Alright, I suppose it’s not technically a 2008 picture as it played in quite a lot of festivals back in aught seven. Apparently though, Silent Light is getting some sort of nationwide release this month in The United States.
This isn’t a review and these aren’t even extended thoughts on the movie itself. Rather (and I don’t know the eligibility rules of this particular film, so let’s put those aside), this is my plead to Academy voters (or whoever puts the nominations together) to nominate and award Carlos Reygadas with the best director Oscar for 2008.
While I don’t think there is anything particularly groundbreaking about the directing style, it’s certainly refreshing and one that should hold the viewer in absolute captivity; nestled securely within the world that writer/director Reygadas has firmly planted us with the opening shot. Taking cues from the likes of legendary directors Terrence Malick, Kim Ki-Duk and maybe a dash of Werner Herzog, the film resonates with truth, life, spirituality and beauty. Maybe think Sam Mendes overdosing on Ritalin in an Amish community.
Reygadas shoots for realism and impact of the world around us. The opening shot is a long, unbroken take of nature just waking up. The camera carefully and deliberately spirals downward from the starry heavens to reveal a marsh land just before dawn. As the camera slowly (I mean slowly) moves out of the marsh and into some sort of golden field, we can hear all of the sounds of the morning: crickets and bullfrogs slowly giving way to the sounds of distant roosters and the horrifying sounds of cattle bellowing. We’re totally immersed into this natural world until we see a farmhouse in the distance. This is all in the first ten minutes. From here, we meet our characters and start the day with them in near silence as we watch a typical breakfast of a Mennonite family.
While there is very little to the general plot itself, it could be summed up in about two sentences, we instead rely on the joy of human emotion (both positive and negative), the beauty that can be derived from it and the natural world that surrounds it. The director’s restrained use of camera movement, lighting and angles to express these emotions is beyond glorious. We almost don’t need characters to convey thought or emotion. The camera seems to be able to do all of this on its own (in this way I was reminded a bit of Godfrey Reggio’s Koyaanisqatsi - though without being frantic).
Watching a man slowly drive his truck in circles around the camera to convey joy, the deliberate use of sun flares to bring about warmth and romance, some (relatively) quick movements to show hard work and discipline or distancing the camera (or maybe even slightly hiding around a corner) from a scene to examine betrayal or moral deviance. Over and over again each shot is meaningful, deliberate and noticeably elegant. Beyond the shots in the fields, I particularly traveling in cars with the characters. In one instance, despite which direction the car was traveling, the camera maintained its gaze due south; seemingly on a swivel. It’s small tactical elements of originality like these that keep the viewer invested in what the director is trying to accomplish - though admittedly it does not necessary help one to be immersed in the story.
This also seems to be a director who lets the chips fall as they may. Here is the shot he wants and he gets it; regardless of the actors’ movements or lines of dialogue. As an example, a woman must walk about fifty feet through a field with her hands full on the way to her truck. About 25 feet before she gets there, her hat accidentally falls off and she’s forced to leave it. After getting to the truck where there is written dialogue for the actors, she walks all the way back to her hat and picks it up and then goes back again to the truck to complete the scene. I find it hard to believe that this was intentional as it felt so real and natural - like it was a complete accident. Instead of calling “cut,” the director just let’s it happen and works with what he captured.
There is scene after scene of distilled, natural beauty everywhere our characters go. The good news is that it all seems like real beauty. It might seem a bit on the fake side, or something that doesn’t happen everywhere one goes, but either the weather of the region just happened to cooperate perfectly or Reygadas had some skillful cinematography on his side with Alexis Zabe. I tend to think it was the latter and the weather as it appears, just is. Reygadas took what he could from it and ran to get the celluloid.
The entire movie ties itself up, cinematically speaking, quite nicely by coming around full circle as the day closes and we retreat back to the marsh with all of it’s wonderful sights and sounds. We once again ascend to the starry sky to ponder all that we’d just seen. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, Carlos Reygadas’ Silent Light is the finest crafted film I’ve seen on the year.
stills and a clip from the film…
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