Crítica: Another Day
por Savina Petkova
- El albanés Eneos Çarka firma un potente y sutil documental que supone la culminación de años siguiendo a los artistas callejeros de su país en el norte de Italia

Este artículo está disponible en inglés.
Albanian-born, US-based director Eneos Çarka has a knack for capturing the invisible currents flowing between people and through time. His feature debut, Another Day, is the culmination of years spent following a pair of Albanian street artists across Northern Italy, with their mime and acrobatics act, and exploring the brothership they share. Last year, Çarka’s latest short, The Silence of the Banana Trees, played at IDFA, and now, Another Day has had its world premiere in its Luminous strand.
Besi and Rafael are performers who introduce themselves as the “brothers Ping and Pong” to the audience and crowds. “We’re brothers in life,” Rafael says when asked about their fraternity. Their “uniform” is made up of red trousers, stripey shirts and white gloves, a classic look that graces the screen in the film’s opening. We see acrobalancing, break dancing and affectionate interactions with the audience, who seem to love them. A round of applause, posing for photos with families, and sometimes generous tipping all makes for a good day.
There’s no need for any context or backstory. Another Day initiates the viewer into something as ordinary as it is sacrosanct: the ties that bind. The intricacies of their street performances, the planning and the work itself are what we first encounter, constituting the film’s top layer. But alongside and behind the practicalities, there exists another full-bodied world, reminding us of its presence in glimpses of the human sublime. What the film deserves the highest praise for is containing that sense of discovery throughout its running time, and doing so in an organic, unobtrusive way.
First, we meet Besi and his coach during one of their outdoor training sessions in Shkodër, during summer 2019. It is through the coach’s encouraging words that we get to know Besi better, along with his resilience and his passion. Even if they speak candidly about the osteogenesis-related condition that Besi has, the film is conscious enough of his disability without ever making a big deal out of it. Nor does it slide into a simplistic, motivational story; Besi is an inspiration, but he is also human. There’s underlying humanism and affection in each shot and cut, making Another Day a particularly poetic mix of realism and paean; an ode to humans, their strengths and their shortcomings.
In Tirana, around the same time, Rafael is auditioning for a part, already as an acting graduate. Starting from 2019 (the last summer of togetherness), we move backwards and jump between years and countries, to stitch together a portrait of the pair’s subtly shifting dynamics. While each of them gets his own introduction (or conclusion, chronologically speaking), there’s something slightly saddening about the absence of the other in the frame. Already, at the film’s beginning, we intuit that a separation might be on the cards. Çarka has a masterful eye but conceals it under some restrained aesthetics. He shot, edited (in tandem with his producer, Joni Shanaj) and directed the film, and still, the movie is theirs, Besi and Rafael’s.
Another Day is much more than a film about drifting and dissolution. In a way, the gentleness with which it portrays years of friendship and professional partnership testifies to how impossible it is for people to truly part. Not in a painful, scarring way, but as two people who have, over time, left an imprint on one another. All of this emotion is an undercurrent in the film; it’s never addressed or hinted at, even through the film form. On the contrary, the documentary is open-ended; it breathes in and out, allowing its protagonists the space they need, even when they can’t give it to each other. Cinema cannot heal all wounds, but by being present when the rift is getting larger, it can be soothing and serve as an antidote to loneliness.
Another Day is an Albanian production staged by SCRB & NKNB.
(Traducción del inglés)
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