Tag: experimental

Fragments From Heaven

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

QUICK SNAP: LIVE FROM LOCARNO

The desert, in its bleak, existential emptiness, offers man the chance to discover his destiny. There’s a reason Moses didn’t travel through lush vegetation and rolling hills for 40 days. There’s nothing, nothing, nothing before suddenly something. Something quite remarkable indeed. Perhaps the origin of all human life.

My opening oversells Fragments From Heaven somewhat, a poetic, if slight, documentary from Morocco with two complimentary strands: firstly, the story of Mohamed, a nomad who pursues the desert for meteorite debris, believing it has the power to change his life, and Abderrahmane, a scientist who is exploring the origin of these rocks in order to answer questions about the Big Bang itself. Combining long takes with ambient sound design, and heated discussions with Terrence Malick-style voiceover, this documentary takes you on a quest, touching on topics both scientific and existential.

There are shades of Werner Herzog’s recent geographically-minded documentaries here, such as Into The Inferno (2018) and Fireball: Visitors from Darker Worlds (2020) — looking at the physical world in order to understand the man-made one. But Adnane Baraka’s film — which he shot, edited, and sound-designed himself — has no conventional talking heads and a much smaller scope and budget, keeping its perspective relatively close. It begs to be seen in a cinema, considering the experiential duration of the desert-set takes, following characters around as they look for these rare meteorite fragments. At home on a computer screen, your attention may easily wane.

We learn back in Abderrahmane’s research centre, that not only are these fragments potentially millions of years old, but they actually pre-date the sun itself. At one point, we even learn that some fragments have organic matter on them, briefly begging the question that there may be life elsewhere in the universe. In one discussion with his students, he even argues that understanding these fragments could be the key to understanding how the universe began. Given the importance of the work, someone needs to give this man more funding right away!

He is the classic scientist, speaking French, while Mohamed, speaking Amazigh, working on the ground with his wife and children, is far more religious-minded. And while the two subjects never meet, they do seem to be in dialogue with one another, creating an interesting tension between faith and science. Perhaps the final answer still resides in the stars?

Ending with a Tree Of Life-like (Terrence Malick, 2011) evocation of the sun burning and lights flaring and fire piercing the cosmos, Baraka finally aims for profundity and awe — reminding us of the infinite potential of the universe around us, small shards of which are more likely to collect in the Moroccan desert than almost anywhere else on earth. Nonetheless, these moments do come after plenty of ponderous takes. There is a lot to think about, but a lot of wading through the desert is needed to get there.

Fragments From Heaven plays as part of Concorso Cineasti del presente at the Locarno Film Festival, running from 3-13th August.

Space Dogs

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

For mankind to see if it could survive the perils of space exploration, it tested one of its first flights on a dog named Laika. She made it into space but was incinerated upon re-entry into the earth’s atmosphere. This is depicted in Space Dogs with a 2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968) inspired level of wonder; both in its epic range and its psychedelic play of sound and colours. Yet this violent and strange beginning is only a harbinger of what’s to come: a very weird deep dive into man’s worst tendencies to man’s best friend.

This is unlike any documentary I have ever seen. Part obtuse-Angela Schanelec movie, part Stalker (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1979), part Aleksey German Jr’s Under Electric Clouds (2015), it’s a fragmented, overly repetitive and narratively angular depiction of stray dogs living in Moscow intercut up with an essayistic exploration of the Soviet Space program. While not everything works — some scenes are simply too long to keep us engaged — duo Elsa Kremser and Levin Peter deserve credit for the boldness of their vision and the steadfastness of their execution.

Space Dogs

By far their biggest score is the narration by Russian veteran Aleksey Serebryakov — best known for McMafia (Hossein Amini and James Watkins, 2018-) and Leviathan (Andrey Zvyagintsev, 2014) — whose unmistakable timbre lends the film a certain authority and tragic inevitability. He recounts the legend that Laika didn’t permanently disappear but actually returned to the streets of Moscow as a ghost. Our hero in this “documentary” is also a Laika— who either is the Laika herself, a descendent of the Space Program dogs, or another dog entirely — who endlessly roams the wide avenues of Russia’s capital, finding little respite from man’s eternal cruelness.

Space Dogs often films these animals from the ground, allowing us to imagine life from their perspective. In comparison, the momentous tower blocks and orange-tinged sky of a relatively unpeopled Moscow — filmed in the dusk and dawn — creates a sense of unreality and oppression that the main Laika and its roaming gang of companions simply cannot escape. Like the best of Soviet science fiction, the concept of space travel and exploration is something of an Escher’s staircase, looping back to humanity itself, and its own seemingly unsurmountable issues.

The film debuted at the festival with a very apt content warning. If you are in anyway an animal lover, Space Dogs is a relentlessly difficult watch. Yet I felt that its very dedication to exposing man’s absolute cruelty to his kindest animals achieves a bizarre kind of moral. It’s closest comparison might actually be White Bim Black Ear (Stanislav Rostotsky, 1977), a Soviet doggy-centric take on Au Hazard Balthasar (Robert Bresson, 1966) that is even more heartrending due to its manipulation of the audience’s hopes and dreams. Yet it shares a similar theme in showing how we treat dogs — ostensible big balls of kindness — reflects back on us as a society. After all, if we cannot be kind to man’s best friend, how are we ever going to be kind to one another?

Space Dogs prompted many walkouts in my screening, meaning it may be a hard sell for distributors. Deckert Distribution have the rights, and may try have some success in the arthouse circuit.

Available on Mubi is September.

Madeline’s Madeline

Posted on by victorfraga

The cat breathes and makes sounds. Little noises that inadvertently get behind your ears and stay with you while you are watching Madeline’s Madeline, the new feature by American director Josephine Decker. By tackling mental illness in the story of a young theatre actress in a manner that disrupts both style and storytelling, the director creates an invigorating audiovisual experience that has wowed cinephiles since its debut at Sundance last year.

Watching Madeline’s Madeline feels like being part of a very intimate dream. We become an integral part of the life of the protagonist, played by Helena Howard in a breathtaking debut. We see the action entirely through her eyes, as she becomes the star of an experimental workshop in a theatre troupe of New York. In the first half of the film she pretends to be a cat and a sea turtle. Next, she pretends to be a pig.

“In all disorder there’s a secure order” says Madeline’s teacher Evangeline (Molly Parker), who is very fond of the adolescent’s creative presence. Suddenly, the play begins to veer in an unexpected direction. The rehearsals are portrayed as improvised, emotional and sometimes chaotic. The same can be said about Madeline’s world. We get a grasp of Madeline’s troubled mental state as she stages her routine through her distorted point-of-view. We also learn that she has a dysfunctional relationship with her mother Regina (Miranda July).

Madeline is not the only one drifting. The visuals do of the movie, too. The camera work and editing include a playful use of the depth of focus, abrupt time jumps and images overlays. These resources handled by cinematographer Ashley Connor and the team of editors (Decker, Harrison Atkins and Elizabeth Rao) go hand-in-hand with our protagonist sense of self. Behind the unconventional and sometimes oneiric narrative, lies an intimate tale about growing up and surrendering to the artistic process. This is not a new theme in Decker’s work, who has placed her very own relationship with director Zefrey Throwell at scrutiny of the camera in their documentary Flames (2017).

Art raises more questions than answers. Madeline sees how her work on the play gets caught in her bond with her mother. Regina is overprotective, and attempt to solve her daughter’s problem with an excessive and damaging mount of nurture.

Howard is the true star of the film thanks. This is an unforgettable role. She walks through the streets of New York at night talking to strangers, while also emulating their mannerisms. This is a committed and surprisingly natural portrayal, and the tactics are both endearing and devastating. By the end of the film, the actress also gives a soliloquy worthy of an award.

The power dynamics between the three women at the helm the story change constantly as Madeline’s Madeline evolves into a more traditional depiction of a troubled mind. Decker’s daring conception of the energetic and fierce Madeline – a complex, lovable and unique character – reminds us of what experimental cinema can achieve. This is truly powerful stuff.

Madeline’s Madeline showed at the International Film Festival Rotterdam, when this piece was originally written. It is out in cinemas across the UK on Friday, May 10th. On Amazon Prime on Friday, July 12th.