Following its world premiere at the Tribeca International Narrative Competition, Slovenian director and writer Sonja Prosinc is submitting her third feature, the social satire Family Therapy , to compete in Sarajevo. The director’s latest film offers an absurd twist on the premise of Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Teorima , in which the arrival of a handsome young stranger disrupts the dynamics of an unpleasant community, The New Rich A Slovenian family. While the film is mostly enjoyable, Prossink allows the narrative to spiral out of control, veering off into a series of naturalistic endings. As with the director's previous films, The Tree and History of Love, which were shot by the talented Mitja Lišin (“Little Body”), the gorgeous cinematography, strong acting and stunning production design make up for the script's flaws.
The startling opening sequence, which shows a smoking car on the side of the road and a family of three trying to flee for safety, is a kind of deception, with the family portrayed playing a secondary role in the film. Instead, the title family – the Kraljs (which means kings, of course) – speed past the stricken man in a luxury car without stopping to help him.
The Kralj family's strange, unsympathetic behavior is causing discomfort for 25-year-old French newcomer Julien (Aljocha Schneider), who has just arrived for an extended visit. He is the son of the family patriarch Alex (Marko Mandić) from a previous relationship. Father and son clearly don't know much about each other, and the Kralj women, the artist-gallery owner wife Olivia (Katarina Stejnar) and the unhappy daughter Agatha (Milla Bizjak), prove to be less welcoming.
The Kralj House, where most of the film takes place, is stunning. It's a beautiful concrete and glass house, set on the edge of a forest, decorated in a minimalist, modern style, with smart home technology designed to keep the rest of the world out of the house while still allowing them to discreetly observe the nearby nature.
Julian's mere presence disrupts the family's rigidly ordered, isolated existence. His compassion and kindness create real and metaphorical divisions in their lives, but in Prossink's unbalanced screenplay these divisions don't exactly lead to major revelations.
As in the opening moments, the film boasts an overabundance of small incidents that initially seem like they might move the plot in an interesting direction but ultimately prove to be mere distractions. This is especially true of the brief scenes involving the sexual tension that Julian’s presence seems to arouse in both mother and daughter. By contrast, an extended sequence featuring a stilted art party in which Serbian Ana Duric sings Konstructa, an avant-garde performance takes place, and Aleks humiliates himself quickly makes its point but drags on for far too long.
Prossink's excellent cast is committed, though in some cases they don't have much to work with. Mandic brings a manic twinkle in his eye as a writer with an unexpected obsession with outer space, while Stejnar's haughty ice queen melts with concern for her frail daughter (who is her own in real life). Deus Ex Machina In the story, French-Canadian actor Schneider is the least defined, but he makes Julien a decent human being willing to accept his role in this flawed family.
In a film where the atmosphere trumps the plot, mention must be made of the magnificent production design by Tatiana Šanić Stanković, the costumes by Gilda Venturini and Dubravka Skvrci, and, especially, the stunning soundtrack by the Slovenian musical duo Primoš Hladnik and Boris Benko, who perform and record under the band name Silence.
