The Year of the Everlasting Storm

In retrospect, the title might actually have been optimistic. Billed as a “love letter to cinema” and featuring seven well-regarded directors from across the globe, The Year of the Everlasting Storm brings together seven stories set and shot during the Covid-19 pandemic, mostly in the year of 2020. At times joyous, ponderous, profound, and even frustrating, the film invites its audience to reflect on the pandemic’s toll on our lives, but also on how life has, mostly, gone on much as it did before (for better or worse).

The film’s stories are compact, but far from perfunctory. A lizard and a grandmother find peace amid the afterglow of new life (Life, Jafar Panâhi), a young family struggles to adjust to life in quarantine (The Break Away, Anthony Chen), a father stays connected with his young children over video chat (Little Measures, Malik Vitthal), a surveillance company’s attempts to disrupt and destabilise the lives of journalists are documented (Terror Contagion, Laura Poitras), a mother records her choir parts and visits her daughter’s newborn child from afar (Sin Título, Dominga Sotomayor), a box of letters leads to an encounter with the past (Dig Up My Darling, David Lowery), and a white bedsheet provides the backdrop for a swarm of insects (Night Colonies, Apichatpong Weerasethakul). Seven stories diverging from a single, tragic, source, depicting the diversity of human experience, but also underscoring our fundamental, shared, humanity.

The ’90s saw an increased cultural fascination with chaos theory (colloquially, “the butterfly effect”), in particular its focus on how small changes in the initial conditions of a complex system can produce large and unpredictable differences in its resultant state. The famous “butterfly flapping its wings” metaphor seemed to catch on not only because of its inherent provocativeness but because the world was becoming vastly and irreversibly interconnected—suddenly, we could appreciate how seemingly minor events in one region might have massive impacts around the globe.

That’s what makes The Year of the Everlasting Storm important. The Covid-19 pandemic has impacted the lives of every person on the planet, an experience unique in human history that should have forced the realisation that, despite our differences, we all come from the same flesh and blood. But the 2020 pandemic was just a warm up for the climate disasters coming in our lifetimes. Unless we recognise our shared fate soon, we may end up ceding the planet back to the primeval creatures that preceded us.

It’s fitting, then, that the film begins and ends with creatures (lizards and insects specifically) that once ruled the earth in our absence. However, the two segments are decidedly different in their outlook. In Panâhi’s Life, humanity reconciles with the natural world; but in Weerasethakul’s Night Colonies, only the vestiges of humanity remain. Between these options are five tales of human resilience and hope, emphasising that the choices that will determine our fate are ours and ours alone.

The Year of the Everlasting Storm premiered in Cannes and it will show in UK cinemas soon. Stay tuned for the date.

Memoria

With Memoria, Thai legend Apichatpong Weerasethakul is basically trying to do the impossible: use the cinematic form to depict the vibrating, mysterious connection between all human beings. A dreamy, strange, addictive and loopy dream-like journey through Medellin and the Colombian jungle, his first non-Thai film is the best film of the year.

Tilda Swinton, the patron saint of all things weird, stars, in an unusually downbeat turn. She plays a woman from Scotland travelling to Medellin to visit her sick sister. Her sister’s husband suggests her sickness has been caused by her research: investigating a tribe in the Amazon that purposefully choose to stay hidden. She could be cursed. Like with Weerasethakul’s previous films, one suspects ghosts or malevolent spirits might be involved.

The film starts in typically slow fashion, a long pan of Swinton waking up in a dark room, then suddenly punctuated by an ominous banging sound. Considering how Weerasethakul’s films always make people fall asleep, these bangs are equivalent to Joseph Haydn’s “Surprise Symphony” in the way they can jolt the audience back into alertness. They come and go throughout the film, suggesting an otherworldly presence constantly lingering outside of the frame.

I did nod off in the beginning (not a criticism), but thanks to these bangs, I didn’t completely succumb to sleepiness; the film connecting with me on a strange, visceral level thanks to its epic long takes and strange, static mise-en-scène — whether it’s car alarms going off by themselves, a jazz band playing for upwards of ten minutes, or the epic finale featuring Tilda conversing with a man who has never left his village because he remembers everything and believes that “all experiences are harmful.” Swinton is completely on the wavelength of the director, making for a great combination of artist and subject.

It’s hard to say what it’s about, although clues abound throughout the movie, which is far more playful than any description could give it credit for. What’s more impressive is the way that Weerasethakul invites you into his completely original world. Memoria is like a feature-length version of those YouTube videos which can transport you to any soundscape in the world. Only playing in cinemas in perpetuity in the United States as part of an experimental run, the 360 degree sound mix gives a clear reason why this film should ideally be seen in the cinema. Whether it’s the humming of birds or the sounds of city life, Memoria embraces you into its vibe, making for a genuinely unique experience. Conversely, if it ever makes it onto your laptop screen, it would make the perfect calming soundscape to work alongside. I could easily imagine it having it on while going about my day job.

Memoria played in the Current Waves section of the Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. In cinemas Friday, January 14th. On various VoD platforms in June.

Memoria is in out Top 10 dirty movies of 2021.