13th European Dance Festival

A Critical Review by Nathalie Kyrou

I am not a professional dancer, but now I wish I was. This is the kind of effect that the European Dance Festival, held for the last two years at the Rialto Theatre in Limassol, Cyprus, has on its audience. It makes you want to leap and soar, inspiring that part of you where creativity and talent - and the innate need to move - are buried. 

Greece opened the festival with its courageous portrayal of man, a creature who is both dream and nightmare, in a piece called ‘Unknown Negative Activity’. The Rootless Root Company, a choreographic duo made up of a couple, introduced the first and only child to take part in this festival, a young girl who performed alongside them in a chilling and disturbing concept. This was not just dance, but a melange of performance, voice, live instrument, music, poetry, acting, and dramatic use of lighting and props. Starting off too slow for my liking, the piece thankfully built up momentum right up until its climactic ending, when the child shockingly climbs into the swaying womb of a hanging animal hide, after having spent most of the choreography having her body pushed and pulled, thrown and caught and manipulated into a multitude of shapes and poses by the other dancers. A brave act of trust between performers, the effect on me was a feeling of discomfort, disbelief and admiration, especially for the little girl whose unbelievably rubbery body and expressionless face made something extremely difficult seem easy beyond belief. 

Another favourite of mine in the festival this year was Spain. A unique evening of two works was presented by two choreographers with distinct yet contrasting styles. The Thoomas Noone Dance Company began the night with ‘Tort’: pure abstract dance investigating the space onstage and the organisation of its group of dancers. Forming, reforming and deforming the body, the dance was accompanied by a sparse, attenuated, melodic motif. The dancers - some of the best in the festival this year - used the weight of their bodies to flow and fall from one pose into another, gravity helping them to join and separate from each other. The result: a flowing, graceful choreography which avoided the usual clichés. The second piece, ‘Chaos Quartet’, featured four dancers each taking turns to perform, while changing their clothes throughout the piece. A highly respectable and entertaining performance from an already award-winning upcoming company exemplified the great talent and potential the field of contemporary dance has to offer.  

Another country that used the idea of putting on and removing clothes was Austria, who chose to make it more of a central theme. For the first time on stage during a dance event in Cyprus I was faced with completely naked bodies. The production ‘Secret sight: Dossier’ by Dans.Kias started with two women lying on the floor in nothing but their birthday suits. The choreography started and ended at snail’s pace, and unfortunately also dragged throughout, making the most interesting part the actual putting on and taking off of the clothes - which is not to say much. Dancers walking around, folding their clothes and carrying them from one part of the stage to the other, seemed to have no point other than to offer us much needed distraction from the monotonous moves and perplexing nudity. Only a duet towards the end offered us somewhat original choreography, but the movements looked rather clumsy, uncomfortable and unconvincing. When a third male and one of the female dancers removed their clothes completely from the waist below and danced a duet displaying their bare genitals, I was shocked enough to pay attention... if only for a few moments before I glanced back at my watch wondering how many more minutes of this piece I had left to endure. 

Nudity, a recurring theme in this festival, returned once more Italy’s performance. The scene opened with a smoke-filled a stage adorned with white lace curtains. In a hazy blur we are faced with six female figures wearing black dresses and veils covering their faces. As they stomp around the stage in their black heels, repeating prayers in unison and using only the sound and rhythm of their voices and footsteps to move to, I felt myself captured by what felt more like a Sicilian melodramatic movie than a contemporary dance. The drama heightened when the widow-like dancers suddenly dropped their dresses revealing themselves to be men...  completely naked with only the material from their dresses delicately concealing their private parts! Of course, if one had paid attention to the brochure, one would already know that the dancers were men, but the real shock here was not the revelation of their sex, but rather their sexy bodies, as they lined up in a row with their backsides staring at us in nothing but skin, teasing and posing and winking at us, while accompanied by music from ‘The Full Monty’. This comedic twist turned out to be a crowd pleaser, and although the dancers returned onto stage wearing new dresses – which this time they did not remove – the piece did not ever fully return to that initial level of humour which had made it stand out from the crowd at the start. Although the artistic direction was inspired, and the performance beautifully executed throughout the night by the Zappala Dance Company’s talented dancers, I did not however feel the choreography deserved the recurring curtain calls and standing ovation it received at the end. The work seemed too long and repetitive, and even though the amazingly versatile instrument, which provided the only source of sound in the piece (apart from the dancers’ voices), was the feature – and title - of the performance, the marranzano, as it is called, should have been drastically reduced in its use, as by the end of the night I wished I had brought earplugs with me. 

A country which I believe deserved the standing ovation and enthusiasm which Italy received was Finland – one of my favourites of the festival - whose piece ‘And the Line Begins to Blur’ stood out from all the other works with its style, design, and choreography. With talented performers who did much more than just dance, the Susanna Leinonen Company impressed me with its original music and unified whole. The choreography displayed growing tensions between the individual and community, the past and the future, and I was instantly drawn into the surreal world where beauty meets the dark outlook of life. In moments, the style of dancing reminded me of Michael Jackson’s Thriller video. The superb lighting design and costumes were worthy of a horror movie film, and they complemented each other and the choreography perfectly. The result: a unified and dramatic work of art which was over much too soon, leaving me wanting more. 

Germany’s and Ghana’s collaboration in DIN A 13 tanzcompany and Dance Factory Accra’s piece, ‘Patterns Beyond Traces’, is worth a mention. Although it is the only piece I didn’t manage to see this festival, its description in the brochure sounded interesting enough with its theme of disability, displacement, tradition and myth, and the efforts of people attempting to flee the stereotypes of race. With an interesting use of props, this work was performed by 5 dancers from Ghana and was one I wish I had seen. Croatia’s ‘Trisolistice’ by Cie Marmot was on the other hand a piece I wish I had missed. From the impression I got from the audience’s swift exit the moment the lights dimmed at the end of the performance, it was not only me who would have preferred that the work had been cut down to simply the presentation of the video part featuring the three individual female dancers, rather than having put us through their extremely dire live solo performances.  

Switzerland’s entry was far more interesting, even though it again seemed a little stretched, with its use of props such as rabbit hand-puppets, miniature soft toy horses, and long poles. ‘Black Swan’ featured four skilled dancers, from the company Ci Gilles Jobin, who demonstrated their mastery of the props in complex moves in this thematic piece of dance which integrated childhood games and disorientation. Cypriot entries by Amfidromo (‘Bla, bla, bla, Black out’), pelma.liaharaki (‘Giraffe’), and Aelion Dance Co. (‘Paul Kee’), took place in Nicosia at this festival proving why, with their respectively atmospheric, comedic, and beautiful aspects, they were the local favourites from their performances earlier in the year at the Contemporary Dance Platform in Limassol. The European Dance Festival ended with Portugal performing in Nicosia, in a piece by Paulo Ribeiro called ‘Maiorca’. Accompanied by a live pianist playing the popular and enchanting Preludes by Chopin, the six dancers balanced and climbed and jumped around their self-constructed playground of wooden boards, making it one of the more interesting pieces in terms of prop-use, although it felt slow and monotonous in parts. A piece that was clever, original, and playful, as well as nicely executed, unfortunately seemed disjointed from its classical score, and would have worked better in half the length. 

The (dance) Oscar of the festival in my opinion should go to France’s work ‘Douar’, performed by nine Algerian / French male dancers – including their choreographer Kader Attou . A collaboration between Attou and the National Choreographic Centre of La Rochelle and Cie Accororap, this work blew me away with its graceful blend of young Algerian hiphop, break-dancing, belly dancing, and exotic dancing (amongst some other styles of dancing that may not yet have definition e.g. puppet-dancing comes to mind). My jaw dropped open in astonishment and awe for most of the night - not just at the performers’ skills but also by the smooth and clever way Attou’s choreography and artistic direction masterfully merged different styles and music together into one entertaining and satisfying whole. By far the funnest of Limassol’s run of performances, this piece succeeded in drawing the audience in with the likeability of its characters and its original use of props. The acrobatics, theatrical aspect and soundtrack made me want to get up and join in all the fun. Squeals of delight and laughter from the audience emerged throughout the piece, as the dancers bodies flowed and contorted into unheard of shapes and forms. The highlight for me was surprisingly not the tricks such as the bouncing around upside down on one arm, or the back flips or the spinning break-dancing, or even the double jointed belly dancer (!), but simply the man who stood alone in the middle of the stage under a spotlight and moved his body in tiny speedy mechanical bursts which gave the effect of a human looking robot under strobe lighting – not unlike some sort of creature designed by special CGI effects! By the end of the night, each and every dancer had been allowed his 15 minutes of fame to show off his individual talents, yet the group showed that they could also perform well together in harmonious unison. They epitomized the essential trust that has to exist between dancers in such routines, persuading me by the end of the night that these men were not just partners in a dance company, but possibly friends, and maybe even family ( the kind of relatives I would want to visit me at celebrations!). The audience seemed to agree, as they raised their hands in the air with tremendous applause at the end of the night, which prompted an encore from the happy and grateful dancers. 

This festival may not be a competitive event – and rightly so, for all art is indeed a matter of taste – but if it were one, although there were definitely some stars, and some disappointments, I would put my hands together again for Finland, Greece and Spain, but France would ultimately win... hands down. Or rather, hands up, in the air!

Copyright 2010 Nathalie Kyrou

FOOD - Easter Mysteries . . . Eggs-plained

Easter Mysteries…Eggs-plained

Where did the Easter Bunny come from and what does it really have to do with Easter?

As Christian religion was blended with pagan religion to convert people more easily, the timing of the pagan festival of Eastre/Eostre coincided with the timing of the resurrection of Christ. Eastre, was the goddess of fertility, (the word ‘eastre’ meaning 'spring'). She was represented symbolically by the form of the hare or rabbit being an extremely fertile animal.

What about Easter Eggs?

Eggs are traditionally connected with rebirth, rejuvenation and immortality. The Greeks and Romans buried eggs in their tombs. Jews still present mourners on their return from the funeral of a relative with a dish of eggs as their first meal. Christianity took this ancient sign of rejoicing at rebirth and applied it to the Resurrection of Jesus.

Eggs were forbidden during Lent, making them extremely popular afterwards at Easter. In Slavic countries, baskets of food including eggs are traditionally taken to church to be blessed on Holy Saturday or before the Easter midnight Mass, then taken home for part of Easter breakfast.

Other European countries such as Poland and the Ukraine have a long tradition of decorating Easter eggs with intricate designs. The Russians are most famous for this. During the reign of the tsars, they celebrated Easter much more elaborately than Christmas, with quantities of decorated eggs given as gifts. The Russian royal family carried the custom to great lengths, giving exquisitely detailed jeweled eggs made by goldsmith Carl Faberge (1880's -1917).

In Germany and other countries of central Europe, eggs that are use to make Easter foods are not broken, but emptied out. The empty shells are then painted and decorated with bits of lace, cloth or ribbon, then hung with ribbons on an evergreen or small leafless tree. In fact the decorated tree is popular in other cultures: on the third Sunday before Easter, Moravian village girls used to carry a tree decorated with eggshells and flowers from house to house for good luck. The eggshell tree is also one of several Easter Traditions carried to America by German settlers especially those who became known as Pennsylvania Dutch. They also brought the fable that the Easter bunny delivered coloured eggs for good children.


Eggs-tremely Interesting facts about Easter:

Each year witnesses the making of nearly 90 million chocolate bunnies.

When it comes to eating of chocolate bunnies, it is the ears that are preferred to be eaten first by as many as 76% of people.

By tradition, it was obligatory (or at least lucky) for churchgoers to wear some bright new piece of clothing - at least an Easter bonnet, if not a complete new outfit.

The painting of eggs is traditionally called Pysanka by the Ukranians.

In medieval times a festival of egg-throwing was held in church, during which the priest would throw a hard-boiled egg to one of the choir boys. It was then tossed from one choir boy to the next and whoever held the egg when the clock struck 12 was the winner and retained the egg.

In Cyprus people play an Easter egg game in which each person takes a hard boiled, coloured egg and tap the ends of their eggs together. If your egg breaks you leave the game for the next person to try. The player left with an unbroken egg is the winner.

Americans consume 15 million jellybeans at Easter, many of them hidden in baskets. If all the Easter jellybeans were lined end to end, they would circle the globe nearly three times.

In Greece, people paint hard-boiled eggs red and bake them into sweet bread loaves on the Thursday before Easter. The red colour stands for the blood of Christ.

Reading detective novels and crime thrillers has become a popular Easter occurrence in Norway. Paaskekrim (Easter crime) refers to the new crime novels available at Easter. Professors at the University of Oslo believe the growing tradition of reading about crime at Easter stems from the violent nature of Christ's death.

Children in Guatemala go out onto the streets on Good Friday to remember Jesus' journey to the cross. People bang drums and let off fireworks. This starts at 5am and goes on until after midnight. Some people also dress as Roman soldiers and at 3pm, which was the time Jesus was put on the cross, everyone changes into black clothing.

Easter was called Pesach by early Christians. It is a Hebrew name for Passover. Today, the name for Easter in many cultures in Europe are similar to the word Pesah such as Paques in France, Pascha in Greece, Pask in Sweden and Pasqua in Italian.

According to the Guinness Book of World Records, the largest Easter egg ever was just over 25-ft high and made of chocolate and marshmallow. The egg weighed 8,968 lbs. and was supported by an internal steel frame.


Nathalie Kyrou © 2009. All rights reserved to the author.

MUSIC - Listen and Harmonize...Review and Interview

Listen and Harmonize by Nathalie Kyrou

Plato said “Philosophy is the highest music”, Beethoven said “Music is a higher revelation that all wisdom and philosophy”. Could music be the highest philosophy? Experiencing the Cyprus’ International Music Festival and an interview with one of the artists opens the doors to musical enlightenment.

In the magnificent setting of the ancient Kourion theatre, the annual International Music Festival celebrated its first year of “beauty through music and landscape” this summer. Founders and organizers, Teresa Dello Monaco and Paolo Cremona, did a tremendous job of selecting world renown musicians, and combining various musical styles (the festival is open to classical, jazz, traditional and avant-garde music) with a setting that evokes deep-felt emotion. Comprising of three evening concert performances, the festival, this year, hosted Daniel Levy who offered us a fresh, new perspective of classical works; the Jacques Loussier Trio who enthralled us with never-heard before alchemies of jazz and classical melodies; and the gypsy jazz energy of the fun and young Zaiti ensemble.

Fade in. An open-air amphitheatre, perched on a cliff-top amongst ancient ruins, set against a backdrop of the Mediterranean Sea. The night sky is dark and sprinkled with glittering stars. In the distance lies a faint outline of the horizon. The wind whispers through the air while waves can be heard crashing upon the shore below. A crowd gathers on the stone seats of this intimate venue. There is a buzz of excitement in the air. Daniel Levy is about to perform on the black polished Steinway lying alone in the middle of the stage.

Levy caresses the keys softly before his slow commencement of Brahms. The music softly creeps up on you, without the need for amplifiers, as his fingers scurry over the ivory bars. When he pauses, the vast silence of the venue engulfs you. Levy’s expression matches the music’s vivid character. He makes what is difficult to perform, look easy, delivering piece after piece with clarity and concentrated melody. He teases us gently with his pianissimo, amazing us with his accuracy. Every single note is played with extreme care and attention to detail.

Mesmerizing us with his Chopin performance, Levy captivates his listeners with his skillful rendition of the Barcarolle. The second half of the recital contains more recognizable music from Chopin and Schumann - works with a more romantic feel to them – a perfect complement to the enchanting surroundings. During Liszt, Levy’s left digits rumble over the keys like rolling thunder, his right fingertips like raindrops tinkling on glass. Keeping us on our toes with changes of tempo, he delivers a memorable ending to the piece, then entrances us with his encore, an improvisation surprisingly played solely with his left hand. The finale is a dramatic display of musical flair as Levy ends the performance like a storyteller finishing a tale with gusto.

Not only a master of music on stage, but also a kind, intelligent and interesting man, the renown Daniel Levy inspired me during our interview:

You have said that “Music is a language”. Can you elaborate?

Not only is music a language, but language itself comes from music. In India, grammarians are musicians - they understand grammar from their love of music. The origins of words are often derived from music. Take the word "accordo" in Italian, rooted in music and adapted into everyday language. Same with the word "sympathy" –often the tone of one's voice is described as being sympathetic. How about “strings”? Have you ever heard of the expression: "pulling/tugging at one’s heart-strings" to denote emotion? This epitomizes the link between music, language and feelings. Even the word “heart” is very close to the word “heard”. When you say you learn things "by heart", you mean that you hear it, and then remember it... once again to do with sounds and listening.

Music is literature without words. The ballad represents a poem, the ‘novellette’ is a short novel in small parts. The composer doesn't tell you what the story is (in words), but you can hear the 'voices' in the music. Actually, the great composers were inspired by novels. Liszt's ‘Vallée d’Obermann’ is a great example of this – the music was inspired by a book of the same title, which tells the story of a man (Obermann) who went to Switzerland to a valley (not an actual place but more of a philosophical state) to find himself.

You chose to record Schumann’s works and perform him at the festival this year? What do you find so unique and inspiring about his music?

Schumann was a sympathetic man, which is why so many listeners were affected by his music. There was a sense of singing and poetry in his works, and he was inspired by children and nostalgia, all of which give his music a sense of freedom, intuition, and purity, which attracts me. His compositions may not appear to be difficult to play but they are in fact more complicated than other "acrobatics" on stage, which seem to have more music packed into a piece. With Schumann there is so much yet to discover. In 2010 it will be his 200th anniversary - celebrated by musicians all across the world. My aim is to bring some of his less popular works to light. There is no motivation to do this amongst managers of music - it is always the same pieces which are performed and recorded, and yet he has so many other compositions. Using a celebration as a reason to discover more of his work is a great way to get to know him better.

How about Chopin?

The thing about Chopin is that the pieces that are usually performed are usually “spectacular” and seem difficult to play. The Barcarolle is a little different as it seems easier and yet it’s not. I believe it’s harder to play a very good pianissimo than a forte. Also velocity is not the most important indication of difficulty either. Something andante and without noise is more challenging to impress people with. It's like being naked on a stage.


How do you see live performances evolving in the modern world?

The 'concert' as we know it is quite recent. Piano recitals were the continuity of poetry, begun by Liszt. In fact in the 19th century, it was not uncommon to have 4 hour long performances with singers, sonatas and orchestras - it was not until the end of that century when the focus was shifted to one artist for each recital. These days, music has become a pause, an interval. It is hard to capture all that the composer was trying to say in just a couple of hours. Although I do believe that is it not only about how long the piece is, but how intense it is for both the audience and the performers, we cannot deeply appreciate what is happening, when we don't have enough time.

I believe in the influence of music on human beings: in taking time out, in making a choice to listen. Music is a mirror of time - it is impossible to shorten the time it takes to listen to a sonata - it takes as long as it takes. You just cannot squish the story. What’s also important is that music must sound, even if it is an old composition, as though it were something that is happening - and relevant - now. Each time you hear it, it could be interpreted differently.

How does recording in studio compare with live concerts?

Sometimes a truly well executed recording of a piece can give you a different yet equally satisfying experience of the music compared to a live performance. There is something to be said about listening alone versus listening with people. With live concerts, sometimes because of technicalities or conditions not being right, they may not turn out as perfect as is desired. I love playing with an orchestra, as well as doing solos, but actually working with the ensemble rather than just showing up on the concert night and playing without rehearsing with them beforehand. When it comes to the audience, I can tell during the performance if they are "willing to listen". There is a different between hearing and listening.

Is this part of what you have written about in your novels, as well as what you are trying to teach in your newly founded Academy of Euphony?

Yes. We think that we listen very well, simply because we have ears, but that's not true. We learn to talk, write, and read at school, but how about just listening? The great composers all had so many things in common: they were all deep listeners, completely aware of the music, of its role, and what it can evoke in you. When you first study the composers it seems that they were simply romantic and poetic, when in fact they were simply aware that one can transcend themselves with music.
You cannot discover such things in a regular academy, which is why I have founded the Academy of Euphony, a place to share, accessible to all. We are all musical instruments in an orchestra - each of us with a different pitch. We can all offer something to one another, no matter what our background is - as long as we feel the necessity. It would be a borderless form of teaching, with no divisions, where each person can take or give as they wish, educating themselves in the process. The challenge is to: i) Experience sound, ii) Listen, and iii) Go beyond. The idea is to explore harmony, as the body itself is a harmonic human unity… a true musical chord.
Pythagoras originated the idea of the enlightening and healing power of sounds and music thousands of years ago, however you seem to be the pioneer in bringing the idea of Euphony as a state of consciousness to the attention of modern society. Why now, and how will you succeed when so many others have failed?

So many people in time have tried to do this, but silently, without listening. Music was not essential before... but it is the right moment now. It seems that there is greatest necessity to address this issue now that there is so much ‘noise’ in the world. Recognizing that this sort of education could be essential to each one of us is a natural reaction to this. The Dalai Lama said: “In a moment of so much communication, and yet no communication...there are so many windows, but nothing in the room”.

One doesn’t have to be a musician in the professional sense - we are all musicians in the essential way…we have music within us. We are all able to appreciate it; something resonates inside us when we hear music, even if we don't understand it completely, and that is a marvelous experience. We are the musical instruments, we are sound… I mean we use sound in our voices, when we speak and in song. Have you ever thought: why and how is it possible that we can produce certain sounds like this so naturally? Maybe we need to have more responsibility about this power. We must swim against the current. The fear of finding ourselves, leads us only to become less human.

You have definitely been a great mentor to others. Do you prefer teaching or performing?

They are so different that you cannot compare – it’s like "a different frequency" altogether. Having one without the other would not be good. Sharing is important – it is essential to hear what others have to say. Just playing would be like being of touch with reality; you wouldn't have a clue what people are searching for in music, what they need. If we don't listen to people first, why should we listen to music?

As the performance ends, the last notes of music drift up the theatre and dissolve into the atmosphere. The roaring crowds explode into applause. Smiles adorn the faces of musicians, as laughter rumbles amongst the delighted audience. The lights dim and the people climb up the rocky steps, empting the amphitheatre. There is an overall sense of satisfaction intermingled with a touch of sadness, as it will be a whole year before the ancient grounds of Kourion host the International Music Festival again. Fade out.

Nathalie Kyrou © 2008. All rights reserved to the author.

FILM REVIEW - Hold me Tight, Let me Go

by Nathalie Kyrou

Hold me tight, let me go is the latest documentary by English filmmaker, Kim Longinotto, who once again turns her compassionate lens onto people living in extraordinary circumstances. In her fifteenth film, which won the Jury Prize Award in The International Film Festical Amsterdam (IDFA) and Best British Feature Documentary: Britdoc, 2007, we are invited to take a deep look at the forty children of Mulberry Bush boarding school who have been sent there because of extreme behaviour. Often having suffered severe emotional trauma, they need all the help they can get if they are going to try and turn their lives around.

We follow the lives of these fragile young boys at the heart of the film over a period of time, fast-forwarding between months and switching back and forth between characters. Reminding one a little of ‘Être Et Avoir’ - also set over several seasons in a rural community but in a French school - Hold me tight, let me go may not be in French, but should perhaps come with a warning like “Excuse my French!”, because this is a film that keeps shocking us with the kids’ abusive language (“I’m gonna kick you in the c%*@!” or “Shut up your fat b*$%@” or “F%^& you, little bastard!”) As saddening it is to hear such explicit words exploding out of these children’s mouths, it is clear that they are only repeating what they themselves have heard from the dysfunctional adults in their lives.

The children lash out in other shocking ways, apart from swearing, by hitting and spitting their way through their misery, while endlessly patient and determined staff members try to verbally reason with them, often (and sadly) having to resort to restraining them physically. “In your face” scenes where children are held by the wrist, or even held to the ground, are truly disturbing to watch. Indeed, the camera leaves nothing out. Sometimes – and I don’t know if Longinotto meant for this to be obvious – the staff, although remarkably calm, come off as annoying. It is the tone in their voices which is a tad too irritating and overly patronizing. When families break down, the result is an angry and hurt child who may need more than restraint or some psychological question like “What colour does your sadness look like?” in order to heal. The irreplaceable importance of a mother’s love, for instance, is apparent in scenes showing one child not being able to let go of his mum when it is time to say goodbye. When the camera captures the staff saying that it feels like they “can’t get it right”, they do not gain our sympathy (imagine what the children are feeling!), however flipping points of view does effectively show us their side of the story, allowing us to see that they too struggle in their own ways.

The families’ perspectives are also briefly portrayed, like for example when towards the end of the movie Alex’s mum breaks downs when chatting to a counselor, confessing how she is also a victim of family dysfunction, thus showing us how abuse and neglect can have a domino effect. The significance of family time together is also emphasized, especially in the parts when children are on their best behavior and eager to interact when family visit, as well as in heart wrenching scenes like when a child is in tranquil bliss as his mother caresses and praises him.

This film, not surprisingly but perhaps unconsciously, delves into psychology. When Alex, the boy sitting on the red (psychologist’s?) couch tells the adult: “I’m here, you’re there,” we get a real sense of the distance felt between kids and adults. Although Longonitto did not meet the boys before filming them, she grew to get to know them well through the filming process, and has said how she loves their smartness. “Nearly every adult gets things wrong,” says Alex insightfully. He also sarcastically adds, “With a few words I could change the world,” which just goes to show that in the same way that communication is overvalued by adults, it is seems to be highly overrated from a child’s point of view. Yet, the awareness that these young boys have is amazing; I giggled out loud during the dialogue: “I hate my life”, “What do you hate about it?” I can’t tell you ’cos the cameraman’s shooting!”

Michael, one of the main characters is the perfect example of transformation, something exemplified by family scenes when he proudly shows off his work to his family. In fact, Michael’s development of self-esteem and growth is shown throughout the film. A great moment is when he sings Suspicious Minds at the concert - lyrics such as “We can’t go on together….with suspicious minds” make it an interesting (staged?) song choice. Afterwards, Longinotto successfully captures the sadness of goodbyes in Michael’s tears - he may not have wanted to be there in the first place but at the end he doesn’t want to leave. This film encapsulates the appreciation, and also the wisdom and support, that one child offers another in times of emotional fragility. The boys may be fighting in class, but the way they cry and hug in moments like these shows us how vulnerable they really are, how, no matter how tough they may act, they are just kids after all.

This documentary, although disturbing, is one that unveils the raw reality in the lives of troubled children, something which wouldn’t hurt us all to be aware of. What the film manages to achieve is to show how important, not only verbal communication is, but also the art of listening - something that most kids (and some parents) don’t seem to know enough about. From tantrums to bullying to pulling out knives on each other, it is obvious that the boys are simply calling out for attention in their confusion and anger. Nevertheless, as a staff member points out to them, asking for help is important, but there are other ways to do it.

Although handheld cameras play a background character in long shots where the action unfolding before us tells the story, Longonitto cuts any monotony that might be felt - keeping the viewers on their toes - by inserting shocking subtitles at various points throughout the movie: “At lunchtime Ben attacked Alex with a knife” or “He only spends 6 days a year with his mum at the school” or “Robert, 9 years old” we then learn urinated all over his bedroom carpet. Through the intimate use of close-ups, the director succeeds in capturing the childrens’ transformations (from little angel to aggressive tiger), and what kept me engrossed until the very end were the boys’ volatile temperaments: from yelling to laughing, from hysterics to tranquility.

Hold Me Tight, Let Me Go is ultimately a heartbreaking study of dysfunction, and the endless cycle of help and struggle for those who suffer. It pays witness to the tremendous influence that adults hold - for bad and for good - upon growing kids, epitomizing the fact that children are just children, and will always need and value their parents’ love, support and attention. The film also skillfully embodies the terrifying feelings of abandonment and the crucial effects of farewell on vulnerable children. With a clever choice of music (like in the last scene where the optimistic, if a little cheesy, lyrics: “I can see clearly now the rain has gone” belt out of the stereo) we are surprisingly left, not with depression because of the dismal world have just witnessed, but with hope that there can be a happy ending. In one interview, Longonitto expressed how difficult it was to gain the trust of the staff members in order to shoot this documentary - I am pleased she stuck through it because this is one rollercoaster of a film worth watching.

Nathalie Kyrou © 2008. All rights reserved to the author.