The film’s title somehow promises a metaphysical or philosophical exploration of the themes of time and transience, but ultimately doesn’t live up to that promise. Which is okay as it’s got other merits. The film opens with an impressive opening scene of a farmer driving his horse-drawn cart down a road at walking pace (taken from the film »Kalte Heimat«), which, in the patience of this shot, is almost reminiscent of Béla Tarr. Also the fact that Koepp weaves together footage from different periods of his career here, juxtaposing excerpts and unused footage from earlier film projects, and reunites with people he has visited before (such as Mrs Zuckermann from »Herr Zwilling und Frau Zuckermann« or a former student from Chernivtsi who now lives in Germany) does make it a reflection on the passing of time.
»Chronos« is, however, not quite »Voci nel tempo«. Much of the film is not metaphysical, but does make very specific references to the war in Ukraine, Transnistria’s gradual secession from the Republic of Moldova, and Russian imperialism, particularly that of the Putin era. The interviews on those topics are insightful and enlightening, offering glimpses into the lives of people from Moldova, Ukraine and Russia affected by Russian imperialism – people who are otherwise quickly overlooked in daily news coverage. The longing for peace, but also the despondency in the face of the political situation and the realisation that what was once a homeland is now irrevocably lost, are deeply moving.
However, some of the interviews do give one pause for thought: Why Anetta Kahane was given so much screen time can perhaps only be explained by personal sympathy. I mean, her achievements in founding the Amadeu Antonio Foundation should not be downplayed here. Yet her contributions do not exactly cover herself in glory, like when she flat-out accuses the intersectionalist left of having a blanket blind spot regarding anti-Semitism. (As the interview presumably took place relatively soon after 7 October 2023, one can understand a certain agitation or emotional turmoil on her part, and it was perhaps not the time for a nuanced view of how to approach the Israel-Paleste conflict. Although, as a relative of Viktor Klemperer and having read his diaries, she may well have given the subject some more thought than what comes across in her words here). Nevertheless, the question then arises as to why Koepp felt it would benefit the film to give so much space to Kahane’s platitudes on the resurgence of anti-Semitism. And I’m in no way trying to deny that issue, but am wondering whether there might not have been other voices that could have contributed more here and with less flurry.
Overall, however the lengthy interview sections are telling stories about fleeing one’s home and starting new lives worth to be heard. The filmmaking strategy of collaging various visual and film materials – black-and-white footage from early Koepp films, grainy outtakes from his colour films, mobile phone footage and interview footage in a contemporary documentary style – also juxtaposes different styles of filmmaking and various visual aesthetics, thereby highlighting how historical narratives and views change over time. It’s a long film, maybe too long, but there are lessons of compassion in there, which make it worth a watch.