Nina Roza

When Mikhail (the superb Galin Stoev), an art dealer and critic living in Montreal, decides to return to his home country of Bulgaria, he doesn’t realise that life already has plans for him. The purpose of his journey is simple: he needs to authenticate the art of an eight-year-old girl, Nina. Art patrons want to make a star out of her. But, as we learn, she doesn’t want to be exposed. Despite the poverty and the absence of a father at home, Nina feels empowered. Art gives her freedom, and now some people want to steal it from her.

Nina Roza is a surprisingly comforting and touching story. It’s not only a meditation on art, but also on family and life in general. Mikhail recalls JL Carr’s Tom Birkin, the protagonist of A Month in the Country, who, influenced by the church, the people and the countryside where he resides, reinvents himself and begins to see life from a new perspective. He reflects on his daughter, whom he left in Canada, and remembers his late wife.

Perhaps the most compelling scene is when Mikhail decides to visit his sister, whom he “left” in Bulgaria and has not seen for 28 years. It was his way of leaving everything behind, from soul-stirring memories of his late wife to his daughter’s childhood, disrupted by death. Although his sister has not truly forgiven him, they need this reunion. Sometimes such things feel written in the air, waiting to be unveiled.

Although Nina Roza could easily have been a short film, focusing either on family or on the young girl’s art, Geneviève Dulude-de Celles thoughtfully interweaves these two worlds. In Nina, Mikhail sees his own daughter, Roza, whom he forced to move and start anew. In doing so, he imposed on her a new reality – one stripped of memories of her mother, Bulgaria and her former identity.

The small girl from this almost outlandish village now seems destined for the same fate as his daughter. Celles’s drama becomes a film about second chances and new beginnings. It is up to Mikhail to decide whether to intervene – and admit he was wrong – or to retreat and remain impartial, potentially altering Nina’s life forever. We root for him, hoping this journey will prove cathartic rather than tragic.