We don’t believe in a cinema that yells “¡Viva la revolución!” but in one that instead formally critiques the structures that originally created the profound injustice that exists today.
Pedro Escoto, Director of Ruinas Tu Reino
If you’re not familiar with slow film or meditative cinema, the lack of story line and raw experimental shots of Ruinas Tu Reino might prove to be too much of a challenge. The long shots of the sea and fishermen sitting around makes the film feel more like a film exhibit you’d see in a modern art museum. However, if you have the patience to observe, you’ll find a film imbued with poetry; literally in words that appear on screen, and visually in the meditative shots of the fisherman’s existence. It’s a film that seeks to deconstruct Latin American cinema by transcending historical narratives, reverting to DIY production, and focusing on the power of very raw images.
In Simshar, 11 year old Theo’s first trip with his Maltese fisherman family goes terribly wrong when the ship sinks far from land in the Mediterranean Sea. Meanwhile, Alex a medic on a Turkish merchant vessel that rescues a group of migrants in trouble gets stuck on the ship as the surrounding countries wage a bureaucratic war over who should take them in.
There’s plenty going on in Simshar. Perhaps too much. Instead of focusing on the Simshar incident or the migrant crisis, it tries to connect both in two separate stories. However, their connection never feels strong enough to make Simshar a compelling melodrama or political drama.
Instead of being a movie that examines the migrant crisis through the Simshar incident, this movie is a dramatized depiction of the Simshar incident featuring another narrative tied to the migrant crisis. Whilst they both are related to the sea and Malta, the director doesn’t nearly do enough to tie the two stories. It feels like the migrant crisis pieces are included to make the film more relevant to the political climate in which it was made.
Even the dates of the film feel off. Whilst the Simshar incident happened in 2008, the migrant crisis didn’t fully explode until slightly later in the 21st century. This is not to say that there weren’t African migrants traversing the Mediterranean in 2008 – there were – but it was not nearly as well covered in European news in 2008 as in 2014 when this film was made. Making this movie about an international immigration crisis, and not just about a fishing tragedy, probably made Simshar a lot more marketable on the film festival circuit than if it just focused on the fishing tragedy.
However, if you’re into Mediterranean melodrama, the Simshar incident narrative might appeal to you. It’s sepia tinted scenes backed by a slightly whimsical accordion soundtrack evokes a romanticized depiction of Maltese life. It almost feels a bit nostalgic too, as if it’s looking fondly back on a time in Malta before the migrant crisis and foreign rules (fishing restrictions) threatened it. The no-nonsense Maltese family that clings onto their way of life despite national and international fishing restrictions runs against the change caused by the migrant crisis.
The romanticized portrayal of Maltese life feels slightly problematic in contrast with the underdeveloped migrant characters in the migrant crisis narrative. The Maltese characters are given screen time to build their characters through dialogue and actions, whereas the migrants are only spoken to. It means that viewers naturally sympathize with the traditional Maltese people and not the migrants as they’re actually humanized on screen. This is most evident in a scene in which one black migrant shouts “you don’t know what we’ve been through” to white Maltese hecklers. We, like the Maltese characters don’t know what they’ve been through, and unfortunately the film never tries to answer this either. As a result, Simshar’s attempt to cover the migrant crisis, whilst also dramatizing the Simshar incident feels half hearted, leaving both narratives feeling flat.
What to Watch Next
If you like warm portrayals of quaint Southern European life, check out Cinema Paradiso and The Courtyard of Songs. Both fully immerse the viewer without trying to make political statements. Or if you’d really like to see film that does manage to integrate a political statement into a small town Mediterranean film, try the gentrification narrative of Montenegro’s The Black Pin.
Angolares are the oldest inhabitants of the island of São Tomé. Control of the island was wrested from them in the late 19th century, and their descendants have been reduced to a small fishing community sitting on the border of the sea and jungle. Sea and Jungle explores the tangled history of the Angolares and the island of São Tomé.
Sea and Jungle starts as a narrated documentary. The filmmaker, Ângelo Torres, talks through an introduction to the remote fishing village of Sao Joao dos Angolares in the southern part of São Tomé (the main island of São Tomé and Principe) alongside shots of village life. There’s only 2,500 people living here on this strip of land bordering the Sea and Jungle (Mionga Ki Ôbo). The narrated documentary start gives the viewer a foundational understanding of the place and heritage (these people are the oldest inhabitants of the island following their escape from slavery) before the filmmaker grounds us in some local interviews.
The majority of the interview subjects are part of the fishing community of the village. They tell stories of the sea to give us a living perspective of the island to add to the director’s introduction. Some are functional, like the fish saleswoman that details how she funds her entrepreneurial job, whilst some are more emotional, like the traumatic story from a fisherman that hasn’t gone out to sea for four years after a near death experience. There’s also an interview with the island’s godfather type – a white man who’s the go-to money lender for the island and literal godfather to 117 local children. His white skin is a sign that the Portuguese colonial legacy on the island perhaps hasn’t fully passed. Whilst the sequence of interviews doesn’t develop a story or any themes, the interviews with the locals give a more vivid depiction of life in Sao Joao dos Angolares.
Some of the interviews are broken up by improvisational dance and dramatic reenactments of some of the stories. These interludes add a dreaminess to the documentary that runs with the narrator’s musings and mystical interview questions. The dreamy, mystical tone makes the interviewee’s references to superstitions seem more normal. There’s the man who doesn’t each shark because it might be the shark that ate his father, the boat makers that cut the trees for the canoes on specific moon-lit nights, and the doctors that summon spirits to help them cure their neighbors. However, the creative dreaminess is not fully embraced – the filmdoesn’t go full Fausto in it’s originality. It also doesn’t focus one theme; jumping between local fishing stories, superstitions, historical narrative, and improvisational scenes which dilute the film’s focus. But if you’re looking for an interesting documentary capturing life from a small town on a small African island country, Sea and Jungle does it’s job.
What to Watch Next
There’s a few more interesting African documentaries that center on life by the sea. Golden Fish, African Fish opens a window on Senegal’s many fisherman whilst Batuque will let you listen to Cape Verde’s national music. Or for a dreamy docudrama from another island nation, check out Mauritius’ The Cathedral. In Search of Voodoo also does a similar job of capturing one aspect of a country’s culture.
You could also check out Inland Sea from Japan if you’re looking for more fishing related documentaries from around the world.
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