‘Without Air’: Thessaloniki Review

Dir: Katalin Moldovai. Hungary/Romania. 2023. 105mins

“You’re paid to teach values. To set the right standards,” Transylvanian high school teacher Ana (Agnes Krasznahorkai) is told by the father of one of her school pupils. He is angry because she suggested her literature class, including his son Viktor (Soma Sandor), might like to watch Agnieska Holland’s Total Eclipse, which features a romance between poets Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine. While he is using the word ‘right’ to mean ‘correct’, in his view the political leaning of the word could just as easily apply in a drama that scrutinises the rise of societal intolerance and culture war populism.

 Scrutinises the rise of societal intolerance and culture war populism

Romanian-born, Hungary-based director Katalin Moldovai takes a measured approach to these hot button issues in her debut feature, which has been attracting attention on the festival circuit since its premiere in Toronto’s Discovery section. Without Air opens in Hungary on November 2 and its Warsaw and Thessaloniki outings should presage further festival play – even if some of its thematic similarity to Hungary’s own highly-regarded Venice Horizons and Chicago festival winner Explanation For Everything will almost certainly overshadow it for now.

Given that LGBT+ rights and oppression are ongoing issues in many places in eastern Europe the film’s setting is an interesting one, with the action taking place at a school within whose precise location is never overtly referenced. Ana is a popular teacher, encouraging her pupils to stretch their imaginations and express themselves through poetry. She is generally well liked by the staff, too, including the principal Eva (Tunde Skovran), who has just given her the job of putting together a show for the school’s 150th anniversary. Even when the letter from Viktor’s dad lands on Eva’s desk, she assures Ana they will sort it out. 

Soon, however, Ana is finding that sticking to her principles comes at a cost, not just to herself but to anyone who finds themselves, even inadvertently, in her corner.  This is a film of raised temperatures without raised voices, exemplified by an oppressive car ride between father and son that drips with tension.

Moldovai and co-writer Zita Paloczi do not just make Ana a one-dimensional symbol. We see her outside of her classes, navigating other familiar tribulations of modern life, including problems with her ageing mum and a long-distance relationship with her medic boyfriend (Barna Bokor), who is working overseas and is keen for her to join him – even if it means she takes a much lower skilled job. Krasznahorkai follows Moldovai’s restrained lead, portraying the teacher as determined but level-headed and genuinely surprised by the way the system begins to close in on her. 

The mood of the film is enhanced by costume design from Illyes Katya for the two leads, while production design gives the school a generally nurturing feel, with plants everywhere, yet talk of the crimate crisis on the radio and television and a recurrent bear motif suggest that danger is never far away.

The insidious nature of socio-political pressure to conform twists like a snake through Moldovai’s film, gradually squeezing the life out of independent thought. One kid’s almost casual remark that she likes Ana’s lessons leads to unexpected consequences elsewhere; Ana’s colleague Mark (Aron Dimeny) finds himself facing difficult choices after a parents’ meeting; and Eva starts to change her tune when she realises her funding is under threat. The way one person’s view can taint that of others increasingly comes into focus, as does the modern tendency for stories to go viral – although Moldova again avoids any sensationalism. 

As the school boasts education of the next generation “in the name of freedom”, Moldova lets the unspoken question of who gets to define the rules of that freedom hang in the air.