A series looking at the films of Eastern Europe.
Directed by Julia Loktev
Directed by Julia Loktev
Starring Hani Furstenberg (Nica),
Gael García Bernal (Alex), and Bidzina
Gujabidze (Dato)
Written by Julia Loktev adapting
the short story “Expensive Trips Nowhere” by Tom Bissel
Cinematography by Inti Briones
Edited by Julia Loktev and
Michael Taylor
Released in 2012
Much like the film itself, the title The Loneliest Planet is hard to pin down. It could reflect the immediate
communication gap that exists between the two main characters (foreign
thrill-seekers Nicah and Alex) and the native Georgians they encounter (mainly
their guide Dato), or the gap that develops between the central pair as the
film progresses. It may be a signifier of the indifferent, alienating, and
perilous environments the characters trek through. Or it might be a simple joke
on the American youth-focused travel guide company Lonely Planet.
The plot of Julia Loktev’s film can be summarized in one short
sentence. Two soon-to-be-married travelers hike through the Georgian mountains
with a guide and an incident occurs that tests their relationship. The film has
very little dialogue, with most of what is there focused on banalities, jokey
conversations between the three leads, and a few details about their
backstories. Most horror or thriller movies create tension by putting
sympathetic characters in rough situations and then getting us to root for
their survival. Not so with The Loneliest
Planet. The film doesn’t fit into either of those categories, but is bristling
with plenty of tension nonetheless. Loktev, cinematographer Inti Briones, and
editor Michael Taylor craft the film so that scenes drift for long amounts of
time and then abruptly cut, shift between static compositions and stalker-ish
handheld tracking shots, and jump between intimate close-ups and humongous
vistas. The tension comes not from wondering what will happen next to the
characters (although there is some of that on the first viewing), but more from
worrying over how long the current scene will go on, when the next cut will be, and
what type of image will come next. The Loneliest
Planet manages to manipulate so well purely through its form, that if
Loktev ever did make a straight horror film, I would worry that everyone who
saw it would be reduced to a shivering puddle. Through these techniques the film sustains a constantly disruptive tone.
It even begins violently, with a shot of Nica naked and jumping up and down
trying to stay warm. The huge variance in style between shots requires constant
recalibration on the part of the viewer, like having to rapidly adjust your
eyes when walking from dark to light (the film literally causes this to happen at
one point when the camera follows Nica too quickly out into a sun-drenched
valley).
The main complaint levied against the film is that after the incident
the characters don’t communicate properly. This complaint is silly for two
reasons. One, I’m sure everyone has participated in conversations about what
you would do in X extreme situation. And, while we all like to think we would
act bravely in such scenarios, there is absolutely no way for us to be 100%
certain about how we would instinctively behave. Two, the
shifting mood of Nica and Alex is communicated, just not through dialogue.
Again, Loktev and her collaborators show their mastery over film form by
expressing the couple’s emotional confusion visually. They are helped by the subtle
changes in body and facial language that Furstenberg and Bernal employ. Before
the incident, Nica and Alex are usually shown together, with multiple focusing on their physical intimacy with each other. After the incident,
they appear in the same frame less frequently, and when they do, there are huge
amounts of space between them.
A quick example: In the first half of the film, there is a shot of Nica and Alex walking through a rocky valley as Alex runs Nica through some Spanish practice. Dato can be seen in the background of the shot.
During the second half of the film, the same shot is repeated, but with Nica and Dato conversing in the background and Alex relegated to the foreground trying in vain to eavesdrop on them.
I’m only half kidding when I say The
Loneliest Planet would make for an interesting date movie. Nica’s change in
demeanor, her response to the bifurcating event, and her withdrawal from Alex
and tentative steps toward Dato bring up all kinds of uncomfortable questions.
Later on, Alex tries to “prove” his masculinity and make up for his response
during the gun incident by rushing to Nica’s rescue when she falls in a river.
That scene becomes cringe-inducing when Nica refuses to go to Alex and paws
silently at Dato to continue holding her. Near the end of the film, Alex comes
close to sexually assaulting Nica after listening to her awkwardly kissing Dato
in a horrifying “I’m marking my territory” way.
Was it okay for Alex to hide
behind Nica? Was his reaction immediate or considered? Does that distinction
matter? Does Alex’s later repositioning fix his initial response? Would the
tone of the scene be different if instead Nica immediately jumped behind Alex? Will
this irreparably damage their relationship? Was their relationship that strong
to begin with? Does Dato recognize that he is pushing Nica towards him or is he
oblivious? I imagine if we could hear the characters thoughts some version of
these questions would be running through their heads. Thankfully, The Loneliest Planet offers few concrete
answers, and leaves both the characters, and the viewer, isolated by doubt, confusion, and uncertainty.
No comments:
Post a Comment