Between Georgia and the Republic of Abkhazia is the Inguri River.

In spring during the melting of the ice, the water brings downstream an endless amount of debris that is deposited on the river, thus forming temporary islands.

These seasonal formations are in fact made up of very fertile substances and allow those who engage in them to derive nourishment throughout the following winter.

A war of secession plagues Georgia while an old farmer who is left with an orphaned teenage granddaughter cultivates one of these islands.

Tirelessly, he builds a shack and through sheer hard work defies the fortunes of nature. The granddaughter is often ogled by army men while a wounded rebel is tended to by the elderly farmer.

Majestic cinematography and an almost total absence of dialogue succeed in telling a fratricidal struggle between Georgians and rebels; an unconditional and protective love of the grandfather for his granddaughter in search of emotions dictated by body changes; a relentlessly redundant everyday life, a cruel poverty, a life punctuated by a generous and fierce nature, a skin furrowed by the dilated and exhausting rhythms.

The gaze is attentive and precise, never distracted by the inessential. As essential is that expiring land that produces corn and speaks only its own language.

A lesson in life forgotten by our world now the realm of the superfluous.

A small boat, some fish and a rudimentary fire for embers; while that minimal life project must surrender before the finish line.

Endless labor, gazes, waits, echoes and sounds of nature raise a myriad of intimate and unashamed questions. A poem of poignant images tells of a reality so distant and so intrusive.

Nominated for an Oscar for best foreign film.

A sober, necessary, disturbing film in which the Kantian mathematical sublime meets the dynamic as nature dictates the moral.

20-Aug-2023 by Beatrice