In an intense close-up, a terrified cow ambles down the narrow steel passage that leads to its death. The animal’s distressed cries are only punctuated by the blast of the captive bolt pistol that will soon end its life. In this close-up, we focus on the cow’s wide eyes; its frantic breathing. It’s an intense, difficult to watch sequence that establishes the dark world that forms the setting of the surreal journey of our hero, Olivia (Tina Sconochini).
Olivia and her father live alone together in a fantastical triangular house in the country. Every day he journeys to the abattoir where he works, leaving her to explore her own attitude to nature and death at home with wasp-factory-esque pseudo-rituals. She practices painlessly killing insects, mimicking her father’s profession. The two share few words in their sparse quotidian routine, but his absence is immediately disturbing, stranding Olivia, severing her from her only connection to the outside world, forcing her to undertake a journey into the unknown.
Olivia says very little but listens with a great emotional interiority. Tina Sconochini plays Olivia with a childlike curiosity and wide-eyed innocence that seems to disarm all she encounters. Director Sofia Petersen populates the darkly fairytale landscape with eccentric characters, some played by non-professional actors, each of whom assist Olivia in her journey, though none-so-much as the spectre of her missing parents who haunt every frame.
Petersen’s use of 16mm Ektachrome film stock creates a sense of mystical realism’ an alien quality to a familiar world, locking us within Olivia’s experience. Petersen practices deliberate pacing to create a dreamlike quality reminiscent of Hadžihalilović. In long, surreal sequences, Olivia’s fear and wonder is expressed through image and sound. Utsav Lal’s score is especially effective here, lending the journey a haunting, playful quality.
Four Stars