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Robinsons of Mantsinsaari
Director: Victor Asliuk, Belarus, 2008, 56 minutes
Robinsons of Mantsinsaari tells the story of two men, the only people now living on a Russian-controlled island on Lake Ladoga. Although they are the sole inhabitants on the island of Mantsinsaari, neither speaks to the other. One of the men is of Belarusian origin, the other of Finnish origin. Between them, there is a long history.
With stunning cinematography and a dose of humour, the film observes the last two human residents of the island, lingering on nature, the daily routines of the men, and the activities of their animals. In this beautiful natural environment, their irreplaceable animals fulfill the function of friends and family for the men. Although the men don’t socialize together, the elder man’s dog runs between both homes carrying on his own relationships. Occasionally, the younger of the two men climbs up a hill during the evening to see if the light is still burning at his neighbour’s house.
Both residents have lived on the island for over twenty years, without speaking to each other for much of that time. Matti and Kluynya are both faithful citizens of their home. As long as they live, their small state will be called ‘the inhabited island Mantsinsaari.’ This beautifully crafted film provides us with the great assurance that the art of documentary filmmaking is alive and well.
Director and scriptwriter Victor Asliuk graduated from Belarusian State University and Belarusian Academy of Arts. He has directed more than 20 documentaries and has been a member of European Film Academy since 2003.
PRECEDED BY
Ma’rib – Traces of Stones
Rainer Komers, Germany, 2008, 30 minutes
Ma’rib is the second installation in a tetralogy that examines destroyed cities, with each film connected to one of the four elements. Ma’rib is ‘earth’ in the form of sand, soil, and stone. The city is 150 kilometres east of Yemen’s capital, where the mountains meet the Rhub al-Khali desert. Four thousand diesel pumps irrigate the oasis and a new power station will supply mass electricity. Without dialogue or narration, the film’s stark offering of habits, rhythms, and gestures of a rugged country zigzags between sociological observation and sudden poetry.
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