“A poetic ode to motherhood.”

Family is everything, whether referring to biological connections or the relationships we choose ourselves. However, it can also be somewhat daunting to dedicate every waking moment of your life to caring for your loved ones, which is especially true of the parents of disabled children, many of whom have to reconfigure their entire lives to be in service of their dependents. Most do it without any hesitation, but it does not change the fact that it is a lifelong commitment that brings with it a number of complex emotions. These are explored extensively in Caravan, the beautiful directorial debut by Zuzana Kirchnerová, in which we follow Ester, a single mother who intends to spend a bit of time on the Italian coast. Due to unforeseen complications she has to be accompanied by her mentally disabled son David, who requires constant care and attention, making her plans for a peaceful, solitary vacation much less likely. This quiet, character-based drama explores the trials and tribulations of a character who has been dealt a hand that she was not expecting, but still intends to handle it as best as she can, all the while making some effective and heartbreakingly beautiful observations on the lives of those who set aside their own personal ambitions to make the world a more comfortable place for those who cannot navigate it on their own.  

From its hauntingly beautiful first moments, Caravan establishes itself as a poetic ode to motherhood, which covers both the joys and challenges of being a parent to someone who is not equipped to tackle life on their own. The structure is heavily influenced by a canon of road films, where we follow characters as they undergo both a physical and spiritual journey. The person Ester is at the start of the film is not necessarily the same one that we encounter in those striking final scenes, where the clarity earned during this voyage of self-discovery provides her with a sense of emotional catharsis, unburdening her from the feeling that she has to consistently take the backseat to a son who demands the lion’s share of attention and affection. Much of the credit must go to Anna Geislerová, whose performance is the anchor for the entire film. Where a less-skilled actor would play to the rafters, she chooses a more subtle and intimate approach, finding meaning in the quieter moments. The camera clearly adores Geislerová, since so much of the impact of this performance comes in her use of expressions and gestures; these communicate more than the dialogue ever could. The film’s conversations around motherhood and its various challenges are beautifully complemented by her lovely, heartfelt performance, realising the underlying themes in a simple but very effective way.

Considering the extent to which it lays out its intentions clearly and without any reliance on ambiguity, Caravan is certainly not a film that intends to hide behind layers of allusion, preferring instead to be mostly direct in what it aims to say. This is the key to its success, as it does not have any room for superfluous detours or themes that rarely relate to the central conversations. However, there are a few aspects that do not manage to evade being quite conventional. This is primarily found in the use of emotions, since the subject matter cannot avoid being at least somewhat sentimental. The film smartly moves away from becoming too heavy-handed, and it is never condescending to the point where it loses its spark. There are, nonetheless, a few moments where it does become slightly too focused on emphasising the underlying meaning, when a more subdued approach to some of the ideas might have yielded better results. Still, Caravan is very effective, especially in how Kirchnerová combines a poignant story of motherhood with a particular visual aesthetic, capturing the stunning beauty of various locations across Europe that we encounter while we undergo a heartfelt journey with these characters as they get to know each other and themselves.

Ultimately, Caravan is an undeniably straightforward film, and one that seems to be as defined by its simplicity as it is restricted, leading to a solid but otherwise conventional film. We do encounter the expected shortcomings often associated with directorial debuts, albeit quite minor and mostly inconsequential, barely influencing the overall result, and instead indicating that the director has a truly promising career ahead as her authorial voice continues to grow. However, this is not a criticism, but rather an observation on the heartfelt ideas that propel this film and make it so quietly effective. Kirchnerová is clearly fascinated by the idea of souls in transit, following the journeys (both internal and physical) of these people as they move through a world that they initially believe to be hostile, but come to learn has the potential to be welcoming as soon as one takes the leap and embraces the unknown. By avoiding the low-hanging fruit and choosing instead to give a simple but effective account of the voyage of a mother and son in which they both provide each other with valuable life lessons, Caravan becomes a beautiful and moving film that has an abundance of heart and soul, tackling an intimidating subject with grace, affection and an extraordinary attention to the nuances of the human condition.