In contrast to new school Bulgarian directors, trying to make movies about times they haven't lived in, there are the old school directors, trying to make movies about times they wish they haven't lived in.
There's always this slow-paced melancholic vibe, often represented in black and white, weird, piss-poor characters that the director tries to pursue the viewer are beings who don't deserve their misery, but often fails so. And so it happens here. The failure, I mean. Our "heroine" is one of those unpleasant, overacting stereotypical characters you can hardly associate with, let alone like. The story becomes predictable 10 minutes in and it's not an original one. Nor it is intriguing or touching. Frankly, I could hardly care about the faith of any of the screen characters. They are completely lifeless. Soulless. Same old, same old.
Ivailo Hristov was a good theatrical actor (back in the day, when every stage act wasn't a mixture of back pain and boredom) but is not really fit for cinema director. All of his movies are based on superficially pumped but painfully cliched topics of little significance and carry the same message, the same moral dilemmas, the same confrontations and the same attempts to crack some jokes in the middle of it all. But it is the fact this movie has been deliberately funded by the National Movie Fund, just so there's Bulgarian submission for 2021 Oscars, is what really pisses me off. Oh, you insolent, selfish mðthérfúçkers.
