This is a strange film, but strange in a good way.
An unnamed volunteer lives alone on a Cornish island, her only job, seemingly, being to record the well-being of a small clump of peculiar flowers. This takes about five minutes a day. The rest of the time she wanders the island, drops a stone ritually down well (or is it a mine shaft?) and reads a book that proclaims that, after you've finished it, nothing will ever be the same.
The only other "inhabitant" of the island is a standing stone, on which the camera lingers lovingly.
On one level it's a study of loneliness ("But I'm not alone," she says, in one of the few lines of dialogue), on the other it's a journey of self-discovery as the past, present and future collide in - one assumes - the volunteer's head.
There are many clues - some more subtle than others (the brass memorial plaque, the red and yellow waterproofs, the fact the the sea seems to be flowing backwards at one point) - but nothing is spelled out. The number seven is important, too. She hallucinates seven children, seven women, seven miners, seven seamen, all of which add to the sense of unease.
This is a deeply unsettling film; the fact that it refuses to be unambiguous means that the only meaning is the one each viewer takes from it. It's a film that will stay in the memory for a very long time.
An unnamed volunteer lives alone on a Cornish island, her only job, seemingly, being to record the well-being of a small clump of peculiar flowers. This takes about five minutes a day. The rest of the time she wanders the island, drops a stone ritually down well (or is it a mine shaft?) and reads a book that proclaims that, after you've finished it, nothing will ever be the same.
The only other "inhabitant" of the island is a standing stone, on which the camera lingers lovingly.
On one level it's a study of loneliness ("But I'm not alone," she says, in one of the few lines of dialogue), on the other it's a journey of self-discovery as the past, present and future collide in - one assumes - the volunteer's head.
There are many clues - some more subtle than others (the brass memorial plaque, the red and yellow waterproofs, the fact the the sea seems to be flowing backwards at one point) - but nothing is spelled out. The number seven is important, too. She hallucinates seven children, seven women, seven miners, seven seamen, all of which add to the sense of unease.
This is a deeply unsettling film; the fact that it refuses to be unambiguous means that the only meaning is the one each viewer takes from it. It's a film that will stay in the memory for a very long time.