Varianta în limba română poate fi accesată aici / The Romanian version can be accesed here: agenda.liternet.ro/30436/Oana-Balaci/Negru-ca-moartea-si-gros-ca-sangele-Traeer-Malet-i-Tjaere-Trees-Painted-in-Tar-la-Festivalul-European-de-Film-Palic-2025
Short films have a powerful way of conveying profound messages. With their concise structure, they oftentimes seem to encapsulate meanings that most feature films don't even scratch the surface of. "Strong essences are kept in small bottles" after all. This is the case with Træer Malet i Tjære / Trees Painted in Tar, the latest short directed by Casper Rudolf Emil Kjeldsen and written by Michael Kunov.
Known for Det er i Jorden / In the Soil (2021), which follows the strained relationship between a teenage girl and her father and competed for the short films' Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival, the Danish director returns to the topic of children's complex interaction with their parents. Træer Malet i Tjære / Trees Painted in Tar is screened at the 32nd European Film Festival Palić and explores the internal conflict of a son during a hunting trip with his father. While this practice has become a tradition for some of the men, especially since the invasion of hogs in Denmark, the young boy seems to participate only in search for his paternal figure's approval.
The film debuts with literally the title put into images: members of the group are painting some tree trucks with tar. The focus shifts on the protagonist's contemplative and subtly frightened expression when he realizes insects are getting caught in the sticky liquid, unable to escape. Dark as death and thick as blood, this substance traps the beings mercilessly, anticipating most of the future unsettling action. The thrill of the kill, similar with the one present in William Golding's Lord of the Flies, seems to have a hold on the father and his friends.
They declare war on the "beasts". It's hunter versus prey, and the protagonist becomes caught in the crossfire - just like the helpless insects - once a bucket filled with blood is thrown in his face. Blood and tar have the same color in the dark anyway. An almost invisible parallel is drawn between hunting and genocide around the world, with the superior party slaughtering the other based on subjective criteria, just like in the episode Men Against Fire from Black Mirror. We are the protagonist, watching paralyzed as the tragedy unfolds in front of our eyes. How long until we choose to act? And how should we act?
An ominous feeling settles in, facilitated by the night vision shots and the zoom-ins/zoom-outs of cinematographer Tobias Scavenius, as well as the bullet-like music composed by Andreas Kildedal Westmark. Chromatically, Sofie Bonde Lenau's production design thrives on tones of green and red, two complementary colors which symbolize trees and blood, respectively. This also leads to questions about the destruction caused to nature by human interference. How much do we afford to change just because we are the "superior" species?
"His Kingdom is vast" sings the boy as a response to the hunters' song, a warning that actions have consequences and a greater force will eventually take care of the karmic payoff. Cruelty and hatred only nurture the same sentiments, and the boomerang effect will hit harder than expected.
