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It's
hard to categorize the film "Goodbye, 20th
Century" out of the Republic of Macedonia. In the
literature created for its publicity it purports to be
science fiction. I'd disagree, reasoning that there are
guns and black clothing, yes, but no science to speak of.
It might make a legitimate claim at being fantasy, but
after all is viewed, it is merely a failed attempt at too
many things.
The film starts by making us watch a troupe of people
toting many weapons and their leather clothing through a
moonscape, apparently mountains in the Balkans. Some of
the camera work is interesting, low angles of the hikers
leaning into the enormous slag-heap. Then some kind of
Christian ceremony is held, the most menacing man in the
group praying. Suddenly Kuzman (Nikola Ristanovski),
clearly intended to be a Christ figure, gets himself into
further trouble by parading around with a little girl's
parasol. Later we discover his claim that he had sex with
a saint, and that the saint had taken revenge by causing
most of the children to die. Hence the scene atop the
rock-strewn hill wherein Kuzman is actually shot by his
fellow travelers. They rake him over good with the
sub-machine guns and large caliber pistols. The only
problem is he cannot even die to rid himself of the
apparent misery his life has become. He keeps twitching
or opening his eyes or raising a claw-like hand -
movements that invite only more fusillades of lead.
What began to concern me while I watched "Goodbye,
20th Century" was that this confusing opening
sequence was probably the closest the film would come to
having a plot. In the threadbare events involving Kuzman,
we see him half wrapped in a shroud in a mysterious
woman's hovel; he sits in a tub that appears to have
chunks of vapor-causing dry ice in the water. Soon the
woman dumps a bushel of hard, apple-like fruit into the
tub with him, and disrobes herself. Unembarrassed by her
tattooed body, she climbs into the tub and lets him have
sex with her. This is the most graphic scene in the film:
a resurrected corpse copulating in a claw-footed tub with
a woman who is silent and graffiti-covered.
But the violent scenes reach a higher peak of sickness. A
man dressed as Santa Claus (Lazar Ristovski) apparently
returns home to find a group of mourners in his living
room. We suppose they are mourning as there is a photo of
the deceased ( a soldier), and the furniture is draped in
white. In the next room there is a reappearing character,
a prophet who poses as a barber. (Earlier he taunts
Kuzman and receives a bloody lip for his trouble.) Oh, I
forgot to mention that the filmmakers (Aleksander
Popovski and Darko Mitrevski) have set this scene on the
last day of 1999, close to midnight. As the turn of the
millenium approaches, the characters gathered in the room
commence to engage in increasingly perverted behaviors.
One man's hand catches fire; he later uses the damaged
hand, seemingly without pain, to punch out the defrocked
Santa Claus. A woman lets Santa ride atop her shoulders,
her face buried in his crotch, as he attempts to rescue a
beret that one of two unruly children in the room has
tossed on the star topping the tree. Another woman,
dressed provocatively, cavorts around laughing and licks
the face of the man with the singed hand.
What all this adds up to is a random collection of
violent and lascivious acts, unleavened by any coherent
narrative links. Viewing it was like watching longish
clips from music videos, unrelated scenes showing the
basest of human behaviors. What is so objectionable about
the violent scenes is not just that they are graphic,
that they were designed to be enjoyed, but that they have
no discernible purpose or point. The entire film seems
based on an idea of imminent apocalypse, but we never see
the Armageddon that caused the aftermath of the beginning
scene, which is set in 2019. The filmmakers' attempt to
take risks with further time-hopping also fails. In a
grainy clip supposedly set at the turn of the last
century, we see a hastily explained example of incestuous
love, a brother proposing marriage to his sister.
Suddenly the brother is maneuvered to the side and shot.
(The cameraman is the barber, by the way.) What we have
witnessed, we are told, is the first sin of this century.
Aha, an attempt to suggest that the sins of the fathers
are visited upon the sons? Hogwash.
Thankfully, the film occupies just over an hour. It was a
pleasant surprise to see it end.
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