Through her eyes and ears, in the film’s opening scene, we witness mom and dad engaged in a fight so big it’s dragged in Amálka’s grandmother (Veronika Zilková) and grandpa (Martin Finger). As Amálka’s mother tries to share her unhappiness with her parents—only to be rebuffed by her mother—Amálka looks on behind a frosted window pane, taking in the obvious ways even those who love her will ultimately ignore her. Eventually, Amálka’s mother and father leave for separate trips, leaving her in the care of her grandparents. They spend the day hiking in the woods, swimming in a pond, and building rock castles. Once again, not much is said by Amálka, but everything is heard.
Despite Amálka being around, her grandparents don’t mind critiquing her parents in front of her. At one point her grandmother says Amálka’s parents should’ve gotten a pet before they had a child. Bankó as Amálka is the movie. Her searching eyes, her mischievous grin, and her perceptible hurt provide nuanced emotional beats to a story that is mostly happening out of frame. This is one of those few child performances that doesn’t feel rehearsed to death or trite. It’s thoughtfully conceived, aching, and relatable—allowing the tender heart at the center of “Tiny Lights” to shine bright.
I am admittedly an easy mark for a story about a son parsing his relationship with his dead dad, but Pavel G Vesnakov’s “Windless” is an exceptional piece of filmmaking. It sees Kaloyan (his friends call him Koko) returning home to his tiny Bulgarian town after living for years in Spain. He is there to sell his deceased father’s former apartment. That story among the townspeople isn’t necessarily unique. The new mayor is buying up properties that’ll be torn down and redeveloped into a casino, a resort, and other high-end flats that he claims will revitalize the area. It sounds good to many people still living in what’s quickly becoming a ghost town due to the older population not only dying but their children, like Koko (Ognyan “FYRE” Pavlov), moving overseas or to Western Europe. Everywhere Koko turns he is reminded of his decision to leave, and of his father—who everyone says was a good, honorable man. For what it’s worth, he seems less well regarded by Koko.
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