“Byagstvo” (“Escape”) is the third feature film by director Victor Bojinov. His first one, “Vazvishenie” (“Heights”) (2017), stirred the blood of the patriotically inclined viewers, and then calmed them down, careful not to trigger any national hang-ups. He tickled our sense of humour and our nostalgia with “Golata istina za grupa Zhiguli” (“The Naked Truth About the Zhiguli Band”) (2021). And now, Bojinov offers us the thriller “Escape” as the finale of this tempestuous trilogy that crossed the main grievances of the audience off its list. Rejoicing in the public approval of his last two movies, Bojinov opts for a psychological thriller—a rewarding genre, always in style, for his third. As he hands it to us, he gives it a typical Bulgarian zest.

We called the three Bojinov movies “tempestuous” because he introduces our fellow Bulgarian as a problem to the world and (mainly) to himself. The story of “Escape” is catapulted to the highest and most desolate Rhodope village, Chamla, where we’re introduced to two overpopulated, especially by the local criteria, communities. On one side, we have an assorted group of friends working on an EU-funded project. They live across from a rehabilitation centre for drug addicts, stuck in the wilderness, like a model for salvation. The centre is inhabited by people with risky lives and a few idealists with a sense of guilt. The two projects are set in an isolated part of the tourist-friendly mountain and will soon enter a conflict overflowing with hypocrisy. Eventually, brute force will have to turn things around. A person who thought they could switch from one community to the other without repercussions becomes the catalyst for the war between species above sea level. Both communities are far from ideal. They break rules and regulations, and it’s conflict that defines them with more detail and sense than their ideal, theoretical purposes. Their meeting becomes a psychological test for their members. One of the communities lures with horseback riding, mucking out in the stalls, and flatbread like the one they serve in eco-camps, while the other traps people with its strict organization and complicity in illegal actions. The leaders are reckless and impulsive, and the schemers are only uncovered through the chain of aggression. An effective provocation is needed as a catalyst.

The group of friends bursts into the mountain’s chambers with the purpose of enlivening the beautiful surroundings with art installations, liberal behaviour, and ecstatic living. The few chosen ones arrive naively and take up a bohemian lifestyle under painfully plain conditions—a house in ruins, covered with Rhodope blankets and pillows to create a makeshift coziness; a few devout domestic animals, meek like Tamagotchis; and simple food that is not nourishing. Putting the bucolic life aside, there’s also the marijuana greenhouse, as well as some environmentally friendly pleasures, such as an herb bath. A small horse brings water that’s then warmed by the fire. Mountain peaks soar therapeutically all around, folding like fans, while the fresh wind and healthy cold set the atmosphere—day and night. The Rhodope Mountains dictate the dress code, too—one person is wearing a sweater, another a T-shirt. As if a time machine mixes the rules and the props…

Who would come to such a desolate place, apart from a cinema crew? At first glance, no one would. We have a mixed gang—a French guy, an English-speaking guy, and Bulgarian fans of globalization. The possibility of failure is palpable since all the participants seem to be running away from something and neither has a strong belief system. Behind their pretences, we can see a toxic past, an oppressive present, and even illness and looming death. Maybe being close to nature, along with the organic feel of the basic human activities and needs, will be yet another illusion, and possibly love will get a chance to enter this Noah’s ark of people saving themselves on top of a mountain. Their slightly insincere happiness and the ecstasy of the simple way of life suggest a poorly planned defeat. And waiting for a miracle hardly guarantees it would be recognized, should it really happen. But it will happen—through an outside intervention.

The foreigner-filled community doesn’t seem to have a true leader. The founder of the cozy nest amidst the treetops, a former French legionary, is curt and filled with suppressed resentment for his life and for his female lover. She, on the other hand, is the real engine of the project and insists on people working since early morning and reprimands them for smoking weed. Alas, she’s too tolerant, which makes her authority mostly empty talk. To her, love is not the driving force it is for the other two couples. And yet, the multilingual group is likeable; not idealized, but a result of compromise, kinship, partnership, or friendship. A group charged with enough contradictions to be unable to last the duration of the project, which is ten years. That’s why a catalyst comes along, a mysterious newcomer who puts things in their places after all is ruined, burned, consummated, and sold. This will give some of the characters a chance to exhibit the qualities of true leaders and the rest of them a chance to quiet down, at least for a while.

In contrast to the mixed company, which resembles ex-hippies in a new act, we see the order in the nearby commune. There’s an apparent leader there, too—a father eaten up by the guilt of failing to protect his own daughter from drugs. There’s also a brutal, however eloquent, slogan-shouting dictator. In the rehab centre, everything’s compulsory: food’s scarce and is a form of punishment; work is a duty; the young drug addicts’ parents are an alibi for drastic measures. There’s a well-cultivated sense of guilt in every resident, which can be turned into unconditional obedience whenever a crime needs to be committed. The persuasion methods include violence in such a curious post-socialist manner that it seems acceptable to the outcasts there. The rehabilitation centre will also suffer a collapse in its intention and existence. Living in tune with nature, serving a decent and well-subsidized cause, expecting clemency and forgiveness from above—all these things also take blows. The most self-contained heroine turns out to be one of the most interesting characters in the movie and acts most nobly by agreeing to help even after she’d been misled.

In its beginning, the movie is almost lethargic, as if built to be contemplative, but gradually picks up speed, bursting into strenuous conflicts and general cul-de-sacs. For a thriller, a gory genre full of normalized, pointless violence, the movie ends rather gently. The main characters are portrayed discreetly, which tells the viewers just enough, neither underestimating nor overestimating them. The exception to this approach is the protagonist, who tells the story of his childhood with unnecessary detail.

“Escape” is a rarely meaningful production, especially considering the previous Bulgarian attempts at the thriller genre. The Rhodope scenery doesn’t make things too local; on the contrary, it elevates them and makes them cosmopolitan. The shared insecurities of our nation rise from all around—both from the “bad guys,” and the “good ones.” Bojinov’s strongest movie so far would probably not get an Academy Award, but it is a pity that the team pulled it out of the race for eternal glory.

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на Националния фонд „Култура”.