“Do you know who I am?”: Confusion and Loss in Saidin Salkic’s My Heart Bled like Niagara Falls

The cinema of Saidin Salkic may be known to only a handful in the Melbourne film community but that’s no reflection of its complexity, inventiveness and beauty.¹

Self-funded and entirely independent, Salkic writes, edits and directs all his films, and occasionally stars in them. He began making films in 2007 and his cinema is both personal and experimental with a clear set of formal and thematic preoccupations. Themes of paranoia and fear but also hope and connection; horror-infused sound effects and images; stark black and white imagery; incessant use of repetition; and a reliance on editing and pace to build then release tension. Many commentators have interpreted these preoccupations as stemming from Salkic’s traumatic childhood experience of the Bosnian conflict of the ‘90s. Indeed, there are intense sequences in his films that pulsate pure terror, fear and dread, functioning as a form of therapeutic release. 

On the other hand, his films of connection and hope such as Waiting for Sevdah (2017), The Last Days of Loneliness (2021) and Rain falls on a Blossom Tree (2022) are among the most tender and moving Australian films I have seen in recent years. Ultimately, Salkic is a deeply sensitive filmmaker who uses the tools of cinema to create works stylistically attuned to fluctuating states of being and reality. 

Salkic is playful with his film titles, which are often ironic or curious, and this latest film, My Heart Bled Like Niagara Falls, is no exception. There’s the bizarre element of kitschy hyperbole in the simile but also the barely concealed reference to an ocean of pain and suffering. The viewer is instantly intrigued: who is this “My” and what is the source of their intense emotional distress? From the outset, the title provides key clues to the heart and ‘project’ of this film. 

“Something has happened to me”, John Flaus

Set in a hospital-type facility, My Heart Bled… focuses on an elderly man, played by Melbourne film legend and regular Salkic star, John Flaus, who is confined to a sparse, clinical room. Through voice over and spoken dialogue, we learn that the elderly man finds himself in a troubling situation: he is all alone at the end of a long-lived life, feeling imprisoned and isolated. Instead of repose, he experiences an existential crisis: he is unsure of who he is; he cannot remember the key people in his life; and he feels trapped. My Heart Bled… powerfully explores the big questions that lie at the core of identity and the sense of despair and anguish that comes with this loss of self-knowledge. 

As with recent Salkic films that feature Flaus, My Heart Bled… walks a fine line between fiction and reality. In these films, Flaus plays a character afflicted by loss of memory and much of the film’s narrative explores the resulting feelings of disorientation and confusion. As we watch My Heart Bled … we, the audience of Melbourne film-goers, know that Flaus is currently living in an aged-care home and has dementia, which he has had for a few years now. Salkic riffs off of that knowledge; on the one hand, cueing our understanding of the character and the narrative but also adding new layers of meaning, building a fictional world that situates the film conceptually outside both documentary and fiction. One also can’t help but wonder how and to what extent Flaus prepares for a performance in which he plays a man not unlike himself: alone and with a fading memory.  

For most of the film’s 52-minute running time, the elderly man is confined to his armchair. He may be physically restricted, however, he is mentally hyper alert and My Heart Bled … is sensitively attuned to the varied shifts in the elderly man’s mood, temperament and thinking. These various shifts form the key threads that make up the film’s narrative. 

My Heart Bled … begins with Flaus plaintively reflecting on his strange sense of reality and concomitant feelings of imprisonment and loss of freedom. 

Something has happened to me … Something has gripped me … something with slimy hands … I don’t celebrate the sun anymore, I don’t run through the rain. I’m turning into a stone … I am forever frozen in time … unaffected by visions of joy, unexcited by the storm in the distance … memories of my childhood are fading … I cannot run … Time has overtaken me. … I am not free like the sea. I will never be you. And I’m no longer me. 

This opening voice-over, parts of which reappear throughout the film, is accompanied with a montage of images and sounds that underscore the elderly man’s melancholy. They include the external shots of the facility, a sped-up stormy sky, the elderly man cobbling down a hospital corridor in his walking frame and the sounds of crackling thunder and an unsettling hum. Throughout My Heart Bled … Salkic creates a visual and aural cinematic landscape that is keyed to the emotional and psychic landscape of the elderly man. Salkic excels at this kind of cinema, which is one of sensations and abstractions, and in My Heart Bled… this approach allows Salkic to create a complex work that explores states of fragmentation, loss and anguish with disarming sensitivity and humanity. 

Melancholia in My Heart Bled like Niagara Falls

Melancholia in My Heart Bled like Niagara Falls

The elderly man’s feelings of melancholy give way to paranoia as though someone or something was lurking in his immediate environment. This then segues to the next major ‘thread’ or sequence of My Heart Bled…:  the bedroom door that mysteriously opens without anyone ever entering. 

Salkic’s use of repetition in this sequence is highly effective. The following lines are repeated: “There’s someone at my door … but I can’t see them” emphasising the elderly man’s increasing agitation. Accompanying these lines are a set of recurring images and sounds:  a close-up zoom of Flaus’ peering eyes fixed on the door; the eerily self-opening door; the creaky sound each time it opens; the sound of approaching footsteps; shrill screaming; beeping hospital machines. The repetition builds tension through its frantic pace but also draws attention to the constructed nature of cinema itself – the repeated images and sounds become formal abstractions. On the other hand, they also signal the elderly man’s world collapsing in on itself, a dizzying reality that you can never leave or escape. 

The door motif recurs frequently in Salkic’s cinema. It is typically a terrorising object that symbolises an encroaching danger or existential threshold that, if you cross, will scar you for life. In My Heart Bled…, it represents on the one hand, the menacing nature of the elderly man’s physical environment but on the other, it’s also a key reminder of his profound isolation. He comments: 

I am alone … why am I alone? My years have flown by …  blown away each day … one by one  …. they didn’t stay. I stayed … why am I alone? I am a good man …

And then later:

Perhaps someone’s come to visit me but there’s no one there. … I wish to have visitors. I am alone nearly all the time. 

He comes to believe it’s a form of punishment: What sort of reality is this that I have to live here on my own? 

Door ‘sequence’

Door ‘sequence’

As mentioned previously, Salkic is masterful at using the tools of cinema to express states of reality and being. Towards the end of the ‘self-opening door’ thread and after a sequence of fast-paced cutting, the tempo slows right down, allowing Salkic to hold shots of Flaus expressing poses of hurt, disappointment and loss. At the end of this sequence, Flaus comments: “I’m all alone … nearly all the time” evoking finality and resignation.  

This mournful state gives way to rising insanity as the elderly man begins interrogating the door, asking it repeatedly: “Why don’t you ever open?” Moments later, a table with newspapers suddenly starts moving towards him, adding to the theme of insanity. 

Emerging in this early part of the film is also the thread of the elderly man remembering the forgotten identity of once being a Governor General. This in turn helps him understand why he does not receive any visitors: because he has “…blood on [his] hands”. 

After the newspapers suddenly appear, he humorously remarks: “I’ve gotta see if I’m in the papers” and then begins flicking through each page, becoming increasingly agitated and disgruntled when he cannot see himself, thumping the table, and humorously remarking: “There’s so many idiots in the world and most of them seem to appear in the bloody papers! Who’s this weasel? I was the Governor General!”

However, this memory and sense of identity is also slippery and unreliable. At times, questioning himself, at other times, an unknown person on the other end of the phone (could it be an earlier version of himself?), the elderly man wonders:

Was I a General? Where’s my army? Where’s anybody? Look at me now … am I anybody … anything? Please tell me who I am. Tell me for real if I was a Governor General. 

The newspaper sequence

One of the most moving ‘threads’ in My Heart Bled… involves the elderly man’s inability to remember his wife. It begins with a framed photo of a younger version of himself and his wife suddenly appearing before him. At first, Salkic frames the photo from behind so we only see a dark, square object that takes up roughly a third of the frame. The effect is to highlight its strange and menacing presence. Then, Salkic cuts to the elderly man’s point of view and we see the photo of the young couple.  The elderly man remarks:

Isn’t she beautiful. … but who is she? … It must be my wife. … I don’t remember her! … She must be my darling. What’s wrong with my memory.  

He thumps the table with frustration then moans with anguish. Earlier in the film, this table thumping was intercut with the image of exploding land mines. In this sequence, Salkic cuts to a leafy tree shedding its leaves to the wind in order to eloquently evoke the elderly man’s despair. Flaus’ cry for help to remember the love of his life makes this the film’s most moving and most haunting thread.   

This thread gives way to a general sense of grief and despair: “What is this world worth?” and, again, images of exploding mines and abandoned homes. And then to fears of his wife’s betrayal: “How much did she love me? Does she love me? How much? With whom is she … another bloke?” Then, in a further twist, the thread of childhood memories emerges as the elderly man recalls his childhood home and running from exploding bombs in a forest. 

“She must be my darling!”

“She must be my darling!”

In My Heart Bled…’s final ‘thread’, the elderly man remembers that after all he was not a General but an “artist”, and ironically the “greatest artist” who is “on the outside, roaming on my own… free like the sea”.  By the film’s end, the character of the elderly man becomes a composite of Flaus and Salkic – Flaus, the man afflicted with loss of memory, and Salkic, the filmmaker who exists outside the official ‘establishment’ of funded filmmakers. The elderly man finds peace once he remembers his identity as an artist and its bittersweet quality of being on the one hand “on the outside” but on the other “free like the sea”. 

At the core of My Heart Bled… is Flaus’ performance. Facial expressions, full of creases and crinkles, signal despair, confusion or anguish. Gestures such as fists-thumping convey frustration and anger. Wistful gazes signal deep, existential contemplation. Flaus embodies a remarkable range of expressive poses and gestures that are felt by the viewer. But what is most astounding is his vocal range, which heightens the emotional impact and poignancy of this film. Early on, Flaus mixes tones of disbelief and wonder when remarking about his environment: “What a prison this is … Why am I alone?” Later, in another ‘thread’, he utilises a raspy, gruff tone to interrogate the person on the other end of the phone: “Do you know who I am?” or a bellowing tone to convey his hubris: “I should be in the papers… there’s so many idiots in the world and most of them seem to appear in the bloody papers!” As a result of his remarkable range, Flaus is able to pull off moments of side-cracking humour. Towards the end of the film, during the newspaper sequence, he produces the non-sequitur: “I haven’t paid for a pair of pants to wear in 50 years”. There aren’t many performers who can present such juxtaposing personas or temperaments. 

“I am alone”

The Flaus-Salkic collaboration extends over many of Salkic’s recent films and is unique in Australian cinema. It represents a true partnership and trust between artists, with filmmaker and performer co-creating each work. In a recent article, Bill Mousoulis has commented that these films, which clearly constitute Flaus’ last set of performances, fittingly round out a brilliant career that began decades ago.² Flaus and Salkic’s collaboration has spawned a number of truly beautiful films and the psyche-drama, My Heart Bled… is no exception. 

Together, Salkic and Flaus have created a portrait of a flailing, elderly man who has lost his grip on reality. My Heart Bled… is one of the most moving, harrowing films about mental deterioration and existential crisis I have seen, and Salkic proves his cinematic mastery by steering clear of cliché, sentimentalism or clear resolutions. Formally artistic and experimental, he presents layers of meaning and ambiguity and leaves it to the viewer to construct their own interpretations. 

Through Flaus’ one of a kind performance, we feel the heaviness of loss and hurt. And through Salkic’s mesmerising cinema, we feel the dislocation of loss but the beauty and possibility of visual imagery and cinematic expression. 

In the end, My heart Bled … is a masterpiece – cinematically inventive and evocative and fully sensitive to the contradictions, complexities and nuances of a psychologically fragmented character. 

Endnotes