AFI Fest Review: The Tribe

I rarely use the word "singular" to describe a movie, and even so, I probably use it too much.  There are very few truly unique movies out there; even the most audacious normally echo other works, or are beholden to late masters.  It's inevitable, really.  There's the idea that there are only a dozen or so different plots, for one thing.  Then there's the fact that we are so influenced by everything we take in, which necessarily means that any creator will likely mimic - perhaps unwittingly - that which he has seen and been shaped by.

The Tribe is a singular film.  Debut director Miroslav Slaboshpitsky has done an incredible thing, challenging the very notion of what a film can do, and the way it can relay information to an audience.  So often, we as viewers are catered to, every plot point clearly painted, every action having an obvious outcome, and symbolism wielded like a hammer used to crush the skulls of those who might not be able to wade through the ambiguity.  American audiences are used to having their hands held as we skip from beginning to middle to end.

Not so here.  The Tribe details the arrival of a new kid, Sergey (Grigory Fesenko) at a boarding school, where he is inititally bullied before being drawn into an intricate network of organized crime involving both faculty and staff.  The catch: it's a school for deaf students.  The entire film plays out in sign language, without voice-over or subtitles.  A title card warns of this at the beginning, a generous middle finger to audiences who aren't willing to surrender to a film where answers aren't easy.

It is a sometimes disorienting, and often challenging viewing experience.  But Slaboshpitsky knows what he's doing, and he has assembled a stunning cast of young actors to bring this story to life.  Technically, the film is as straightforward as possible: shots are always in the medium range, there are frequent long takes, and the scenes unfold in chronological order.  There is no score.  The film's simple technical grammar offsets the disorientation caused by the characters' language, which most viewers won't share.  We are robbed of hearing the characters speak, so we are given perfect seats to watch their hands, their bodies, their faces (though never in close-up, because that wouldn't be enough to let these characters really express themselves).

We are put in a position that is often inhabited by the characters of this world.  A deaf person might be lost in the noisy conversation of a crowded room, but here, we are at a loss, wishing we could know what they are saying, feeling somehow at a disadvantage.  It's a fascinating, unsettling position to be in, thrilling in its novelty but daunting when considered as a potential lifetime situation.

The Tribe is among the more brutal movies in recent memory, as these kids engage in theft, prostitution, and frequent violence.  It's disturbing enough to see kids behaving badly, but even more so when the scenes are robbed of their "natural" noise.  Fights, sexual assault, and arguments are even more distressing without the expected cries and moans.  The soft thuds of punches and creaking of bedsprings can't wake the others, or catch the attention of an adult; it's a dangerous place to be.  The absence of responsible adults - the few who feature prominently are in on the criminal activity - make The Tribe something like a deaf Ukrainian boarding school take on Lord of the Flies.  Even singular works beg comparison.

As challenging and daring as The Tribe is, I don't get the feeling that Slaboshpitsky made the film to slap audiences in the face, or to force them to have to keep up.  Instead, he recognized the power of his actors, and the gravity of the situations his characters find themselves in.  He knew that, on their shoulders, in their hands and bodies, this story would be clearly told.  There's no need for the crutch of subtitles; if you're watching, you know what's going on.  Even without voices, these characters are defined, and fascinating.  We know them, though we don't even know their names (I had to look up Sergey's).  The Tribe is a powerful spin on the silent movie, one that will surely elicit audible reactions from its audience.