"You’ll get us all killed; stop breathing." At the age of 12, Hugo (Artem Kyryk) is a highly dangerous secret, of a kind that could get you shot at the hands of the Germans occupying the (now Ukrainian) town of Czernowitz in 1942. But at this deeply dark and desperate time of war and Jewish persecution, the child has three guardian angels to depend on: his mother who extracts him from the ghetto by way of the sewers, the young woman in whom she confides and who goes on to hide him in a cupboard, and Hugo’s own ability to take refuge in his imagination in order to combat isolation and fear, and to face the uncertainty of the future.

Released in French cinemas on 23 April by Ad Vitam, Mariana’s Room sees Emmanuel Finkiel once again tackling the subject of the Holocaust after Voyages (1999) and Memoir of War [+lee también:
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entrevista: Emmanuel Finkiel
ficha de la película] (2018). But this time, he moves closer to the epicentre of the tragedy by adopting the viewpoint of a direct witness, which is nonetheless rather fragmented, and which is expressed almost exclusively in one closed setting, carried by the innocence of a child who’s buffeted by the storm of colossal events which are beyond his comprehension and which leave his emotions in tatters. It’s a test of individual survival and a chiaroscuro (through the keyhole) exploration of a disastrous time, adapted from Aharon Appelfeld’s novel of the same name. It also pits Thanatos against Eros, given that the young protagonist finds refuge in a brothel or, to be precise, in the cubby hole of a sex worker’s bedroom.

"Everything that has happened is inscribed in the cells of my body." In keeping with this quote from the book, the film revolves around Hugo’s perceptions: what he glimpses through the cupboard doorway or sometimes from the bedroom window, what he hears from the daily comings and goings in the brothel, and his own immersions in family memories which tread the line between dream and nightmare. Crafted around the solid and affectionate relationship which he forges with the complex character of Mariana (the remarkable Mélanie Thierry), the story advances like ripples across a pond in four-dimensions: there’s the child and the cubby hole, Hugo and Mariana in the bedroom, the microcosm of the bordel (which soon seeps into their life) and the echoes of war outside which sometimes invite themselves indoors ("it’s different here, they’re only men, nothing more, nothing less"). The danger of being discovered constantly hangs over him, alongside the risk of his memories fading…

A captivating artistic feat which shuns naturalism and flirts simultaneously with the fairy tale and historical forms (the Germans, the Soviets), whilst placing full focus on emotional authenticity, Mariana’s Room is a highly singular work which takes a relatively perspicuous approach to explore the many different facets of a psyche struggling with subterraneous impulses (life, death, sex, the opposing forces of desire, filial and maternal bonds, anxiety over abandonment and amnesia, self-esteem, aspiring to freedom, survival instinct, etc.). This incredibly rich and symbolic ground is further enhanced by the use of contrasting light by the film’s highly talented director of photography Alexis Kavyrchine. The result is a feature film steeped in a strangeness which viewers on the same secret wavelength as the wonderfully original Emmanuel Finkiel will fully appreciate.

Mariana’s Room is produced by French firms Cinéfrance Studios and Curiosa Films in co-production with Arte France Cinéma, alongside Belgium’s Tarantula, RTBF, Voo, Be TV, Orange Belgium and Proximus, Hungary’s Proton Cinema, and Israel’s Metro Communication and Sunshine Films. World sales are entrusted to WestEnd Films.