Silent Light

Out of the great natural beauty of rural Mexico and its interplay with a family of
Mennonites, writer/director Carlos Reygadas forges this absolutely beautiful film.   It’s
about passion, illicit passion in a very formal culture—the man is in love with a woman
other than his wife.   Reygadas has a gorgeous way with light and landscapes, even when
the geography is that of the human face, in turmoil or bliss, running with sweat or tears.  
You get a real sense of this family as spiritual beings, living in harmony with nature (God),
washing in the river, farming.   On the other hand, the now-famous five-minute shot of
dawn breaking, or the way the camera lingers on a purple flower after all humans have
left the frame, seem to ascribe a certain imperviousness to nature: it will continue to cycle
through its seasons regardless of human passions.   Reygadas lets sounds amass and
gather weight, both soft (roosters crowing, birds chirping, a ticking clock) and loud (farm
machinery, welders, roaring trucks rushing past on the highway).   The film is hypnotic if
you get on its wavelength.   And it ends with a bit of magic realism out of a bible story or
fairy tale.  

(This one has been out for awhile; I caught it on a special return engagement).  

Rating: ****1/2

Key to ratings:

***** (essential viewing)
**** (excellent)
*** (worth a look)
** (forgettable)
* (rubbish!!)

 - Jun 26, 2009