Mariáš

In 1971, a quiet drama unfolds around a handful of lives tethered by memory, mistrust, and fragile loyalties. In a small town edged by fading traditions, a retired card dealer and a cluster of neighbors navigate personal secrets that surface during a tense, improvised gathering. As old resentments rise and new bonds form, characters confront what they owe to one another and what they must leave behind. A meditation on chance, fate, and the stubborn stubbornness of community, it moves with quiet intensity, letting each gesture and glance reveal more than words.