Since 2019, the directing duo Elsa Kremser and Levin Peter have been making experimental, artistic films for a demanding audience. However, the collaboration between the German and the Austrian began in 2016 when they founded their own production company. Their joint film debut followed three years later with the essayistic documentary “Space Dogs,” which was infused with magical realism. The two 40-year-old filmmakers then chose a more realistic, accessible approach with “Dreaming Dogs,” also a documentary work. It's about a woman and her seven stray dogs who live together in the shadow of the metropolis of Moscow.
Kremser and Peter's first feature film is now available, the romantic drama “White Snail,” which tells the story of the rapprochement between two urban outsiders. In it they mix some of the tried and tested elements and plot patterns from the previous works and add their own, original touch to the fictional events. Animals also play a role again this time, albeit in a completely different way than expected.
Masha (Marya Imbro) finds that life as a model is anything but stable.
Masha (Marya Imbro) lives as a model in the Belarusian capital Minsk and dreams of a great career. The young woman is mentally unstable and recently attempted suicide. Since then, she has been trying to find her way back to life between her classes at the modeling school, therapeutic treatments and long walks.
One night she happens to meet Misha (Mikhail Senkov), who works in a Minsk morgue. Masha is immediately fascinated by his work and also feels a strangely intense attraction to Misha himself, which is apparently mutual. It is the beginning of an extraordinary connection between two people who complement each other and are united in a feeling of alienation from the world…
The model and the painter
At first glance, the protagonists couldn't be more different. There is the petite Masha, who, in all her fragility and androgyny, looks like a cross between David Bowie in the “Ziggy Stardust” era, Tilda Swinton and (early) Annie Lennox. She comes across the portly, tattooed Misha, who has been dealing with dead people on a daily basis for over 20 years. He has an esoteric streak and a thing for folklore and old myths. Nevertheless, from a purely external perspective, he seems rather intimidating, not least because of his concentrated gaze. But behind the rough facade lies a sensitive, highly empathetic character. He is the person who gives Masha the support she has longed for. And he is a passionate painter who deals with the themes of dying and transience in his melancholy oil paintings.
In a very personal moment, he beautifully summarizes his relationship to his great passion that gives him strength: “Art has become my life.” Kremser and Peter only need a few scenes to give their main characters amazing depth. And they usually generate these moments from the everyday by observing Masha and Misha (played sensitively by Marya Imbro and Mikhail Senkov) in their private and professional environment: When we watch Masha during catwalk training or during test shoots with the model agent and Misha examine and dissect the corpses, then “White Snail” seems almost documentary – and Kremser and Peter know each other very well in this field out.
The titular white snail is not only metaphorical, but also actually appears in “White Snail”.
Another note about the fashion industry: unsurprisingly, it doesn't fare well in “White Snail”. Hard drills and an almost inhumane, unpleasantly shrill and harsh tone determine the interaction between the agent and model trainer and the young women: “Do more sport”! The atmospheric moments of togetherness are all the more decelerated and relaxed when the lonely souls get to know each other better on the park bench or on long walks – often strikingly at night or at dusk. Mind you, this is just about getting to know each other in the form of intensive, in-depth conversations. There is no physical approach.
Physical contact (a hug) between the two seekers of meaning in the center – that much can be revealed at this point – only occurs in the last third. In short: Kemser and Peter never follow the common principles and patterns of many romances with similar content. “White Snail” is not a typical love film because it always gives Masha and Misha a kind of (safe) distance. In doing so, the German-Austrian directing duo avoids any sentimentality and ultimately avoids the danger of overly cheesy and expected moments. Another positive thing is that they never judge their diverse characters, with all their contradictions and whimsy. They forbid themselves to judge and let Masha and Misha be who they are.
An atypical love story
The themes the film explores beneath the surface are multi-layered and complex. They are also strongly reminiscent of the main content of its predecessor “Diamond Dogs”. It's about life and death, about vulnerability, fears and isolation in a life full of dangers and uncertainties. These repeatedly penetrate the characters' lives in the form of radio reports and video news about the uncertain political situation in dictatorially ruled Belarus. And then there is the matter of the animals. This time it's not dogs, but snails that take on a symbolic role – the title already suggests it.
The possible metaphorical equivalents that Kemser and Peter offer are many and yet they all fit wonderfully into this gentle, sensitively told story. In some spiritual contexts, the rare white snail (no coincidence: Masha's clearly albino complexion) is considered a symbol of transformation and purity. Both can be directly transferred to “White Snail”. Masha in particular undergoes a character change over the course of the film and her connection to Misha remains innocent and pure until the end – both physically and morally.
Conclusion: “White Snail” lives from its documentary face and meaningful visual symbolism. Just as slowly as snails move through their world, the connection between the two main characters develops as calmly and leisurely in this unconventional, urgent mix of drama and romance.