A note on ΠΑΤΕΡΑΠΑΤΕΡΑ
by Evagoras Vanezis (curator, writer)
In 2011, the film ΠΑΤΕΡΑΠΑΤΕΡΑ was shot in Mr. Pavlos Kyriacou’s garage. It is structured with three main components: the recording of humorous stories told by Mr. Pavlos, glimpses into the bond with his hunting dog, Rocky, and cinematic renditions of everyday moments in and around the garage. Neither strictly a documentary nor a fiction film, it is rather an exercise in observation, unfolding manifold ways of relating to this space. Through a fragmented narrative, it captures situations and objects while weaving in interspersed shots of animated drawings.
In the opening minutes, we see the protagonist in the small office conversing with someone off-camera, likely seated across from him—his unwavering gaze in a straight line suggests as much. He tells an anecdote about the fabled “Yiorkos tis Kakas”, that concludes with a burst of laughter. As the film progresses, he recounts more stories featuring urban legends that encapsulate the spirit of a society in constant flux. Regarding the laughter that arises when such stories are shared, particularly in workspaces, such as the garage, Harvard Medical School professor Carl Marci notes: “Laughter is a social signal between people. It’s like punctuation. Sometimes, in the middle of a stressful day, it’s helpful to be the exclamation point.”
The camera lingers on details: work shoes, reading glasses, eyes narrowing as the glasses are removed, a closed notebook. These “unproductive” moments set the dynamic rhythm of the film—pauses, laughter, blurred vision. A phone call reveals that Rocky, the second protagonist, suffers from a toothache. Treating it becomes a choreography of relief; his friend, Mr. Pavlos, rubs his gums, and the dog briefly relaxes. The discovery of the scientific word for ticks, κρότωνες (krotones), read out from a collar’s box, causes surprise with its resonant sound. It is complemented by a flashing image, a pencil drawing of a tick. The storytelling is further accentuated by a continuous alternation of images featuring marker-drawn shapes dancing, shifting, and gradually transforming into tools, structures, and objects. These evolving forms reinforce the passage of time and the film’s fluid relationship between observation and imagination: like whispers into how things can become otherwise.
The narrative fragmentation and cinematic composition evoke a utopian trace—an invitation to reconsider how we relate to time, memory, and the spaces that shape us whilst we shape them. They create a necessary rupture in the rigid state of the present, which is often structured to legitimize and reinforce dominant cultural narratives. By emphasizing pauses, oral histories, and seemingly mundane gestures, the film disrupts the expectation of seamless productivity and linear storytelling. It highlights the importance of attentiveness—of seeing and listening differently—challenging the ways we inhabit and perceive space, making room for ambiguity, humor, and reflection.
ΠΑΤΕΡΑΠΑΤΕΡΑ / 00:09:11