Something I set to record more on the basis of its setting than anything else, Far North is something of which I'd never heard, nor indeed would have by anything other than chance. Chance was in my favour however, thrusting me and this little production together.
Saiva and Anja are two women, the former the adoptive mother of the latter, living an isolated life away from the community from which they originally came, Saiva alleged at birth by a shaman to be cursed. Their lives are interrupted when a wounded soldier stumbles into their camp, affecting the routine of their days.
The tundra-central setting—the primary motivation for my opting to devote recording space to this film—is the first thing about Far North to attract our attention. The vast whiteness of this unoccupied land is explored beautifully through the usage of wide angle lenses, a sweeping opening shot, and the sole spot of blackness that is the yurt of our protagonist duo. Theirs is a quiet relationship, the intimacy they share communicated through the slightest of gestures rather than expository dialogue. The film is impressively silent, much of its running time featuring no sounds other than the constant bitter wind which pervades the soundtrack. The combination of image and sound in the film is meditative, such beautiful images as the Aurora Borealis, the great snowy mountains, and the rolling hills so covered in impenetrable whiteness that it is hard not to be lost in their banal perfection entirely unforgettable. Largely a three-hander, the film's performances are the tent-poles which support it, the particularly commendable quietness of Michelle Yeoh lending a dignified tragedy to her character. The relationships form the film's centrepiece, the evolution of these over the course of the narrative compelling and unpredictable. Twist is an inaccurate word to apply to a film of this sort, but it stores a number of surprises up its sleeve, the particular paths taken towards its denouement rather unconventional and, often, shocking. It is an emotional film, structured masterfully around these three characters and reinforced fantastically with splendid cinematography. The cold whites and blues of the arctic are contrasted wonderfully with the warm yellows and oranges of Saiva's flashback to times when she was with her community: when she had love, friendship, and hope. It is difficult not to be saddened by the melancholy the film presents, punctuated though it is by moments of silent beauty.
An entrancing spectacle, Far North offers the very best of the fine combination one can craft with cinematography and setting. Expressing itself slowly and almost silently, it is a film that relies on artistic expression rather than speech; on the strength of its performances rather than action. Added to unquestionably by its wonderful score, it is a highpoint of modern independent cinema.
Saiva and Anja are two women, the former the adoptive mother of the latter, living an isolated life away from the community from which they originally came, Saiva alleged at birth by a shaman to be cursed. Their lives are interrupted when a wounded soldier stumbles into their camp, affecting the routine of their days.
The tundra-central setting—the primary motivation for my opting to devote recording space to this film—is the first thing about Far North to attract our attention. The vast whiteness of this unoccupied land is explored beautifully through the usage of wide angle lenses, a sweeping opening shot, and the sole spot of blackness that is the yurt of our protagonist duo. Theirs is a quiet relationship, the intimacy they share communicated through the slightest of gestures rather than expository dialogue. The film is impressively silent, much of its running time featuring no sounds other than the constant bitter wind which pervades the soundtrack. The combination of image and sound in the film is meditative, such beautiful images as the Aurora Borealis, the great snowy mountains, and the rolling hills so covered in impenetrable whiteness that it is hard not to be lost in their banal perfection entirely unforgettable. Largely a three-hander, the film's performances are the tent-poles which support it, the particularly commendable quietness of Michelle Yeoh lending a dignified tragedy to her character. The relationships form the film's centrepiece, the evolution of these over the course of the narrative compelling and unpredictable. Twist is an inaccurate word to apply to a film of this sort, but it stores a number of surprises up its sleeve, the particular paths taken towards its denouement rather unconventional and, often, shocking. It is an emotional film, structured masterfully around these three characters and reinforced fantastically with splendid cinematography. The cold whites and blues of the arctic are contrasted wonderfully with the warm yellows and oranges of Saiva's flashback to times when she was with her community: when she had love, friendship, and hope. It is difficult not to be saddened by the melancholy the film presents, punctuated though it is by moments of silent beauty.
An entrancing spectacle, Far North offers the very best of the fine combination one can craft with cinematography and setting. Expressing itself slowly and almost silently, it is a film that relies on artistic expression rather than speech; on the strength of its performances rather than action. Added to unquestionably by its wonderful score, it is a highpoint of modern independent cinema.