School for Hope, the documentary debut of Yana Alexieva, presents itself as a “film with a cause”, whose main goal is to promote the work of the Rusalya Association. Founded more than ten years ago by actors Animari Dimitrova and Zlatko Zlatkov, this NGO is responsible for establishing and preserving the Dimitar Ekimov School of Arts and Crafts for underprivileged children. Named after a distinguished philanthropist and entrepreneur from Gabrovo, this remarkable school provides its marginalized students with an education that is free, modern and on the whole well adapted to their individual needs. By all appearances, project Rusalya (named after the village near Veliko Tarnovo where the school is based) is entirely inspired by the Enlightenment ideal at the heart of Bulgaria’s old National Revival culture—the belief that “knowledge is like a sun” which illuminates the souls and minds of people, thus freeing them from the “profound darkness” of ignorance. Unfortunately, it seems that in Bulgaria today it’s becoming increasingly difficult to secure funding for the cultivation of such lofty, humanistic values, which is why this invaluable educational institution is forced to depend ever more heavily on the goodwill and support of private-sector donors.

This is where Alexieva and her producer from Mono Collective, Simeon Tsonchev, come into the picture. Already in 2017 they decide to start working on a film devoted to Animari and Zlatko’s ambitious endeavour, in order to get more people acquainted with “the school for hope”, its mission statement and its many problems and wants. But even though the project’s intended effect is wholly practical (securing funding for project Rusalya), the film also possesses admirable aesthetic qualities, far beyond those of any ordinary commercial product made entirely with promotional or charitable purposes in mind. Much of the credit here probably belongs to the cinematographer, Krasimir Andonov, whose camera creatively and attentively manages to capture a wealth of very subtle, strikingly expressive details that distill the emotional texture, the atmosphere and the rhythm of everyday life in the school. These include images of swing sets, drenched in rain, or a sunset seen through the mesh of a soccer net—scenes bereft of function, that give the film as a whole a palpable sense of depth. 

The gravity of the subject matter would probably have compelled a less confident (or more mediocre) team to seek out more expedient, journalistic means of expression in order to quickly and effectively get its message across to the audience, which is, as a rule, easily distracted. This is precisely why the more contemplative approach adopted by School for Hope is so striking. It not only allows viewers to immerse themselves in the picturesque atmosphere of village life, but also gives them the time and space to take a beat and get to know the vivid characters we meet on screen—the charming children at the school and their devoted teachers and mentors. All of this, of course, serves the film’s charitable aims, as it gives us a comprehensive picture of life at the educational center, which allows us to appreciate firsthand the value of everything Animari and Zlatko do.

On the other hand, since the film offers a bird’s-eye view of all the joys, difficulties, and lessons that everyone at the school shares, at the end of the day there’s little room left for the children’s individual stories. It’s entirely possible, however, that Alexieva consciously (and in a certain sense conceptually) chose not to make the students’ personal lives the center of attention. Judging by some unsettling moments one may reasonably conclude that the stories of many of the marginalised children in the film are, to say the least, heartbreaking. There is, for example, a scene in which a young girl boasts to Zlatko, as he’s struggling to crack open a coconut, that she once got so drunk at home that she wound up crawling across the floor in front of her indifferent parents. That’s why Alexieva deserves some credit for approaching her subject matter ethically, resisting the temptation to capitalize on the painful lives of the school’s students in order to create a stronger sense of urgency. As a result, although some scenes make it absolutely clear that these children are in real, urgent need of care, warmth, and financial help, what comes to the fore is not their suffering, but their gentle dignity—their capacity to grow and enjoy life, surrounded by people who truly love them.

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с финансовата подкрепа
на Националния фонд „Култура”.