“Voulgaris’ approach can be quite maximalist at times, but I believe there’s no such thing as ‘too much’ in a creative process.”
Margo. Loss. Creativity. Scared. Music.
People come out of people, that’s true. Writing a novel does that. Making a film. Or a song does that; with or without lyrics, even. Dreaming about and coming up with fictional people, giving them elaborate lives, making us care about them, telling their stories, whichever your craft is. It’s all part of the creative process. And then, obviously, there’s a literal meaning. Coming out of a womb, as in having a child. Just as much as in pouring your everything into your art. Motherhood and creativity, not exclusive to each other.
Margo is a famous musician, but she hasn’t created new material for the past seven years. Now that her 40th birthday is approaching, she plans a gathering with those closest to her, her friends and collaborators, in the house Margo grew up in and where she has been in isolation for these past seven years. It’s not just a house, but more a live organism full of her dreams and fears. Because that’s the house her sister Margaret left and never came back to. It’s the house where people coming out of both of them kept appearing on the doorstep, even attacking her. It’s Margo’s shelter. And her prison.
A birthday party with friends and her partner Rhea, right on the days surreal things keep coming out of and scaring Margo, will be the dreamlike experience where she’ll have to learn not to be afraid. People come out of people. Like, everyone; there’s no need to be scared. Of creativity, of motherhood, of failure. Margo’s biological clock may also be ticking, but she’ll need people to embrace the world outside. Late parents. Friends. All her loved ones.
They Come Out of Margo (Vgainoun mesa ap ti Margo), the new feature film by director and musician Alexandros Voulgaris (a.k.a. The Boy) opening in the main Proxima Competition of the Karlovy Vary festival, comes out as a process on creativity. It’s a character portrait of Margo, with all her insecurities and psychological issues. But also a path forward to getting your creative muscle working again. That process takes the form of a musical mostly, but sometimes an experimental horror film, or a TV program painting the profile of an artist. It benefits a lot from Simos Sarketzis’ in-the-moment camera and poetic lighting, and it also tries a lot of different methods, like stop-motion for example. These elements bring together Margo’s fragmented state of mind on screen, and it’s as hectic as her thoughts, accompanied by a score (or a set of songs) almost the entire time. There are virtually no silent moments, except when the silence needs to be accentuated by itself and for its full effect.
The actress Sofia Kokkali and Voulgaris have worked on several projects before (Thread, Winona, Polydroso) and it pays off, since her performance is the bearer of the film both emotionally and physically; it’s a part which carries both these elements. Intimate scenes revealing Margo’s inner world, and fuel for nightmares literally coming out of her insides. One could say it’s all a bit too much. Yes, Voulgaris’ approach can be quite maximalist at times, but I believe there’s no such thing as ‘too much’ in a creative process.