If you’re a fan of mellow conversation led family dramas, The Stranger might become your next favorite film. It features the unexpected return of a long lost relative after 30 years of traveling the world. On his return he finds a changed city and an unwelcoming family that are skeptical of his identity. What follows is a film that could take place on the stage. Shot mostly in a spacey urban Indian apartment, The Stranger focuses on the conversational duels between the returning outcast, Uncle Mitra, and his niece Anila and her husband. It swings between debates about civilization, religion, culture, identity and traveling the world. Plus there’s a heartwarming relationship between Uncle Mitra and his young grand-nephew, the only person that trusts him.
This Is Not a Burial, It’s a Resurrection is not your typical film. It’s pretty slow paced and full of carefully crafted shots, reminiscent of director Lemohang Jeremiah Mosese’s debut, Mother I Am Suffocating. This is My Last Film About You. However, unlike his debut documentary feature, This Is Not a Burial, Its a Resurrection is Mosese’s first fictional feature film. But don’t expect an easy to follow narrative, as like a Lav Diaz film (see From What is Before), it requires a lot of interpretation. If you put in the effort, you’ll be rewarded with a beautiful constructed film touching on a wide range of themes covering death, community, progress, and the environment.
This Is Not a Burial, Its a Resurrection starts chaotically with a slow motion shot of a group of horses being attacked by tribesmen. This opening shot doesn’t appear to serve any contextual purpose, as the horses or tribesmen never reappear later in the film, but it does create a sense of uneasiness which prevents us from settling into the film. This feeling continues into the next scene in which a camera slowly pans around a dark empty bar with the eerie sounds of a lesiba instrument playing in the background. The cameras stops on a uniquely dressed man who starts giving us clues about what we are about to see. He doesn’t reveal much, as he uses a lot of legends and proverbs which don’t mean much to us at this point, but his speech indicates that we’ll have to be an active viewer and search for deeper meaning in the rest of the film.
We finally meet our main protagonist Mantoa in the next scene. She’s an eighty-something woman living alone in remote valley in Lesotho, which is a days trip from the nearest town. Her last son has passed away, so she’s now the last one left in her family. As a result, all she craves now is her own death, so she sets about planning her own funeral. Until her time comes, she carries on with the futility of her life, attending local community meetings and covering cracks in her mud floor. However, her patience is disrupted by news that the local government are planning to flood the area with the construction of a big dam. Not only does the dam disrupt the plans for her own burial, but it will also force the relocation of her buried family. As the main figure leading the resistance against the dam, she becomes more and more distanced from her community and religion. Her death isn’t a physical one, but a death from her community and cultural roots as the country ruthlessly pushes forward in the name of progress.
The narrative is sparse, but the look and feel of the film is incredibly rich. One way Mosese adds a unique richness is through his use of a taller 1:33:1 aspect ratio which gives the picture slightly more height. The extra vertical space allows the sky to dominate every image by taking up almost half of the screen for each landscape shot. In contrast, the people in the community are largely confined to the bottom third of each landscape shot. This framing adds power to the sky and nature, and diminishes the significance of the people below. Their lives and the things they do, such as building dams, are impermanent compared to the eternal nature of the sky (and heaven?). The taller aspect ratio therefore enforces the futility of not just Mantoa, but the futility of humanity as a whole.
The futility of humanity is enforced by the feeling generated by the films’ soundtrack. Firstly, listen to the trailer for this film without watching it. It sounds like a horror film. There’s the unique muffled bursts of the lesiba combined with a horror 101 mix of piano notes, scratchy strings, and ascending voices. This soundscape plays throughout the film to viscerally convey the confusion, anger, and sadness that Mantoa feels on her quest to join her dead family. But the sounds used in horror films also signifies the presence of the spiritual realm. Just as the taller aspect ratio gives more power to the sky and nature at the expense of the significance of humanity, the soundtrack bolsters the dominance of the spiritual over the physical human bodies. It reminds us that we’re not in control of our own fate.
The unsettling opening, sparse narrative, and rich look and feel of the film make This is Not a Burial, It’s a Resurrection feel enigmatic. By the end, it feels like you’ve just watched a piece of art. You might have understood a bit of the film and felt its power and beauty, but you will finish it feeling that it’s full meaning is unattainable. It’s mystery is the mystery of life.
Vai is a collection of eight short films made by 9 women which takes place across seven different countries (Fiji, Tonga, Solomon Islands, New Zealand, Kuki Airani, Samoa, and Niue). The titular character, Vai, is played by eight different indigenous women aging from 6 to 80.
Another interesting thing to note before watching is that ‘Vai’ translates as ‘water’ in each of the countries named above. Water is an integral part of the story. It surrounds each of the islands, which isolates each community, making traveling between islands harder. It’s ability to provide food is threatened as companies infringe on and overfish in traditional fishing waters. Drinking water is also rare and hoarded by the privileged. Most importantly, it gives life, both spiritually (as in the final short) and physically.
“We sweat and cry salt water, so we know that the ocean is really in our blood”
Teresia Teaiwa
A Common Indigenous Experience
Vai’s journey is played by 8 different indigenous actresses across 7 different countries and 8 different ages. In the first short, Vai is a 6 year old girl in Fiji, and the film progresses until the final short shows her as an 80 year old woman in Aeotara (New Zealand). By shooting Vai’s journey with different actresses across different countries, Vai creates a common indigenous Pacific Islander experience.
One common theme is the cycle of leaving and returning. In the first three shorts, Vai lives without her mother or father, as they’ve been forced to travel to New Zealand to try and provide for their family. In the fourth, Vai has already left Samoa and is studying in New Zealand. The final four films feature an older Vai that has returned to home. She returns and has to relearn the traditional ways she has forgotten. Whilst she regains her community, her younger relatives leave their homes just as she did, repeating the cycle of coming and going.
(Insert analogy comparing the coming and going of the people and tradition to the coming and going of the sea tides).
A Life Well Lived
The Pacific Islander experience may be new to some viewers, however, the experience of life is much more universal. It’s scope reminded me a little bit of Linklater’s Boyhood, except here the scope is much larger. Instead of focusing on a child from 8 years old to 18, Vai follows a woman across a whole lifetime. In doing so it encapsulates the entire experience of life in 90 minutes. When you’re watching Vai as an 80 year old, the memories of the shorts of Vai as a 6 and 13 year old are still clear in your head which allows us to enter Vai’s old age with a greater understanding of where she came from. These are memories that we often lose touch of once we hit adulthood in our own lives. Showing it all in one film lets us see life repeating itself and allows us to better empathize with Vai as an older woman.
Or, if you’re looking for more films which follow a single character across different ages, I’d strongly recommend checking out Boyhood and Moonlight. They’re two great U.S. films about growing up.
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