Imagine a film that uses the absurdity of a hunger strike during a Soviet occupation to explore the complex motivations behind collective action. That’s exactly what Lithuanian writer-director Karolis Kaupinis does in his latest film, Hunger Strike Breakfast, a thought-provoking cinematic metaphor for the Russian invasion of Ukraine. But here's where it gets controversial: while the film is rooted in the real-life events of the 1991 Soviet invasion of Lithuania, it delves into the murky waters of personal motivations, questioning whether grand political ideals or hidden personal desires truly drive people to act. This isn’t just a historical drama—it’s a mirror held up to society, challenging us to examine the complexities of resistance, solidarity, and the 'occupation of the mind.'
Set in the aftermath of the January 1991 invasion, when Soviet troops seized the Lithuanian Radio & TV headquarters in Vilnius, the film follows a group of employees suddenly stripped of their roles. And this is the part most people miss: amidst the chaos, the characters’ struggles aren’t just about political freedom—they’re about loneliness, fear, and the desperate need for human connection. Mykolas, once a director, now questions the cost of his principles. Daiva, a beloved announcer, resists despite her exhaustion. Sigis, a young actor, wants to help but worries about his newborn child. These characters, inspired by real people, reveal the deeply personal stories behind collective action.
Kaupinis, whose debut film Nova Lituania was Lithuania’s 2021 Oscar submission, draws from his own memories of the invasion. ‘The night of January 13, 1991, is one of my earliest visual memories,’ he told The Hollywood Reporter. ‘I was four years old, and certain details are still vivid.’ His conversations with former TV employees who participated in a months-long hunger strike revealed surprising truths. ‘They’d talk about freedom and independence, but dig deeper, and you’d find personal motivations—like wanting to spend time with a colleague or escaping a miserable home life,’ Kaupinis explained. This duality—political ideals masking personal struggles—becomes a powerful symbol of the film’s theme: the colonization of the mind, where true desires are silenced.
But here’s the bold question: How does Lithuania’s failed invasion in 1991 parallel Russia’s ongoing war in Ukraine? Kaupinis sees his film as a metaphor for Baltic societies today—caught between destruction and indifference, yearning to act but constrained by circumstance. ‘The TV headquarters represent Ukraine, the apartment building across the street is Western Europe, and the trailer where the strike takes place? That’s the Baltics—waiting, hoping, but limited,’ he said. Originally, Kaupinis planned to focus on Soviet propaganda efforts, but the Ukraine invasion shifted his focus to the strikers themselves, whose stories became the heart of the film.
Starring Ineta Stasiulytė, Arvydas Dapsys, and Paulius Pinigis, Hunger Strike Breakfast premiered at the Warsaw Film Festival and competed at the Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival (PÖFF). Produced by Lithuania’s M-Films, with co-production support from the Czech Republic’s Background Films and Latvia’s Tasse Film, the film is a testament to the power of storytelling in exploring historical and contemporary struggles.
And this is where it gets even more thought-provoking: Kaupinis doesn’t shy away from controversy in his own life. He’s protested against Lithuania’s current ruling coalition, which includes the pro-Russia Nemunas Dawn Party, a group he believes is influenced by Moscow. ‘We see Moscow’s hand in it,’ he warned, drawing a direct line between past and present political struggles.
So, what’s next for Kaupinis? A film about a monastery in provincial Lithuania, where division mirrors societal fragmentation. ‘I’ve spoken to priests, and they say it’s just like society—why expect the church to be different?’ he challenged. This filmmaker isn’t just telling stories; he’s sparking conversations. What do you think? Is collective action driven by grand ideals or personal desires? And how do we resist the 'occupation of the mind' in our own lives? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s keep the dialogue going.
