Where the film succeeds is in its visual identity. Cinematographer Narvydas Naujokas makes Vilnius feel moody, romantic, and gritty all at once. The nighttime street races, the cobblestones of Užupis, and the melancholic rain-soaked alleys give the story a distinct sense of place. It’s refreshing to see a Lithuanian commercial film that doesn’t shy away from urban grit.
At nearly two hours, the film drags. The middle section is a repetitive loop: they fight, they make up, they ride the motorbike, someone gets jealous, repeat. The supporting characters are cardboard cutouts—the jealous rich ex-boyfriend (Rokas) has no depth, Gabrielė’s mother is a one-note villain, and Stepas’s street crew are indistinguishable from any other generic movie gang. filmas trys metrai virs dangaus
Trys metrai virš dangaus is not a bad film so much as an unnecessary one. It is a dutiful, technically adequate translation of a foreign hit that has already aged poorly. For Lithuanian audiences who grew up reading Moccia’s books or who want to see local actors in a glossy production, there is a certain nostalgic comfort to be found. But for anyone looking for a fresh, thoughtful take on young love, reckless behavior, and class divide, this film offers nothing new. Where the film succeeds is in its visual identity
Wait for TV. If you are a sucker for 2000s-style bad-boy romances and have never seen the original, you might enjoy the ride. Everyone else should steer clear. It’s refreshing to see a Lithuanian commercial film