Sweet Bunch (1983)

In response to Italian critics who claimed that his debut feature Euridice BA 2037 (1975) “finally proves Lyotard’s cinematographic theories as well as the solution to many of the problems which puzzled Pasolini for years”, Nikos Nikolaidis humorously remarked “I am embarassed because I didn’t know then and I still don’t know anything about Lyotard’s theories or Pasolini’s problems.” Nevertheless, there is a certain parallel between Nikolaidis and Pasolini. Much like Pasolini, who preferred to explore the more underground and downtrodden aspects of Italian society, never once pointing his camera at one of Rome's many historical monuments, the same could be said of Nikolaidis who always focused on those on the fringes of Greek society, no shots of the Acropolis to be found. It was of course a natural decision on Nikolaidis' part with the director himself being an outsider in the realm of Greek film, treated like a pariah by the Greek Film Commission who did their best to give Nikolaidis a constant headache, holding back funding and even going so far as preventing his work from playing internationally at festivals. Nikolaidis' defiant attitude first drew the ire of the authorities with his second feature The Wretches are StillSinging (1979) and his outsider status was solidified with 1983's Sweet Bunch, a film described by the president of the GFC at the time as being unfit for the Greek public to see.

Three friends, Argyris, Marina and Sofia, soon joined by Andreas, fresh out of prison, live a nihilistic existence, sharing an apartment paid for by Sofia, living day to day by any means necessary, usually through petty crime. Their stagnation is interrupted by a mysterious stranger lurking outside their apartment who soon becomes a constant presence, much to the annoyance of the group. When others begin showing up to talk to the mysterious stranger, the group begins to grow increasingly paranoid and begins to believe they are being spied on, the tension finally boiling over when Roza, an adult film actress the gang had let into their fold somewhat and whom Andreas had taken a liking to, is found nearly dead after being slashed in the gangs apartment, forcing the gang to take up arms in preparation for the inevitable bloody showdown.

In many ways Sweet Bunch (Glykia Symmoria, Γλυκιά Συμμορία) could be considered the quintessential Nikolaidis film. Although the majority of the key ideas Nikolaidis would continuously explore were fairly well formed in Euridice BA 2037 and The Wretches are Still Singing, with Sweet Bunch everything becomes concrete. Although not a part of Nikolaidis' “Shape of the Coming Nightmare” trilogy, Sweet Bunch shares the sense of vagueness that permeates those films. Much like its never explained how society descended into a totalitarian dystopia in the “Coming Nightmare” films, the exact reason for the surveillance of the gang in Sweet Bunch remains somewhat elusive, although politics surely plays a role. While the crimes of the gang are ultimately inconsequential, hardly requiring such an extreme response by the state, the metaphor of a police state at war with idealists is no doubt going to spring to mind for many. The group dynamic established in The Wretches is further expanded, and although the gang at the heart of film could be classified as sociopathic, Nikolaidis establishes a sense of solidarity with them, and as the film progresses it becomes nearly impossible not to full embrace them and feel as territorial, wanting to stand guard alongside them, making the films final third all the more devastating. The surreal comedy from The Wretches is also carried over, Sofia's pastime involving staged necrophilia being especially hilarious and Nikolaidis once again showcases his impeccable musical tastes, most noticeably with the inclusion of two deep cuts from Black Sabbath's Technical Ecstasy album.

A curious thing occurred before the film began production. As Nikolaidis recalls, “A few days before we started shooting, some unusual strangers, resembling Che Guevara’s cousins appeared before me and said: “Give us your script, we’ll read it and let you know whether you should make this movie”. Of course, I gave it to them. Two days later, they returned it saying “We approve, you can go ahead”. And I went ahead and shot it. What do you have to say about that?” Although the film came about fairly easy, aforementioned incident aside, Nikoliadis said that, while he loves the film, its actually not one of his favorites when compared to others as he states “It's a film that came out very easily. In other words, I kind of had this film in my mind way before I shot it. It's not one of my favorite films. It was way to easy for me... The reason I love this film is because of the people in the crew... all these people that lived together for those six months, they decorated the house on their own, they contributed to the script..."  Despite the film not being one of Nikolaidis' favorites, and although the film can be quite intimidating be it the heavy run time or the at times opaque narrative, Sweet Bunch may very well may be the perfect starting point for Nikolaidis newcomers. 

The Wretches are Still Singing (1979)

While many Greek films have found international success on the festival circuit, Greek cinema does perhaps feel a bit insular to an outsider looking in. When the Greek government began to subsidize films, it opened up a range of possibilities as not only did it aid in financing films but it helped Greek films to be seen outside the country. Naturally politics reared its ugly head as films with government subsidies were expected to pander so it should come as no surprise that Nikos Nikolaidis was constantly at odds with the Greek Film Commission who treated him more or less like a pariah, giving him the short end of the stick when it came to funding and in some cases making him wait to actually get what little money they were prepared to give. Although there were festivals in Greece that were always open to Nikolaidis' films, when it came to international showings, the GFC were determined to keep Nikolaidis' work hidden, even going so far as lying to festival organizers claiming that a film wasn't completed or not good enough to be shown. It was with his second film, The Wretches are Still Singing, where Nikolaidis' not only began to draw the ire of the GFC, but it also saw him continuing certain ideas born in his debut feature Euridice BA 2037 (1975) as well as give way to another loose trilogy.

A sarcastic description of The Wretches are Still Singing would be The Big Chill (1983) for psychopaths. A group of friends who affectionately refer to themselves as “The Wretches”, all products of the 1950's, reunite for an annual gathering at the home of Alkis, the defacto leader of the gang. Once a drummer, Alkis now passes the time by murdering young woman, all the while pining for his long lost love Vera. Konstantinos and Hristos, known to the group as “Fatty” soon arrive, the former wandering through life aimlessly, the later stuck in a dead end marriage and finally Rita, the one lone female of the group who recently escaped from a mental asylum to join to festivities. As the gang desperately tries to relive their youth in increasingly sociopathic ways, the more the weight of the modern world seems to weigh them down until the realization that times have truly changed leads some of the friends to a crossroads in life and inevitable tragedy for others.

The Wretches are Still Singing (Ta kourelia tragoudane akoma..., Τα Κουρέλια Τραγουδάνε Ακόμα...) finds Nikolaidis in two very different moods. As morose as it is brutally funny, the film marks the first of Nikolaidis examinations of the lives of those who dwell on the fringes of Greek society, giving an entirely new meaning to the cliché “You can't go home again”. As a serious drama, the film is a success simply based on Nikolaidis' presentation of the characters, making it clear that they've been unable to adapt to the changes in society and despite most of the gang being utterly insane, driven to murder and rape, their discontent with their lives does begin to weigh heavily. The genre elements that were present in Euridice BA 2017 become slightly more pronounced here, with the ghost of the gangs past hovering over the proceedings, sometimes literally with the presence of a surrogate Vera, who, despite clearly being show dead throughout parts of the film, makes herself known to certain characters. Again, the film is also morbidly hilarious, Nikolaidis' bizarre sense of humor at the fore with some hysterically nonchalant reactions to murder, with the gang freely acknowledging the open grave in Alkis' backyard, one even posing for pictures with a plastic-wrapped victim. The film is also the first showcase for Nikolaidis' brilliant musical tastes, with the era the gang is attempting to relive giving way to a phenomenal soundtrack consisting of many a sold gold oldie from the early days of rock, pop and doo-wop.

While discussing the origins of the film, Nikolaidis describes the generation that was a product of the 1950's in Greece as “A generation which was literally gagged. And its no coincidence that from the 50's generation we have nothing special in cinema or literature... It is a generation that did not believe in politics but only in friendship, love and independent opinion. And this film was filmed in a period of intense political involvement.” Nikolaidis labeled the film “A film that denies politics” so it was only natural that politics interfere with the film. As Nikolaidis recalls the absurdity surrounding controversy the film caused that became a source of embarrassment for the party in power, “The film’s release in Greece was banned during a right wing political regime, because communist film critics used the terms: “A requiem for revolutionaries” and “a dangerous film” to describe the movie. After the ban, the communists attacked the government accusing it of censorship. Then, the government allowed its viewing. What do you make of that?” A crucial title in Nikolaidis' filmography, The Wretches are Still Singing is a key example of the singular personality that defines Nikolaidis' work with its attitude, surreal humor, music and ruminations on society going on to become calling cards for Nikolaidis' subsequent works, its title even becoming a rallying cry for some. “It all started then that cretin Perry Como sang “Glendora...”

       

Euridice BA 2037 (1975)

While its always a great thing when a film from a notable director achieves international notoriety and a cult following that usually comes along with it, frustration can occur when the spotlight remains only on that one film when the filmmaker responsible has a body of work full of other equally worthy titles that remain buried for one reason or another. Such is the case with Greek filmmaker Nikos Nikolaidis. Nikolaidis' name might not be instantly recognizable, however more adventurous viewers keen on unusual cinema will no doubt be aware of his most notorious film Singapore Sling (1990), which quickly found itself to be a favorite of cult film enthusiasts widely traded on the bootleg circuit. Brilliant as Singapore Sling is, and to be sure its reputation is more than earned and deserved, the rest of Nikolaidis' films seem to be largely unknown outside of Greece despite having beautifully remastered home video releases made available by the late directors own family. Although he only directed nine features, Nikolaidis' was a filmmaker very much in the same vein as the likes of David Lynch, Walerian Borowczyk and Andrzej Zulawski. In other words, a rare breed who's collective influences form a vision so utterly singular their work exists entirely within its own universe or genre and with his debut feature film Euridice BA 2037, Nikolaidis vision proved to be original right from the very beginning.

A dystopian take on the classic Greek tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice, Euridice BA 2037 centers on Euridice (Vera Tschechowa) a young woman living alone in apartment number 2037 under a totalitarian regime. Believing her designated time living in apartment 2037 has been served, Euridice is desperate to receive a transfer to another apartment, making several calls to the governments transfer department requesting her move. The longer she waits for her transfer orders, the more frantic and paranoid Euridice becomes with her grip on reality gradually loosening, all the while receiving phone calls throughout the day from a stranger, a surrogate Orpheus, claiming to love her and asking to come visit her.

Euridice BA 2037 (ευριδίκη βα 2ο37) marks two firsts for Nikolaidis. Not only was it his first feature film but its also the first part of a trilogy Nikolaidis would dub “The Shape of the Coming Nightmare” which Nikolaidis would return to in the middle of his career with Morning Patrol (1987) and with his final film The Zero Years (2005). Centering on outsiders surviving in a world gone completely to hell under a dictatorship and nonstop surveillance, the trilogy is a bleak view of the future which could very well become the present at any time. For a debut feature, Euridice BA 2037 is a remarkably assured film with virtually all the signatures Nikolaidis would become synonymous with in future films making their debuts here, the biggest being the concept of purgatory, a theme which permeates every single one of Nikolaidis' films. An extremely claustrophobic film, the idea of Euridice's utilitarian place of residence being her own personal purgatory, as well as the overall idea of the entire outside world being an authoritarian prison, is brilliantly rendered by Nikolaidis' decision to never actually leave the apartment. Aside from a few very brief shots from Euridice's point of view outside of windows, the film is entirely confined to the apartment which only heightens the sense of unease when Euridice's paranoia intensifies and the visuals become more hallucinatory, and major credit is due to the beautiful Vera Tschechowa who carries these moments and really the film as a whole on her shoulders with ease.

Although shot in 1975, the film took six years to actually make it to Greek cinemas, however the film did play at the 1975 Thessaloniki Film Festival where it took home five awards including best director. Regarding the films critical reception, Nikolaidis humorously claimed “Certain intellectual Italian critics asserted that Euridice BA 2037 applies and finally proves Lyotard’s cinematographic theories as well as the solution to many of the problems which puzzled Pasolini for years. I am embarrassed because I didn’t know then and I still don’t know anything about Lyotard’s theories or Pasolini’s problems.” When interviewed near the end of his career he stated his intentions with the film saying “I just wanted to depict the face of a society to come, which had already given signs of its coming and in which we are living now.” Interestingly in that same interview Nikolaidis claims that Euricide BA 2037 is the film of his that he felt was his most solid. Given some of the films that would follow, its quite the statement but the fact remains that Euridice BA 2037 is the type of debut film most filmmakers strive to make on their first go around. A confident and highly imaginative take on a classic Greek tale, it was only the beginning of what was to go onto become one of the most singular and original bodies of work in world cinema.