I had been meaning to watch a Hungarian film for a while, but in truth, this one perfectly captured the Central European atmosphere. In Hungarian, we usually refer to the first year of mourning as "gyászév" with less emphasis on widowhood itself. Because of this, the title misled me somewhat-I expected a story of personal growth. But there is nothing Americanized about this film. There's none of that notion that true greatness lies in not just surviving but thriving even on thin ice, in constantly and compulsively turning toward even the faintest ray of sunshine like a sunflower, no matter the circumstances. Instead, it presents an unexpected death and the confrontation with it-not through grand words, but through the simple actions of everyday life.
From the natural landscape of the Carpathian Basin, we also get a glimpse of notaries making empty promises while disregarding everyone, bureaucrats coldly reciting rulebooks with utter indifference, and even postal workers who use their tiny bit of power to make others miserable. Within the family, there's a father who is utterly dismissive and always making cutting remarks, a seemingly kind but deeply toxic mother-in-law-and, of course, a few positive figures as well.
The great strength of this film lies in its authenticity. There is no grand story, but it succeeds remarkably in documenting the painful indifference of our everyday lives-the way we fail to show even the most basic respect for others, and how, as a result, it becomes that much harder to find respect for ourselves.
