The world is still coming to terms with life under the coronavirus, which has been unsparing in the lives it has taken, devastated the global economy, and completely ruptured the fabric of our everyday lives. But as the curve gets flattened, there are concerns that we could be facing an unprecedented mental health crisis, with the outcome of cumulative days of anxiety, depression, and stress manifesting we may not expect. Dea Gjinovci’s intriguing and tender “Wake Up On Mars” may not have the answer, but it does offer a window into what the mind and body are capable of when faced with a depth of trauma it simply cannot handle.
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The documentary unravels the story of Djeneta and Ibadeta Demiri, 16 and 17-year-old sisters who have both lapsed into years-long comas. Known as “resignation syndrome,” the relatively new disassociative state is commonly found in the children of refugees, who facing hopelessness or the possibility of returning to their previous lives, completely regress into catatonia. The profile perfectly fits the Demiris. The Roma family first arrived in Sweden from Kosovo in 2007, fleeing persecution as Muslims. Deported in 2010, they returned in 2014, where their applications for residency were twice more denied. When the film picks up with them, the Demiris are navigating their final appeal, while trying to forge a future in Sweden, as Muharrem and Nurje keep careful watch over their daughters.
Watching this all unfold is Furkan, the family’s youngest, and who Gjinovci utilizes as the window into the day to day lives of their Demiris. The sensitive boy has vague memories of their previous life in Kosovo, but enough to know that Djeneta witnessed an incident involving him, that marked the first step toward her current state. Furkan heartbreakingly shoulders the blame, remembering the close-knit relationship between himself, his sisters, and his older brother Resul before their lives were changed.
The director unobtrusively steps into Demiris world, alternating between the care they’re receiving for their daughters, and the steps being taken to gain legal status in Sweden. Gjinovci’s immersive approach works very well, particularly for a documentary that eschews traditional talking-head interviews, relying on news reports to convey necessary information about the syndrome, and the filmmaker’s knack for being a fly on the wall to capture the family’s journey. This leads to moving moments that are organically grown, as the challenges and victories the family share, arrive in unexpected places. Thus, it’s perhaps not a surprise that the least successful tactic is the one that gives “Wake Up on Mars” its name.
Spun off from Furkan’s interest in the planets, Gjinovci creates an entirely fictional, secondary storyline that sees the young boy collecting discarded auto parts to create a rocket that will take him to Mars. The whimsical B plot feels like a discarded story idea from an American indie that never made it to Sundance, and the tone never sits alongside comfortably the stark reality the Demiris are facing. Particularly for a film that already runs under 80 minutes, these unnecessary detours pull us away from the array of main subjects, who are fascinating and open about the unique experience they’re facing, and the resolve they show in a situation that offers little to no firm answers as to when it will end. “Wake Up On Mars” leaves you wanting to spend more time with the Demiris, which makes these, at least thankfully brief segments, all the more distracting.
However, Gjinovci is able to find layers even within the limited parameters of her picture. “Wake Up On Mars” isn’t just a story about medical territory that remains largely uncharted, but also political policies that re-traumatize victims of unfathomable persecution. During the course of filming, Sweden passed legislation making it even more difficult for refugees to claim status in the country. It’s believed that recovery from “resignation syndrome” is tied to those suffering from the disorder detecting hope or optimism in family members around them. Gjinovci’s film quietly argues for the moral responsibility of governments to view families like the Demiris outside the lens of partisan politics, policies, and statistics. A better future doesn’t have to be as distant as Mars, all it requires is a bit more humanity on the little blue planet that we all share. [B]
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