Cast the White Stone (Draft)

The movie started with a lot of laughter as comedic scenes were thrusted at us one by one. A mockumentary, where within the first few moments we realize that the movie is about a missing man – Panos, Panagiotis παναγιώτης. As no one from work had any knowledge of where the man was nor did they care, the search felt hopeless until we got introduced to the mother of Panos. The documentarists have arrived at her apartment, where she opens the door and welcomes the whole crew into her cramped space, yet still wholeheartedly as she misses her son. When asked to introduce herself, she tells us her name: Haroula χαρούλα. Instantly followed by the fact that she has two sons and that the love of her life has passed away. 

When I asked my mother once: “Mami, where would you want to live in the end?” She instantly replied with “Wherever your dad will go, I will follow.” My mother has never had the chance to speak her mind. As the sixth and youngest daughter of the family, she has always been passive, docile and compliant. Having been forced to move across the world into a community which has taken its values of Vietnam at that time, enclosing itself and not integrating into the new environment – Czech Republic, the community is stagnating despite the fact that both, the Czech Republic as well as Vietnam themselves are developing, but thus staying behind as this community is isolating itself. My mother has therefore always just followed the words of our father or her older sisters, our aunties. Having to take care of five children, she could not have a life of her own. Her interactions have consequently only been with her inner circle, where the authority of her husband and sisters control her. 

I want her to have her autonomy. I want her to choose for herself. Asking her again then: “If it were up to you then, where do you want to go mami?” She could not answer since she did not know because she never let herself choose. Asking her then, “If our father was not in the picture, where would you want to go mami?” She, again without hesitation, said: “Wherever you children will be, I will follow.” This parallel of my mother and Haroula broke my heart. They both are wives and mothers before all else; it is all they are – wives and mothers. The pain of Haroula screamed even louder as she was expressing herself as if she were speaking to the audience; the format of the mockumentary breaking the fourth wall made it all more painful. 

The film is a tragicomedy executed to the extent of guiltiest laughter. As we are introduced to Haroula, we instantly hear the shouting of her other son: “Mom I need to shit.” Initially, the whole cinema bursted into laughter as this is such an unusual and comedic situation. Unusual in the most common sense, but not for Haroula. As we enter the living room where her son Lefteris λευτέρης is, we find out that he is wheelchair-bound. There is a  juxtaposition of his name, meaning free, and his state of being with limited autonomy. The film is filled with such moments of comedy, which are instantly followed by moments of clarifications to the extent that reveal the humor to be a burden and pain to another – mainly Haroula. With such instant consequences, one can no longer laugh after some exposures, as the guilt stretches your limits of sadness of the pain Haroula has to go through on a daily basis. She is constantly helping her son physically as he has almost no bodily freedom, as well as sacrificing all her time and mental strength, constantly escorting him wherever he needs to be – the hospital included. 

Her exhaustion and frustration is broken to the audience, especially, when at some point she is unable to physically assist her at some point, where then the audio team of the documentary has to drop the microphone to help her, breaking the whole cinema in complete silence, drawing them in. Despite her constant care for Lefteris, the majority of the dialogues and actions between the mother and son are filled with disregard and disrespect towards the mother, not appreciating her actions; he is taking her for granted. Despite knowing what our mother has sacrificed for all of us, there are still so many moments, where despite knowing that I am hurting her, I still carry on doing so. The sadness she feels even in simple moments as wanting to have dinner together, but Lefteris leaves her to watch football; whenever I am back home in Prague, I have rarely sat together with my parents at the dining table as I am almost always out meeting people. The fights I have with my mother, intentionally saying words that I know will hurt her. Getting angry at things that are not even of importance. 

The only time I can remember that Haroula took for herself, was when a song came on the radio. A song we instantly get drawn into as the music mutes everything else. That solace is however rapidly broken as Lefteris shouts: “Mom I need to shit.” For our mother, us five have been all what her life has revolved around for the past thirty years. There was nothing else except for work, as I remember back in the days, when parents would start working straight after driving us to school and then coming back home from work when we were already asleep. However, we have been trying to push mom to explore more: drawing, painting, generally arts, but mainly gardening. Our garden, which is not what takes up her free time when she has some, has been such a huge relief, at least for me. It is much like another child for her, but one that cannot make her sad and disappointed.

I used to run, at some point every day. I remember that one time when my mom would tell me not to since there was a small storm, but I was determined. It was a way to let my anger out, as I have been told to have to push it down as it was not appropriate for a woman to get angry. It was a moment only I thought I remembered, where I felt acknowledged, as instead of prohibiting me, she ultimately supported me and put a raincoat on me. She remembered it too. Now she started running herself, despite all conditions – be it weather or our fathers comments, she sends her daily progress in the chat. The feeling of having motivated her, to the extent where she tells me that I, or at least the past me, is who she looks up to when she needs the motivation, stirred my feelings in so many ways. I should start running again. 

A character that suddenly intrudes Haroula’s life – Michalis Μιχάλης is a greek black man. He is a taxi driver who takes pity on the mother and helps her with finding her son. As Haroula is racist, her initial interactions with Michalis are negative and neglecting, whilst Lefteris has accepted him as his brother. Michalis, as a man who misses his family, recognizes the pain Haroula is going through with her missing son Panos. Despite her hostile behavior then, he still proceeds to help and support her. Through such, Michalis’ presence becomes uplifting where she then changes mind on his intrusion as such no longer. The cognitive dissonance has truly changed her beliefs. 

This acceptance turns bittersweet as we find out the reason for Panos’ disappearance is him seeking freedom to love a black woman, knowing his mother was racist. To seek the freedom due to the unacceptance of a loved one is to confront the painful reality that love can sometimes necessitate breaking away from those who should love us unconditionally. As egocentric as I can be, this epiphany has evoked such resemblance in me in regards to my own mother; coming out to my mother as queer.

My mother has grown up with heteronormative settings, where any concept deviating from such is so unfeasible. Any initial mention of such she dismissed. Any attempt at an explanation from me, she disregarded. Any effort of communication I try is only met with disdain. The distance this has put between me and her has affected our relationship to the extent where I no longer am sure about whether or not it can ever be the same. The silence in which we hold hands, it is no longer serene as it used to be, but rather loud. I do not blame her. Knowing how she grew up, this is understandable; despite such, it is excruciating. 

When Haroula finally finds her son, we see her enter his new apartment, this is it and nothing more. Afterwards, she flees with distress, even ignoring and neglecting Lefteris as he pants and chases her, or at least attempts to while he fails and falls onto the ground, fully crumbling down. Haroula, nevertheless, keeps on walking away. In this moment, she truly breaks free and liberates herself from her burden, fully embracing solitude, adrift in the echo chamber of her own. Her mind is now, however, broken as she cannot accept Panos and dissociates Michalis as her new son. 

The most painful part of the story is that only after Haroula dies, can the family sit together at the dining table, sharing a meal, where the portrayal of this scene is executed with elements of ecstasy. Could Haroula’s love be considered as an obsession? The boys’ lives are ultimately their own, yet without her Lefteris is left vulnerable and helpless; whereas Panos is liberated and autonomous. Afterall, her fixation is what drove him away. 

I resorted to abstinence as I could not bear how with every call home, my mother’s voice would break, how her expression changed, when she would withdraw as I would try to confront her. Will this only put me further adrift from her? The misery she experiences is something I do not want to cause, yet if I do continue, the inevitable outcome will only mirror Panos’. Can I then change her mind about it? All I know is that I love my mother and I want to be by her side and what Panos did is something that I will never do, but what she wants me to do will only drift us apart. I am so sorry about all the pain I am about to cause, but I only see this as an only option for me to be by your side everlastingly.

Con sẽ luôn bên mẹ.