We entered the abandoned auditorium of an amateur cinema without knowing that we paid for double tragedy. We had envisioned a journey from birth to death, not expecting that both: beginning and end would include unresolved tragedies.
Shot in the eerie style of better horror film days, the cinematic grip holds us down with fragment story telling. The narrative seems chaotic until a red thread appears in muddy waters. We did not mind the stereotypical colour games which sell out the colour red.
The editing succeeds in unearthly linking mother and son. This construction of a double vision enticed our lazy eyes. To melt both characters into each other while constructing for both a very different melt down convinced us of unique cinematic moments.
Mother and son are fascinating because both explore the grey zones of neither/nor. They are not, however, painted as complex entities beyond comprehension. Instead, they inhabit the "greyness" of being emotionally confusing. Who is guilty? Who made the mistake? We are asked to answer and to divide our sympathies. But at the same time it is clear that there is no easy way out. Everything we see could already be the result of tragedy. There is no objectivity. There is no moment untouched by pain. So, how can we form an unprejudiced opinion? Our roller-coaster ride turns out to be the aftershock. But this is no secret: from the beginning we are told we are heading towards tragedy.
Mother and son are compelling us to remain seated. But Tilda holds everything together. She keeps us wondering. She is even more multi-faceted than you could have expected. In our minds we built her monuments while watching every step.
We keep guessing even though the film is long over. These cinematic characters do not stop polluting our thoughts. One day we will return to the amateur cinema. Whether we will be sitting in the silence of a lit screen or in the noise of a lit auditorium, this film haunts us.
Shot in the eerie style of better horror film days, the cinematic grip holds us down with fragment story telling. The narrative seems chaotic until a red thread appears in muddy waters. We did not mind the stereotypical colour games which sell out the colour red.
The editing succeeds in unearthly linking mother and son. This construction of a double vision enticed our lazy eyes. To melt both characters into each other while constructing for both a very different melt down convinced us of unique cinematic moments.
Mother and son are fascinating because both explore the grey zones of neither/nor. They are not, however, painted as complex entities beyond comprehension. Instead, they inhabit the "greyness" of being emotionally confusing. Who is guilty? Who made the mistake? We are asked to answer and to divide our sympathies. But at the same time it is clear that there is no easy way out. Everything we see could already be the result of tragedy. There is no objectivity. There is no moment untouched by pain. So, how can we form an unprejudiced opinion? Our roller-coaster ride turns out to be the aftershock. But this is no secret: from the beginning we are told we are heading towards tragedy.
Mother and son are compelling us to remain seated. But Tilda holds everything together. She keeps us wondering. She is even more multi-faceted than you could have expected. In our minds we built her monuments while watching every step.
We keep guessing even though the film is long over. These cinematic characters do not stop polluting our thoughts. One day we will return to the amateur cinema. Whether we will be sitting in the silence of a lit screen or in the noise of a lit auditorium, this film haunts us.