★★☆☆☆ (2.5/5)
In 2019, Lithuanian cinema attempted to capture the lightning-in-a-bottle magic of Federico Moccia’s infamous Italian teen romance Tre metri sopra il cielo with its local adaptation, Trys metrai virš dangaus (Three Meters Above the Sky). Directed by Ramūnas Rudokas, the film transplants the story of forbidden, passionate, and destructive first love from the sun-drenched streets of Rome to modern-day Vilnius. For fans of the original or the 2010 Spanish remake, this version will feel immediately familiar—perhaps too familiar. While it boasts competent cinematography and a game young cast, it struggles to justify its own existence beyond a localized cover version of a song we’ve already heard too many times. filmas trys metrai virs dangaus
The story follows Stepas (Marius Repšys), a rebellious street racer and brawler from the wrong side of the tracks, and Gabrielė (Džiugas Siaurusaitis), a sweet, upper-class photography student who lives by her mother’s rules. After a chance encounter, they collide in every sense of the word. Their relationship is a whirlwind of reckless motorbike rides, forbidden meetings, jealous exes, and the constant threat of violence. The title refers to the couple’s blissful escape—a feeling of being “three meters above the sky” when they are together, untouchable by the world below. Naturally, their paradise is fragile, and tragedy looms. ★★☆☆☆ (2
The soundtrack, while full of earnest Lithuanian pop-rock, leans too heavily on montage sequences. One gets the sense that the director wasn’t sure how to convey emotion without a slow-motion shot and a sad guitar chord. While it boasts competent cinematography and a game
Here is the core problem: Trys metrai virš dangaus is a scene-for-scene remake. If you have seen the Italian original or the Spanish version ( Tres metros sobre el cielo ), you already know every beat, every fight, every kiss, and every heartbreak. The film takes no risks. The dialogue is often stiff, translating Moccia’s melodramatic lines into Lithuanian without any natural flow. Teenagers in Vilnius do not talk like that.
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.