Greek midwife's psychological spiral fails to coalesce

With a title like "The Killer," it's no surprise that Greece is in the running for the International Film Oscar. The third installment, adapted from Alexandros Papadiamantis's acclaimed novella, follows an aging midwife as she battles the ever-worsening patriarchal society she helps. psychological breakdown. Although director Eva Nathena and screenwriter Katerina Bei attempt to portray their protagonist's state of mind, they often get lost in the confusion of blending cold reality with feverish flashbacks and fantasies. in the way.

Marked by a pervasive sense of isolation, "The Killer" begins with a group of unidentified girls dancing in a circle, singing a song that wishes there were only boys among them. After a quote from the Greek poet Odysseas Elytis about the past inevitably manifesting itself in the present, Karyofyllia Karabeti, the film's recurring figure, is introduced: gliding briskly through the rocky terrain. Walk to help a woman in pain. childbirth. To the chagrin of the room, the baby was a girl, the latest in a seemingly unbroken line of female births on the Aegean island of Skiathos.

Although the story of "The Murderer" takes place in the early 20th century, its appearance and character emotions seem to belong to an earlier period. Boys are almost completely invisible in the film, but they are valued more highly than ordinary society, while women often try to use herbs and other remedies developed by Hadura to ensure they will have a son. None of these efforts seem to achieve anything, and the expected necessary pauses and subsequent depressive or angry reactions inform much of the character dynamics at play here.

In the case of Hadullah, she had three daughters and two sons. The latter have moved away from the village and are no longer present, while the former remain to help their mothers, the eldest of whom is a veritable spinster. In addition to the exhausting daily disappointments, Hadura must also deal with her own troubles stemming from dreams about her late mother (Maria Protopapa).

Her mother first appears as a silent observer with a piercing gaze as Hadullah delivers bad news to her patients, but her mother soon becomes a recurring character. The ominous ancestor appears in the present as a hissing, mocking reminder of Hadullah's inability to improve the status of women in the village, while in flashbacks young Hadullah (Georgina Dalara) is ruthlessly treated The training is to follow in the footsteps of the mother and assume the responsibilities of the mother. The role of the town midwife. The clues build up until Hadullah reaches a breaking point and a series of increasingly unbelievable events ensues.

Given the blunt title, it might be easy to guess where Hadullah's ideas would eventually turn, but this progression is inhibited by the programmatic nature of Nasina's approach. There are many moments where she is lost in a dream or memory and then suddenly wakes up, often too clearly delineating the film's ostensible boundaries regarding its protagonist's delusions. The society around her is often reduced to obvious types—abusive husbands, blind priests, drunken sons-in-law—which in turn simplifies the chaos that Hadullah faces.

"Murder Girl" does make good use of two key assets. The first is Carabetti, who deftly shoulders the burden of portraying the physical and mental transformation of her character. She starts out wizened but still powerful, her stalwart figure oscillating between self-doubt and enthusiasm some of the stranger ones. The other is Skiathos itself, with its villages made of layered stone and built along ridges that stretch out into the mist, naturally giving it a sense of mystery that goes a long way toward sustaining the film's feel. atmosphere.

Although The Killer is a deliberately insular film, the similarities to other societies from other time periods are apparent before it ends. After the final image, Chiron appears, explaining the relevance of specific plot points and connecting them to history and ongoing crises. Sudden shifts in scale feel clunky at best, especially when a series of situations just seen in the film are presented in such extreme, broad strokes. While "Murder Girl" has its share of compelling moments, the rigidity of its approach proves to be a fatal flaw.