A Placid, Flaccid 'Lake'

A school teacher sits at the oars, rowing his boisterous class about the lake. A father berates his son for casting his net incorrectly. Two boats meet illicitly through the reeds, finding each other through bird calls and passing on covert information.

Kastoria’s inhabitants perceive no difference between land and sea. A fishing village nearly surrounded by water, it is the extraordinary setting for The Flowers of the Lake, Stamatis Tsa-rouchas’ patriotic tale set in turn of the century Greece. At this time, the Ottomans have just humiliated Greece in the war of 1897, but rebel guerrillas keep the hope of revolution simmering among the local populace. Unfortunately, this glorious setting and exciting period of revolutionary activity are ill-served by protagonists with no charisma and a story with no surprises.

The movie follows Christos, a young villager, as he clumsily attempts to fight for national freedom. He is the stereotypical too-eager, too-serious adolescent, totally devoid of humor or common sense, and a bore to watch.

Meanwhile, his hard-working father, Apostolis, constantly struggles to make ends meet. He is compliant even with the most unfair of Turkish laws and ordinances, for he loves his family and his wife, and wants to stay out of trouble. Christos is, of course, completely unable to understand or appreciate this attitude.

Although it unfolds with all the excitement of a weather forecast, Flowers does have a plot. To his immense joy, Christos discovers his very own valiant wounded soldier in hiding, a Greek Christian. The soldier is as serious-minded as the young man, and the two share many a deep, rousing talk about the motherland whenever Christos perilously comes over to treat his wounds and learn about the fight first hand. Surprisingly, even though the soldier orders Christos not to help him or go to war, both of which can be considered terrible betrayals, the boy remains steadfast in his resolve to help his new friend and serve his country.

Tension mounts as Apostolis hinders his son at every turn in his mission to do the patriotic thing for Greece. Christos turns to his grandfather for help instead, and the two carry messages from the soldier to the region’s bishop, who is deeply involved with the underground resistance to foreign rule. The mission ends tragically when Christos decides to take up the soldier’s fight, leaving his family and village behind, marching towards a certain, but glorious death.

If we are drawn into the movie at all, it is through the vignettes of village life that pepper Christos’ saga, distinguishing it somewhat from the blandness of being a total cliche. Filmed on location, the camera brilliantly captures the town’s breathtaking white splendor, from the chalky stones that line the streets, to its snow-colored houses. The villagers manage to furnish this white canvas with vibrant color. Tsarouchas portrays the early 19th century world with engaging detail. The hay shed near the school grounds is overwhelmed by children at recess, who toss hay at each other every which way. Men and women show off beautiful costumes and masks at a village festival, where they dance to folk music. Women queue up outside church to congratulate a mother on her just-baptised baby boy. The grandfather recounts the glory of Alexander the Great to his grandchildren, while huddled round a fire. But there are more sinister details as well. A money lender fondles Apostolis to determine what degree he will overcharge him. A Turkish merchant, terrified of Apostolis’s physical power, nevertheless professes to be unable to pay back his debt. Ottoman soldiers storm into town and viciously arrest a man for tax evasion.

Tsarouchas might have better have held the audience’s attention by relegating Christos to a supporting role, in favor of another unnamed young man, a newcomer in town who sets the village’s female hearts aflutter. He is by far the most compelling character in Flowers, his healthy good looks and confidant stance deeply contrasting with Christos’ sickly demeanor and frustrated ineptitude in front of Turkish rule. Granted, it is not such a difficult task, but, with only a few short scenes, he manages to steal the show. It is no surprise that Christos’ girlfriend, Areti, leaves him for the new comer, especially after he manically leaps from the church rafters to profess his love to her right there in the chapel. If Tsarouchas wanted his audience to understand something of Christos’ fervent love of his land and traditions, this is the material that he should have used in his plot, not as his background.

Flowers’ depiction of Kastoria and its inhabitants does no more than tantalize with the smallest whiff of their world. The stale stock characters are callously served in their place. We meet a young man who yearns for adventure, but he leaves us just as he is about to go follow it.

The Flower of the Lake

screening

Friday, September 28

6 pm at The Museum of Fine Arts

part of

The MFA’s Weekend of New Greek Cinema