funny scene. The only thing I can infer is that MIRAGE reflects the reality of many victims of society who have no one to help them, who have been pushed so far and then beyond the edge until they embrace the darkness of life. I kept getting slight references to a Mexican film by Luis Bunuel -- LOS OLVIDADOS in which innocence was also stolen and turned into something ugly. MIRAGE, however its pessimism (which is hard to take), has its beauty, even when it's one which should approached to with caution.