remote

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.

Geographies of Solitude has many impressive shots of Nova Scotia’s Sable Island, a remote island almost 200 miles off the Canadian coast in the Atlantic Ocean. It starts with one of the most memorable shots, a night sky with more stars than you’ve likely ever seen in the sky before. The sheer number of stars makes the shot appear like an impressionistic painting, and the light is so bright, you even get to see a very clear silhouette of a person walking across the horizon. It’s an almost ASMR-type experience watching the opening with its complimentary ambient soundscape. It feels like you could watch the whole film without dialogue as the images and sound lull you into a trance, that it’s a surprise when there’s speech and we’re introduced to Zoe.

Zoe has been living on the island for over 40 years, mostly alone. We follow her as she explores the 12 square mile island every day to log any changes in the environment. She carries a kit with sampling pots and a notepad to capture anything new and log anything different she might see. Some days she might find a dead bird and on others she might encounter a new insect she hasn’t seen before, however, most days are repetitive logging exercises that track very small changes on the island. Despite the beautiful remote location, Zoe’s existence feels very monotonous and lonely.

The filmmaker, Jacquelyn Mills, takes the filmmaking to similarly exhaustive levels. Almost everything is shot using 16mm film, some of which is processed with a variety of experimental methods such as with peat, yarrow, and seaweed. Mills also pushes the soundtrack to the extreme with insect inspired melodies – literally music created to the steps of the local bugs. Both fit the subject of the documentary, as the experimental filmmaking matches Zoe’s own scientific experiments. However, the experimenting feels too exhaustive. There’s so much experimenting, it feels like the point of the experiments in the first place has been forgotten.

There’s a moment near the end of Geographies of Solitude in which Zoe questions the meaning of her own life. Her answer is a little melancholic as she seems to express doubt about her choice to live on the island for 40 years. She wonders if she’s stretched her life too long on the island and spent too much time away from everything else. The film feels a bit similar. The filmmakers have gone to extraordinary levels to make something unique – soaking film in peat and making music from bugs, but like Zoe’s endless logging, what is the point. Despite the beautiful location and beautiful shots, Geographies of Solitude is imbued with a melancholy for the futility of it all.

Head to our AFI Fest 2022 Hub for more reviews from AFI Fest 2022.

Piedra Sola – AFI Fest 2020

Geographies of Solitude – AFI Fest 2022