Potlatch (1987)

Twelve years after that horrible airplane crash into the sea, Aphrodite, a 14-year-old French girl and the only survivor of that tragedy, is still haunting Aris' mind, a self-destructive symphonic composer on the verge of a profound existential crisis. As a result, Aris determined to put an end to his ordeal, he will attempt to commit suicide, however, his yearning for the distant girl on the front page of the newspapers will tempt him to give himself another chance. Evidently, when you are in the stage of apathy, you've already gone too far, yet, the only solution that would keep Aris alive, is to be offered by the very lips of his Aphrodite, a sole word by midnight on his forthcoming birthday which approaches in less than a month. What could be this very personal word that is worth living and dying for, and deserves a journey to France which would finally bring the desperate composer closer to the dreamy siren? As the days pass by swiftly and Aphrodite is still reluctant to say the word, Aris, the narcissist with the empty eyes who is willing to put himself against fate and exchange his life for a single word, will silently surrender reducing himself to a secret sacrificial offering. Can one find passion with a method?