In Saša Vajda’s film, “The Lights, They Fall,” grief takes center stage but is shown through avoidance rather than confrontation. Sixteen-year-old Ilay (Mohammed Yassin Ben Majdouba) roams the outskirts of Berlin. His mother, Maria (Mahira Hakberdieva), is slowly dying offscreen. Most of the story unfolds while she is cared for by Ana (Flor Prieto Catemaxca), a Mexican nurse. The film captures Ilay’s struggle to accept his mother’s fate without using words or dramatic breakdowns. Instead, we see him constantly on the move, trying to outrun the inevitable.
Ilay fills his days working at a logistics center and engaging in community service, planting trees. He even pawns his belongings, like smartphones and a gold watch. During the day, he hangs out with friends by a lake, appearing social yet emotionally distant. At night, he aimlessly wanders the city, feeling more like a ghost than a teenager. The film’s camera often lingers in empty spaces, highlighting the stillness surrounding Ilay as he grapples with his emotions.
Ilay’s detachment is mirrored in his surroundings. At one point, he visits a pawn shop filled with clocks labeled for cities around the world—Tokyo, Dubai, and Berlin. Ironically, the clock for Berlin is missing. This visual joke emphasizes Ilay’s perception of time; for him, it feels unmeasurable and irrelevant. Instead of living, he finds himself waiting, pushing through a life that feels stagnant. Planes take off outside the logistics center, symbolizing opportunities just beyond his reach.
Yet, small moments of kindness punctuate Ilay’s loneliness. For example, when he tries to buy a sandwich but lacks enough money, the vendor allows him to take it for free. His friends, in their own awkward ways, try to support him. Ana, the nurse, represents a type of care that highlights the struggles of caregivers—they too have their battles.
Ilay’s actions sometimes turn impulsive. One night, he steals a dog, not out of malice but as a misguided attempt for connection. As his mother’s death looms, it shifts from a certainty to something more enigmatic, a puzzle he tries to solve rather than accept.
The film immerses viewers in Ilay’s vacant emotional state. Its slow pacing creates a sense of empathy but can also leave viewers feeling lost, striving for a narrative urgency that is often absent. What starts as a minimalist portrayal of grief can feel underdeveloped as the plot seldom shifts gears.
This depiction of grief resonates in today’s society, especially considering studies showing that young adults increasingly face mental health challenges amid loss. According to the World Health Organization, nearly 1 in 6 people aged 10 to 19 experience a mental health condition, making stories like Ilay’s more relevant than ever (WHO, 2022). Grief manifests differently for everyone, and “The Lights, They Fall” pushes us to reflect on the complexities of acceptance and emotional turmoil.
While the film’s contemplative style and themes tackle important issues, it challenges us to consider how we process grief and find connection amidst despair.
