5 Films That Will Help You Better Understand Estonia

In November 1988, Estonia became the first of all Soviet republics to adopt the Declaration of State Sovereignty, thereby initiating the collapse of the red-bannered empire that seemed invincible and eternal at the time. As they say in this small country that combines the best traits of Eastern Europe and Scandinavia: "Kes kahju kardab, see õnne ei leia," which translates to "He who is afraid of damage will not find happiness." Besides a resilient national character, ancient castles and fortresses, Old Thomas (Vana Toomas), and the liqueur "Old Tallinn" ("Vana Tallinn"), Estonians have had their own cinema since 1912.

For Soviet cinema, the Baltic countries, including Estonia, served as a backdrop for shooting science fiction, historical films, and "foreign" movies, i.e., films whose action took place in capitalist countries. There were many reasons for this - European architecture, local actors with "foreign" appearances, and the stylistic choices of Estonian directors, which, despite the prevailing socialist realism in the "prison of nations," significantly stood out from the cohort of films about the daily lives of Soviet citizens.

The first Estonian film screenings took place in Revel and Jurjevi in 1896. The Lumière Brothers' equipment appeared in 1897, and in 1912, Tartu photographer Johannes Pääsuke opened the first film studio in Jurjevi (Estonia Film Tartus) and shot the first documentary film, edited from newsreels about the visit of the Swedish King Gustav V to Revel. The next film, shot in 1914 by Johannes Pääsuke, was titled "Hunting for Bears in Pärnumaa" ("Karujaht Pärnumaal") and was a satirical comedy about German barons. 

"The Children of the Sun" ("Päikese lapsed"), director Theodor Luts, 1932

This film is often mentioned today as the first Estonian sound film. In principle, this is true, but only when it comes to feature films because the short film "Kuldämblik" ("Golden Spider") by Konstantin Märska was shown with sound in 1930. Despite this caveat, "Päikese lapsed" can be called unique and curious simultaneously.

Firstly, it was considered lost for a long time and was surrounded by various legends. Secondly, it featured the cream of the Estonian bohemia of the 1930s: the star of the stage Ants Eskola, dancer Elfriede Marie Lepp-Strobel, who was the wife of the famous jazz musician Kurt Strobel, choreographer Rahel Olbrei, and "Miss Estonia-1932" Nadežda Peedi-Hoffmann, who could be called the "longest-reigning" beauty queen (due to the intrigues of various women's societies and associations claiming that beauty contests demean a woman's dignity, the next contest was postponed until the outbreak of World War II, and Estonia fell under the occupation of the Soviet Union.

So, the beauty queen's crown was officially placed on the head of the new winner only in 1988). Despite such a lineup of "stars," the film completely failed at the box office due to its utterly helpless melodramatic script. Throughout the film, a young artist struggles between a dancer and a society lioness, trying to understand where true love is and where it's just the call of the flesh.

After the obvious failure of "Päikese lapsed," the Estonian film industry temporarily abandoned the production of feature films, and when it gathered courage again, it was too late - the Soviet occupation began. However, today's audience watches "Päikese lapsed" with completely different eyes - for them, it's a kind of "mold of an era" when girls conveyed their emotions through dances à la Isadora Duncan, men in wide white trousers drove luxurious cabriolets, sparkling wine was poured into porcelain teacups for breakfast, and restaurant orchestras played jazz, foxtrots, and tangos.

"Naughty Curves" ("Vallatud kurvid"), directors Kaljo Kiisk, Juli Kun, 1959

This biker film was so successful in the box office that a remake titled "Dangerous Curves" ("Ohtlikud kurvid") was produced within two years, featuring the same production team but in color. Moreover, this remake became the first panoramic feature film in the USSR, as Soviet engineers finally "cracked" the American Cinerama panoramic system.

Certainly, "Vallatud kurvid" is not "The Wild One" with Marlon Brando, and the leather jackets proudly worn by Estonian motorcycle racers are not the legendary Schott "Perfecto Motorcycle Jacket." Yet, simultaneously, it is perhaps one of the most "Hollywood-esque" films made in Estonia. Considering the era when "Vallatud kurvid" was produced, it can be seen as one of the most escapist Estonian films.

The events unfold at the Pirita-Kose-Kloostrimetsa racetrack, where bikers train before the competition. The daring racer Vaike becomes enamored with two men simultaneously - Raivo, a multiple champion and famous "ladies' man," and Heino, who is just as skilled as Raivo on the track but is modest, doesn't smoke, and enjoys fishing. To finally make a choice between the two handsome men and gracefully exit this complex situation, Vaike asks her twin sister, Mare, to substitute for her on one of the dates.

However, unlike Vaike, Mare is married, practices ballet, and doesn't know how to ride a motorcycle. "Vallatud kurvid" can be considered a film that incorporates all the elements of American romantic comedies of the 1950s: a similar plot, direction, jokes, and characters. It's a carefree classic fairy tale without negative characters. However, by 1959, Hollywood (and the world at large) had long grown tired of such films (even "The Wild One" was made in 1953). Considering all the circumstances (only six years had passed since the death of Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin, the "Iron Curtain" that divided the cultural spaces of the East and the West), the Estonian production team simply had no opportunity to create something "innovative."

"Dead Mountaineer's Hotel" ("Hukkunud Alpinisti hotell"), director Grigori Kromanov, 1979

During the screening of this film on the big screens of the USSR 44 years ago, Soviet viewers, unaccustomed to horror, screamed in fear, and some of the children who watched "Dead Mountaineer's Hotel" would shudder for the rest of their lives when they saw mannequins. This film seemed absolutely "Western," meaning it had no signs of "Sovietness": it was shot at the Tallinnfilm studio with the participation of exclusively Estonian, Latvian, and Lithuanian actors with a "foreign" appearance. Costume design was handled by the "pro-European" fashion designer Vyacheslav Zaitsev, and the soundtrack composed by Sven Grünberg is still considered one of the highest achievements in European electronic music.

But the main thing is that, stylistically, this film was absolutely unlike standard Soviet science fiction. Thanks to excellent cinematography, while watching "Dead Mountaineer's Hotel," the audience was instantly enveloped in an atmosphere of almost mystical mystery, and the interiors of the small hotel, with the play of reflections in mirrors, transformed into a eerie labyrinth, reminiscent of American "noir" and Italian "giallo."

Director Grigori Kromanov was considered a "hitmaker" - his previous film, "The Last Relic" ("Viimne reliikvia"), shot in a "Robin Hood style," was a box office leader and periodically returned to the big screens to enthusiastic applause. "Dead Mountaineer's Hotel" became Kromanov's last and most famous film - in 1980, he even received the prestigious "Silver Asteroid" for this film at the International Festival of Fantastic Film in Trieste.

The film's plot is based on a constant change in genre "registers": Police Inspector Glebsky arrives at a small hotel, lost in the snowy mountains, in response to a call. Although the call turns out to be false, the hotel guests still begin to cast uncertain suspicions on the inspector. Strange notes are slipped into his pocket, and doppelgängers appear. After the murder of one of the guests, the inspector will regret ever coming to this godforsaken place because he will have to unravel a tangle involving terrorists, hired killers, aliens, androids, nightmares, and edelweiss wine. By the way, it was in this film that the Soviet audience first heard the word "zombie" and learned what it meant.

"Georgica," director Sulev Keedus, 1998

Whether it's an existential drama, a mystery, or a parable, defining the genre of "Georgica" is not straightforward. The film is set in the 1960s on a deserted island turned into a military aviation polygon by Soviet forces.

Living alone on the island is an enigmatic old man who translates Virgil (hence the film's title) from Latin to Swahili, prepares silos for cattle, and keeps bees in a ruined church. Whenever the Soviet aviation conducts training bombing on the island, the old man reports the bomb hits to the military squares via telephone, documenting the results of the exercises.

One day, a mute boy is brought to this "Robinson," whom the mainlanders consider a sage and healer. This young "Friday" became mute after attacking his own mother, forced to work as a prostitute in mobile military brothels, and eventually, she broke down from such humiliation. The old man is happy to have the company of the child – now, he has someone to share memories of studying in Leipzig and life in Africa, where he was sent as a missionary before World War II. However, during another aerial raid, the bombs do not hit where they should...

While such islands abandoned by humans and turned into military polygons did exist in Estonia, watching the film gives the impression that the island where the old man and the boy live in an airplane hangar does not belong to the real world. It's either purgatory, where the tolling of a church bell is occasionally heard, or a "border space" between life and death (in which case, the old man's white horse is a reference to the riders of the Apocalypse from the 6th chapter of the Book of Revelation). The unreality of what is happening is further emphasized by constant transitions from sepia to color, separating the memories of the old man and the boy from their "Robinsonade."

"November," director Rainer Sarnet, 2017

Based on the book by popular Estonian writer Andrus Kivirähk, Rainer Sarnet created a mesmerizing film, showered with awards at the Fantasporto film festival. However, labeling "November" as a mere adaptation would be unfair to the director, who crafted a true masterpiece that is entirely self-sufficient in both form and content.

Some critics categorize "November" as folk horror, although squeezing this film somewhere between Robin Hardy's "The Wicker Man" and Ari Aster's "Midsommar" is not the most grateful task. Rather, it is more appropriate to talk about a peculiar "magical realism" that reinterprets Baltic myths and legends, intertwining paganism with Christianity.

At the end of the 19th century in a poor Estonian village (where the villagers are so poor that they eat tree bark, but everyone has a handful of gold coins hidden somewhere), a charming girl, Lina, who can transform into a wolf, falls in love with the simple-minded boy, Hans. In turn, he falls in love with a young baroness suffering from lunacy. To complicate matters, the Plague arrives in the village (first in the form of a maiden, then a white goat, and later a black pig). The dead return to the world of the living on the night before All Saints' Day to steam in the sauna. Villagers periodically summon the Devil from the woods to exchange their immortal souls for the ability to animate a kratt (a primitive robot assembled from bones, sticks, and agricultural tools, which becomes useless).

Understandably, in this fairy-tale context, any love triangle is doomed to a tragic conclusion from the start. However, despite a certain archetypal nature of the plot, all the characters in this hermetic, muddy little world do not look like cardboard dolls. Each one of them, whether a wretched peasant or a delicate pious baroness, is meticulously detailed, down to the smallest nuances and gestures. This spectacularly picturesque form of collective mythological existence at the edge of the forest, despite all its life tragedy, implies that not only is the transition from the light of life to the darkness of the grave possible but also the reverse, from non-existence to existence, from darkness to light.

If you want to learn more about the cinema of other Eastern European countries, read the previous film reviews from The Gaze.