Directed by Teona Strugar Mitevska, The Happiest Man in the World is another exploration of the possibility of forgiveness; or more importantly of moving on.
Synopsis:
Asja, a 40-year-old single woman, lives in Sarajevo. In order to meet new people, she ends up spending her Saturday in a speed dating event. She’s matched with Zoran, a 43-year-old banker. However, Zoran is not looking for love but forgiveness.
Review:
There’s a recognisable but fun quality in the setup of The Happiest Man in the World (Najsreќniot Čovek na Svetot, 2022), which previously screened at Venice International Film Festival (Orizzonti Competition) and Toronto International Film Festival (Contemporary World Cinema) to name but a few. The protagonists gather at an unfamiliar place like wide-eyed children on the first day of school. Some are first-timers, others experienced repeaters and some are late. Their ‘matrons’ hand out uniforms in order to get them more comfortable – a sophistic argument that is a first pointer to the ambiguity of what we call ‘normal life’ in Sarajevo.
The guests have gathered for an all-day speed dating event in which they hope to find love through the help of science. Asja Bakić is the luckiest of them all – she has already matched with a partner online and hopes only get higher when Zoran arrives. Their first set of activities is answering questions read out loud by a computer. Simple enough task for everyone in the room. But not for Zoran who has arrived with a terrible secret to get off his chest.
“I shot at my own town,” Zoran blurts as one of the answers and Asja stays frozen. The turning of former neighbours on each other and executions as a perverted game is an open wound for Sarajevo, while the Yugoslav War is a topic that permeates the consciousness of the Balkans and has (for better or for worse) an incessant hold on our art. The Happiest Man in the World is another exploration of the possibility of forgiveness; or more importantly of moving on.
Too bad that the synopsis for the film reveals that Asja is the person Zoran shot at almost 30 years ago. Instead of positioning the audience as the omniscient onlooker, power could have been shifted to Asja’s court with the audience grasping to each of the characters’ words for more details. By choosing to reveal ‘the twist’ before it even happened, The Happiest Man in the World locks Asja away once more into the role of the powerless victim while Zoran and the audience are in the know. Even the characters within the story don’t allow Asja agency. Following Zoran’s revelation, Asja throws handballs at him. A minor offence compared to the table Zoran broke in frustration earlier and never even got told off.
Although The Happiest Man in the World is based on a true story, the elements of the day that are meant to hold it together fall short. The discussions about war between young generations and old are unconvincing and performatory. In fact, the entire film takes on a staged quality after Zoran’s admission. Reality and imagination, and reality and horror begin to intertwine. But we are rarely in doubt about which scenes are part of the film’s reality and which are depictions of turmoil within the main characters. The artistic choice is familiar and tiring. Is there really nothing new to be said about the war?
Handheld cameras invading protagonists’ faces while they grapple with astonishing information or textbook developments of surrealist scenes to send a meta-message are hallmarks of an artist who holds all the necessary pieces of the puzzle but lacks the motor skills to put them together. This isn’t Teona Strugar Mitevska’s fault. As the director she threw everything she knows about making movies at this film. This was her only mistake. Logic and linearity has no place in a conflict-zone. And things rarely add up.
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