Banishment (2007, Zvyagintsev)

"Banishment" is such an astonishingly beautiful film that it is with certain regret that I admit it is a let down of storytelling, though not of filmaking. For those who have seen Russian director Andrei Zvyagintsev's previous feature - "The Return", an ambiguous tale of a father's reunion with his two sons (absolutely brilliant in every way possible), this film too will either seem agonizingly slow or spell bindingly evocative in its stark, striking minimalism. The first 30 minutes of the film are important - they not just set the mood, the tone, the overall pace, but also your willingness to observe and think more than just listen and watch. This portion is also important because it gives impact to the remainder of the film and its main theme of infidelity.

Like "The Return", "Banishment" builds and promises to explode. That it does with a revelation that is so preposterous and out of bounds with anything that normal characters would ever do is probably because it strives to be too ambitious without being realistic. The silent pauses between conversations, brisk as they are, take up the space of eternity and weigh heavily on viewers thoughts. I found myself agreeing with Alex (also the father in "The Return") when he decided not to meet his brother in the city (of a nameless, almost barren country) after asking him to wait for him at a bar. This is what people would do when they are utterly confused. They want to talk to someone immediately, but not before they've had the time to incubate their own thoughts. The entire premise is constructed upon layers and layers of fragility based on what is not spoken, but implied. The film demands we get into the head of its characters, but sometimes what we find in there is senseless, even though I'm sure there are justifications on an existential level that might be able to explain everything that eventually happens, despite all my reservations to accept it as a sane possibility.

Even though I cannot accept what the film is about, I am in awe of how it is made. There are numerous odes to Tarkovsky (a tracking shot inside a moving car is probably inspired by 'Solaris') and the painterly strokes are reason enough for anyone with an appreciation for natural visuals to pick this up. On the merits and strengths of its aesthetics alone, the film deserves to be seen and talked about.

Rating: 3.5/5