Life and love in Juraj Lehotský’s vision of blindness. By STEVE GARDEN.

LOVE IS FAR from blind in Juraj Lehotský’s assured feature debut, Blind Loves (Slepé lásky). The film is ostensibly a documentary about a small number of visually impaired people grappling with life and love. But Lehotský seamlessly incorporates a fictional layer into the mix that results in a work of rare honesty, intimacy and poetry. The cast (who are either completely or partially blind) essentially play themselves, and the clarity with which they ‘see’ things leaves no room for the pleading sentimentalism that can often mar films about disability. The teasing uncertainty as to what is and isn’t staged is only one aspect of the film’s thought-provoking appeal. Differences between sighted and unsighted perceptions are beautifully conveyed throughout the film, as in one particular (and quite unexpected) sequence involving a giant squid. That Lehotský manages to pull this scene off without disturbing the naturalistic restraint of the work testifies to his impressive directorial skill.

Formally, Blind Loves has an understated (but very approachable) rigour that is never forced or dryly austere. It’s reminiscent of the stark humanism of Austrian filmmaker, Ulrich Seidl, but without any of Seidl’s bleak or corrosive tendencies (which of course have their own irrepressible ‘charms’). Lehotský’s affection and admiration for the people in his film is without doubt, but he stays clear of any calculated appeal to the emotions. One might also discern similarities with György Pálfi’s Hukkle (2002), or the muted naturalism of Valeska Grisebach’s Longing (2006), but such comparisons could be misleading. Blind Loves is very much its own thing, and is sure to be appreciated by casual filmgoers and connoisseurs alike. If this film is a measure of what we can expect from this year’s line-up, we could be in for an exceptional fortnight.