Perla (Alexandra Makarová, 2025): Australia | Slovakia

Reviewed by Veronika Sykackova. Viewed at the Santa Barbara International Festival.

I watched Perla at its festival screening and I have to say that it really stuck with me. Alexandra Makarová created a movie that’s quiet but emotionally intense, focusing on a woman trying to build a life in exile while being haunted by her past. For me, as a Czech living in the United States, the story felt especially personal and culturally rich. It shows a perspective of life under the Iron Curtain and what it means to leave home behind.

The film centers on Perla Adamová, a Slovak painter living in Vienna in the early 1980s with her daughter Julia. In the first part of the film, we see her living pretty stable life. She paints and prepares for her first solo exhibition in New York, while Julia is a talented child who dreams of becoming a pianist (and probably a singer too). Perla is also in a romantic relationship with Josef, an Austrian man who supports them emotionally and financially. They are married and seem to have a happy, prosperous life. However, the tension is already present. You can sense Perla carrying memories of her past. She is portrayed as quiet and introspective, carrying the weight of her history alone.

The story truly develops when Andrej, Julia’s father, is released from prison in Slovakia, arrested likely for political reasons. He calls Perla and while she is initially unhappy, it is clear she still has feelings for him. His sudden reappearance forces Perla to confront trauma she has long avoided and disrupts the stability she has built. It is shown through silences, Perla’s art, interactions with Julia and even how she defiantly eats in a Slovak cafeteria as if resisting rationing rules. These details give the film its emotional depth. Julia and Perla are not the closest, but Julia immediately notices when Perla picks up the phone and Andrej is calling. Even at a young age, she understands the significance of her biological father’s presence. To protect herself and her daughter, Perla has been using a false identity in Vienna, pretending to be Austrian. Which makes it complicated when Perla and her family travels back to her home country, the Czechoslovakia.

Visually, the film is striking. The cinematography uses static shots and muted colors, creating a feeling of confinement that mirrors Perla’s internal state. The camera often observes from a distance, letting the actors carry the story, very typical for Slavic cinema. Music is used sparingly and ambient sounds often give the scenes more power than a traditional score would. The sets and costumes convincingly recreate early 1980s Vienna and Czechoslovakia and the attention to detail really made me feel like I was stepping into that world. One moment I particularly loved was when Perla orders a lot of food at a restaurant upon returning home. It was both funny and poignant, highlighting how much she misses her homeland.

Rebeka Poláková’s, the main actor, performance is remarkable. She doesn’t “act” in a traditional way. She becomes Perla. At times, Perla is hard to understand and some of her decisions are frustrating, but that only makes her feel more real. Her character is complex, reflecting traits often associated with Slovak women, stubborn but resilient, mostly captured smoking cigarette. The supporting cast is also strong and the relationships feel authentic, especially between Perla, Julia and the men in her life. I particularly admired Josef, who remains steadfastly supportive, demonstrating his love for Perla. Showing her a secure love.

If I had to point out some weaknesses, the film sometimes seems unsure whether to focus on politics, art, family or the love triangle, which can be a bit confusing. Coming from the Czech culture, I understood the context, but I wondered if some American viewers in the audience might have found it harder to follow. Perla might seem cold or distant to those unfamiliar with the nuances of her cultural background. Some scenes, like her extended stay for her parents’ urns or her renewed intimacy with Andrej, might have been shorter for clarity without losing emotional impact. A little additional context or explanation about Czechoslovakia and Austria in the 1980s could help international audiences. Capture more what’s happening inside Perla’s mind. Still, these are minor issues that don’t diminish the film’s emotional power.

In the end, Perla is a film I think people should see if they are interested in intimate, culturally specific stories about exile, trauma and identity. I see it as an important film for Czech and Slovak history, as it captures personal and cultural behavior shaped by that era. It may be slow and emotionally heavy for some, but it is worth experiencing Perla’s journey. As someone who grew up Czech but lives in the United States now, I appreciated how the film presented a history I know personally, while still making it universal and relatable. I also wonder if it is based on a real story. Alexandra Makarová wrote that this movie was for her grandmother, I keep wondering if Perla is her grandmother and Perla’s daughter her mom. But we can just keep wondering….