If you’re looking for a heart warming Sri Lankan film with widescreen shots of the beautiful Sri Lankan landscape, you’ve come to the wrong place. House of My Fathers deliberately uses a narrower screen (as you’ll see in the trailer) to focus your eye on the trauma from the Sri Lankan civil war. You’ll meet one man and one woman,one Sinhala and the other Tamil, who are sent to an island together to find peace for the two communities. It’s a contemporary myth/fable full of dreams and visions.
Anori’s sweeping shots of Greenland’s snow covered glaciers and mountains sets an awe-inspiring tone for the film. The ethereal landscape shots add to the mystique of the Greenlandic myths spoken between Anori and Inuk that frame Anori. However, the beauty of the set up and intriguing mythical framing unfortunately don’t carry through into the bulk of the movie, as a simple love story and black and white battle between good and evil fall flat.
Anori starts with panoramic shots of Greenland’s glaciers and snow capped mountains backed by loud idyllic music, not too far off the airy sounds of Sigur Ros. It sets a tone of wonder and mystique that supports the dreamy scenes of Anori telling Inuk the Greenlandic myths she learnt as a child. With both of them dressed in white and shot brightly, these scenes feel like they’re happening in another realm.
From the mystical opening, the film cuts to Inuk falling into a coma after an accident at sea. After Anori flies to the hospital to be with him, the film jumps into the past to show us how Anori and Inuk met and how their love for each other grew.
Anori relies on images and sound to convey emotion. Like the characters in a Terrance Malick film, Anori and Inuk don’t say much to each other and appear completely in awe of each other. Their racing emotions are carried in the melodramatic soundtrack whilst their growing love is visualized in the newly blossoming Spring landscape. The images and music are nice, but not unique. They hit the expected notes of a romantic TV soap or telenovela, which makes the melodrama a bit obvious.
The lack of dialogue also hinders the film’s ability to develop the characters. As the flashback scenes are bathed in bright light and melodramatic music, we only see Anori and Inuk through rose-tinted glasses. We never see another side to their lives or hear about their backgrounds, so we can only take them as unquestionably good people. This portrayal becomes more problematic when the antagonist to their love is revealed and is presented as evil incarnate. Whilst the antagonist has his own problems, they are shown to be caused by them, forcing us to accept that he is simply evil, with no chance of redemption. The lack of dialogue and character development leaves the three main characters as a bit one-dimensional: they’re either good or evil, leaving no room for our interpretation.
What to Watch Next
If you’re looking for quick tragic young romance,the obvious place to go is Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Baz Lurhmann’s adaption is the most extravagant. Tannais a great modern day adaptation set within the Kastom tribe from Vanuatu.
Or if you’re looking for films which combine love and myths, check out the melodramatic Mirzyafrom northern India.
Or for more indigenous films from North America, check out Edge of the Knifeor browse the NFB catalogue of free indigenous films and take your pick.
Unfortunately Steppe Man isn’t one of the best films you are going to see. It’s a bit predictable in parts and seems ignorantly sexist. However, if you like camels and myth, or if you’re trying to complete a film tour of the Caucasus and need to tick of Azerbaijan, give it a watch. Step (no pun intended) into the world of the Steppe Man.
Full disclosure: I’m a sucker for jungle movies like this. Films where the jungle slowly ebbs away at the ego of each character until it merges with the forest and they disappear. Embrace of the Serpent, Apocalypse Now, and The Mercy of the Jungle are three great examples of this. In each of these films, the jungle is expansive and labyrinthine. As every part of it looks the same, it’s easy to see how you can begin to lose track of place and time – did I pass this tree 15 minutes ago, this rock looks familiar, etc. And once you’ve lost your place in time, the jungle starts to consume you, slowly dissolving your ego away.
Tragic Jungle stands out from the bunch in bringing the jungle to life. It uses the sounds of the Howler Monkey and Jaguar to turn it into a threatening physical entity. Their constant roars and grumbles occupying the sonic space are unnerving. The unease is further emphasized by the videos of the two animals mixed in with the main narrative. It makes it feel like the animals are just around the corner, waiting for the inevitable demise of the human protagonists. This is their home, and the Director, Yulene Olaizola, makes that clear.
The only character that seems comfortable in the jungle is the anonymous runaway, a young black Belizean woman chased across the River Hondo into Mexico by her hunters. It’s not clear if she’s escaped the gun of her hunter or not. But once she appears to a group of Mexican rubber harvesters out of the forest, she assumes her role as the Ixtabay woman, a legendary Mayan demon that appears from the forest to lure men to their deaths with her beauty. From this point, she’s completely silent among her new captors. However, her stoical face and slight smile to all the men that approach her, make it appear that she’s always in control.
Her character is exoticized by the Mexican rubber harvesters because of her race. Unlike them, who are a mix of Mexican mestizo and Mexican indigenous heritages, she is a black creole Belizean woman. She’s as unfamiliar to them as the jungle they’re working in, so it’s not surprising that they link her appearance to the supernatural.
Her exoticization also reflects the erasure of Afro-Mexicans from contemporary and historical Mexico. In using a Black creole woman from Belize as the Ixtabay woman, Tragic Jungle further ‘others’ the Black creole women of Mexico. It portrays Blackness as something exotic and unfamiliar to the Mexican characters of both indigenous and mixed Spanish and indigenous backgrounds, which enforces the foreignness of Blackness in Mexico despite it’s own Afro-Mexican community and links to African slavery. Because the Black characters are not Mexican, because they are exoticized and made to feel foreign, and because of the context of historical and present erasure of Afro-Mexicans in Mexico that is slowly gaining recognition, Tragic Jungle contributes to the systematic erasure of Blackness in Mexico.
Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.
Piedra Sola, like Notturno (one of the other films at this year’s AFI Fest), is beautifully shot. Set in the hamlet of Condor in the northern highlands of Argentina, it contains a lot of otherworldly landscapes and local ceremonies that look unusual to foreign eyes.
However, the exceptional images hint at a higher meaning that isn’t really decipherable in the film. For example, there’s the opening shot of a horse with its two front legs tied, hopping over a rocky hill at dawn. It’s a striking image, and beautifully captured in low light conditions, but it’s not clear how it fits into the narrative of Piedra Sola. The horse never reappears and doesn’t have too much of an impact on how we perceive the film, except to create intrigue. That’s not to say the film needs to have a narrative – it doesn’t – however, the scenes don’t feel like they all come together to unlock the mystery that they each contain. It feels more like a collection of sublime images than something complete.
This also comes across in the focus of the film, the lama herder. We see him go travel to a nearby town to sell his wares and get involved in the local festival, but beyond that we don’t have much of an understanding of him. It’s made vaguely aware that his livestock is being attacked by a puma, but it’s never clear if this is imagined, real, or an allegory for something else. His silence and emotionless face don’t give away any of his feelings either way. He is as mysterious as the collection of images that make up Piedra Sola.
His lack of agency also comes across as a bit problematic. Combined with his silence and lack of emotion, it presents another image of the passive Latin American indigenous person. Like Cleo in Roma and Justino in The Fever (two more films directed by non-indigenous directors), things happen to the lama herder that he quietly reacts to. Instead of initiating things himself, he only responds to things around him, which makes him seem a bit characterless.
There’s also the exoticization of the isolated Andean community. The director, Alejandro Telemaco Tarraf beautifully captures the ceremonies and the hamlet, but he also others it. The unique culture is viewed with a gaze that highlights the differences between the highland culture of Argentina from the city culture of Buenos Aires. It makes their culture seem a bit rustic and old fashioned, situating the community as if it exists in another world and time.
If you’re looking for a beautifully shot, esoteric movie set in the remote highlands of Argentina, you’ll love Piedra Sola. However, the mystery in the images and narrative make it hard to access, whilst the exoticization and passivization of the portrayals of the remote community make it hard to love.
Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.
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