Pernik, whose weathered folklore has been eclipsed by jokes about tough guys skirting the law, stands at the centre of this movie. Its characters are gifted with all kinds of flaws, but the one thing they’re absolved of is a sense of fear. According to this new documentary by director and cinematographer Nikolay Stefanov, Pernik can only hold so much—an angry, loud, and crabby football gang that has established new forms of organised power—without anyone ever noticing. While there are no longer miners in the rundown town, the local football club “Minyor Pernik,” minyor meaning miner in Bulgarian, is alive and a centre stage for all sorts of anxieties, suspense, illness, and love. The club has a centennial history touchingly celebrated by stoked ultras wearing football shirts in black and yellow, protecting their cause with all sorts of acts. Some of their shenanigans are pure hooliganism, but the film doesn’t judge its characters, which is its biggest merit. In one scene, the ultras rudely provoke the baffled clients of a roadhouse, and in another, they undergo cathartic experiences during the pandemic and the distressing water crisis in Pernik. They love and hate passionately but are never indifferent when it comes to their town and their favourite “Minyor.”

A hand-held camera observes repulsive scenes at the stadium, vulgar and offensive monologues, but also happy shared moments on the way to yet another game. The brutal “sense of justice” that guides the ultras’ lives hits us like a hammer from the very beginning of the movie. Bit by bit, cunningly yet methodically, Stefanov submerges us in deeper waters. The candid shots of the outrages and the sometimes tragicomical actions of the gang gradually make space for a couple of main characters. One of them, a wrestling coach, is a loud-voiced ringleader who wags his finger, hurls insults, and seems to ignore the camera for the most part. He doesn’t care much for it, and so the camera doesn’t care much for him either. That’s because the leader of the pack is simultaneously an analogue and an antipode of the other main character—Tsetso. Tsetso always holds a beer and a cigarette in his hand and blathers on incessantly and candidly. Initially, he offers trite jokes about family, the town, and the homeland, and poses before the camera like there’s no tomorrow. Gradually, he exhausts his supply of set phrases and starts using his own voice… and that’s how he wins our hearts. His honesty reveals the complexity of the football gangs, forming a stark contrast with their superficial media representation.

The football ultras are normally reduced to a faceless human mass; they’re not respected. Whenever they’re involved in an offensive situation, they spark an outrage, but there’s no real attempt at going deeper into their lives. That’s where the movie wants to make a difference. The ultras finally meet someone willing to tell their story and show the hidden side of their lives. The rough exterior gives way to emotional depth. We discover these are people who’ve fought alone against almost anything—drugs, petty crime, the traps of family life, poverty, and the lack of opportunities in a town that seems bankrupt after the fall of the Soviet socialist model in 1989. People who, against the odds, have found a way to live happily in their small community. Humour dominates a large portion of the scenes without compromising the characters’ integrity. Still, they’re not treated as heroes—as miners used to be. (In Variety magazine, the movie is promoted as a story of contemporary hooligans disillusioned by the lack of a real working-class future that was once promised to their fathers. And yet, “No Place For You in Our Town” shows a few children who haven’t been promised anything but who, even though they act as tough as the adults around them, are cared for and protected.)

There’s no tangible barrier between the author and the people in front of his camera—it’s clear he knows them quite well and has for a long time. The movie has been shot over several years and reflects the changes in both the characters and their surroundings. At some point we forget the indignation we had at the beginning of the story; we’re even somewhat enticed by how masculinity finds an outlet in life as a football fan. The biggest enemy isn’t fear but the opposing team or its supporters. (Tsetso shares that after his first beating, he realised he wasn’t made of glass, and things became easier for him.) We see that the entire community functions in its own world, with its own laws and code, and a sense of loyalty towards its heroes, even if they’re part of a team that is no longer taken seriously in Bulgarian football. And just as we succumb to the raw charm of this life that hides curious themes worth talking about, we sober up. The movie leads us by the nose according to its own design, and we partake, gladly.

We see archive photos from socialist times when the mining town was presented as a cradle of hope and a symbol of the working-class progress. Now, we see through the pompous promises of the past and how the lies of the press deceived people and gave them false hope for the future… Today’s heroes resemble outsiders—outcasts, decrepit people, albeit feisty and bold. Then the big talk subsides, and we see Tsetso as a single father who raises his son responsibly and lovingly and doesn’t want him to have the same life he had. He realises his lifestyle belongs to another era and isn’t good enough for his child. The grandfathers are hard-working miners viewed through a heroic lens, the fathers stand at the brink of the law and failure, and children imitate them (the way the son of the ringleader does) or sabotage them with their innocence. Even if it’s a men’s world, this world is not primitive; Tsetso feels that and even manages to put it into words. In the moments he hesitates before the camera, he lays out the essence. Men are different in the men’s world of “No Place For You In Our Town.” While one of them strips his soul, another just stands there, like a broken stadium seat after a game.

The movie’s great merit is the order of the captured moments. The sequence outlines the evolution of the different characters (which also include “the mother” of the gang and some secondary characters who stand out with their humour or in other ways). They surprise us, challenging our biases but also introducing new ones. “No Place For You In Our Town” is a confession that firmly portrays a vivid portrait of our present-day life with all the responsibility and empathy a sensitive and profound creator is capable of. The movie therapeutically alters our attitude towards the football crowds and the antics of the gangs, which turn out to be, at least in part, a façade. Finally, it celebrates cinema as a space for self-reflection but also brings viewers closer to emotions they haven’t felt before.

The movie is traveling around the A-list festivals for feature docs, and it’ll be available on HBO Max in the fall of 2022. This way, the unusual, bittersweet taste of our small, grubby, bankrupt town that’s nevertheless full of people who deserve a place in many towns in the world will reset its expiration date.

Материалът е изготвен
с финансовата подкрепа
на Националния фонд „Култура”.