Flesh, Blood, Even a Heart
The difference between a Barbie doll and a 30-something is that nothing bad happens to the toy when you throw it to the ground.
The difference between a Barbie doll and a 30-something is that nothing bad happens to the toy when you throw it to the ground. You can also more easily pull the legs off a doll, Liv’s (Ieva Segliņa) new stepdaughter informs her. The twisted insight is one only a kid can have, but it also nails the emotional labour of an existential crisis. The translated title of Alise Zariņa’s new film, Flesh, Blood, Even a Heart, summarises this interaction with a triad of distinguishing qualities between human and toy. It’s the “heart” part that Zariņa’s feature tugs on the most.
When we are young, our first breakups and best friend drama carry the weight of the world. They feel so much bigger than they are. Flesh, Blood, Even a Heart admits that the small things never stop feeling so important. Life is nothing but small things. For Liv, body insecurity, a lack of intimacy with her husband, confusing instructions from a hospital receptionist, and even a broken washing machine bring back her inner child. The world feels like it stops when an existential crisis starts, and that doesn’t change whether you’re a prepubescent girl or a mid-career woman.
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