KIX: Fragments of a boyhood

A long chalk trail on the asphalt, like a sign on the streets of Budapest saying ‘I exist too’. Hoarse voices, the edges of the streets as a refuge, reluctant philosophies of life. Shaky and almost neurotic camera movements. Restless editing. Lurid photography. Outspoken and sometimes outright foul conversations. The trail keeps going, until it reaches a young boy tracing it on the sidewalk.

It's easy to see how Dávid Mikulán and Bálint Révész’s urban tale might have won the attention of many festivals and a network like HBO, a symbol of quality content and fresh approaches. While the story behind the documentary is almost as rich and interesting as what’s presented in front of the screen, KIX wastes no time and pulls no punches in its choice of subject matter. This is no typical portrait, and its main character is not a regular Hungarian kid.

This is young Sanyi’s fragmentary world, as captured by Dávid Mikulán’s hand held camera. Sanyi, his brother Viktor and their friends form a small tribe of street kids. Their story begins in the shadows of the middle-upper city: the streets are full of struggling families and homeless people, while the looming figure of the Prime Minister’s voice and presence remind us of an alternative, elitist reality portrayed in bombastic institutional communications. Sanyi doesn't necessarily think about building a future. His world consists of the small, struggling family’s nest, the streets and his friends, the small adventures and Huckleberry Finn-esque forays into the shadows of abandoned buildings and Boráros square. But the years in Budapest’s shadow see him grow into a restless, rebellious teenager. A sister is born, the family is balanced through precariousness, new love and friends are found.

While Sanyi grows and tries to evolve, Dávid Mikulán and Bálint Révész’s chronicle evolves as well. Their project has been shot over ten years, a decade, in which not only the protagonists, but the authors themselves, have grown too. It’s quite uncommon to see a young filmmaker’s approach change over the course of 94 minutes, but that’s what happens here. The underground sensibility of childhood gradually leads to steadier camera angles and a more mature cinematic form. For better or worse, this evolution in real time is what makes KIX so fascinating.

An anti-romantic look on youth, growth and coming to terms with your responsibilities as an adult, Mikulán and Révész’s work is as well an unconventional coming of age story. The duo manages to accomplish an uneasy balance between respect towards their subject and earnestness, at its best when the film’s antiheroes allow themselves to show their dry humor and their concrete no-nonsense life philosophy. A raw honesty that suffers the most whiplash tonally as their lives change, verging more and more into personal tragedy. It’s an inevitable whiplash, as real life people come and go outside of the story. Sanyi transitions from childhood to teenager as the film continues to capture life’s inevitable and unexpected turning points and changes.

KIX is a living, breathing contradiction; a film whose narrative shortcomings act as a testament of its dedication to sincerity without filtres.

Valentino Feltrin