"In early May 1980, I went to the Urania. It passed a film which I can not remember the title. Worse yet, I do not even remember, and can be not without reason-if it were a fiction film or a documentary. "By opening the doors to the Urania Kralievo, where the notion of time seems to have been abolished forever, and discarding the color blue velvet curtain that guards the entrance, Goran Petrovic invites his reader to take place alongside the thirty spectators attending a meeting at which the images projected onto a screen similar to a kaleidoscopic assembly in gestation.
After having narrated the history of this unusual and tormented hotel converted into a neighborhood theater, the goal of going cinéroman throughout a tracking shot, occasionally interrupted by inter-titles and reminiscences, dating back rows of seats from first to last, we reveal the composition and the memory of Noah's Ark heterogeneous, aboard which the absent of the community and also intermittent attendance the right to appear.
Leading the procession, we find Simonevitch, the opener who once performed his duties with great fervor, and who prefers to remain for some time in the halls of heaven to take care of this false parakeet named "democracy" and that stubbornly refuses to comment, despite messages of hope that his owner expects it.
surveillance and oppression, inflexible rules that have so far dictated the conduct of the majority of citizens of the country seem to be in this timeless place thank you to the vagaries of each.
Dominated by a sky dotted with constellations, which disintegrates, flaking, disintegrating, the heights of heaven on earth reveal, through its interstices, the hidden face of destiny within it. However, the main role lies with the reader who will meet through these snippets of stories in the gaps of the show offered to him.
Without lifting the veil on all the answers to questions that may cross the mind of his reader, the realization of this fragmented narrative resembles the feature film produced in the shade by the projectionist of the Urania, the well- called barkers, which cuts the coils overlap and the most influential and most diverse in the history of cinema, to bring them by common themes, then put them on stage in a ballet of images is absolutely incredible. Compiler rhapsodic masterfully blending the registers and the most contradictory effects, slapstick and tragedy, gravity and levity, authenticity and parody, the picturesque and the unspeakable, the narrator seems to be the accomplice of this fantasy film, which superimposes the points of view, beyond outrageous part of the documentary, which surpasses gleefully inventive fictions conventional.
"This time, there were only two Gagui and Dragan. To differentiate, say that the real first name was Dragan Gagui, while the nickname was Dragan Gagui. Gagui The first, a little older than the other, was illiterate, so was it the other that he always read what the captions said. "
Symbol of this interweaving of visions, this interchangeability of roles, this stimulation plot, Gagui, unable to read the subtitles and forced to follow the action runs through the narrative of his neighbor improvised Dragan, whose excesses fancy are not heard by the same ear Djordjévitch, the relentless high school teacher, for whom loyalty to the cinema is a sacrosanct rule. But we are in a paradise Kralievo artificial light-years of hostility that has prevailed in Serbia too long already, and positions the most opposite, behavior most eccentric can live here without any ulterior motive, without fear of reprisal, despite the threatening attitude of some sections that sows terror in the ranks.
Without downtime or special effects, the work of Goran Petrovic is literally conducted briskly and served by the French adaptation Gojko Lukic is probably not entirely foreign to its success given the allusions, house which will be discussed and most likely in the tavern.
- Check out allusions, Under a sky that falls off Goran Petrovic, cinéroman translated from Serbian by Gojko Lukic
- Evocation inspired by Anne-Francoise Kavauvea
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