Alexandros Avranas
Miss Violence

THE REVIEW

Miss Violence

Greece

2011

Director: Alexandros Avranas

It's a bit like seeing Greek tragedy come back into the spotlight by tackling current social issues that are quite scandalous > advertising > notoriety. At least on the surface. The social diseases that are inevitably taking hold everywhere were destined to fill cinemas just as, what the hell do I know, the Second World War did.

Specifically, Miss Violence harbors the fruits of the tree of pessimism that is both fascinating and somewhat trendy in the gardens of the directors of the "New Greek Cinema" (?? Please..). But these are bullshit that everyone is capable of spitting out.

The theme of this Miss Violence: a family composed of a master and a wife terribly guilty of not rebelling, a brood of victims (some more, some less aware) who suffer.

The film opens with a suicide, the youngest daughter has chosen the day of her eleventh birthday to throw herself down, literally. The viewer's attention, after this beginning, shifts to the portrayal of (one by one) all the figures of this extended family living under the same roof. 

The male educates, punishes, takes away and gives. Nothing different from what an ordinary parent does, the difference is the assumption of ownership, and the deprivation of the "why," which turns education into violence, obligation, deprivation, and vices. Enough to decide what to do with their children's bodies, as well as their identity.

The female is complicit, silent, submissive. 

The emblem of the result is Eleni, the eldest daughter who still lives with her parents, her teenage sister, and her two children, completely numb and deprived of all rights, an empty body, she practically seems like a photograph. She is not even allowed to raise her children, it is the task of the grandfather-father-master, confirming that her life is there only to observe, and a life like that is perhaps not worth living, probably this is what the youngest of the pack understood, the actress of the insane gesture. The story is logically constructed to present an extreme, but as often happens with extremes, it is not too far from some realities. 

The director wraps a gift for the audience: unfortunately, it is not the viewer who unwraps the package, but one has to sit and watch the director do it, not too slowly either, which certainly does not affect the rawness of the message, but probably takes away some of the film's charm, which nevertheless remains an admirable drama, given its modest duration (about ninety minutes). Especially noteworthy is the long sequence shot indoors, during the visit to the family by social workers. Equally commendable is the portrayal of violence, which remains extremely real and materializes through sequences that are striking and disturbing, without crossing into the sordid. 

I suggest this film simply because no one else had done so yet, and because (damn, I managed to hold myself back until now) in many ways it's a carbon copy of a film I previously reviewed. My sparse analysis, my middle-ground judgment, are too tainted by this juxtaposition, which I do not disclose. Why? Just because. The Raz Degan way.

Worthy performances and, as always, more enjoyable in the original language, although the film is hard to find. I recommend it, and I am sure it will not leave you indifferent.