Love Diaz is a Filipino director and one of the most prominent contemporary representatives of "slow cinema." By definition, this is a motion in the cinema, characterized by long, uninterrupted footage, without distinct storyline or narrative. In short, most of the films that are members of this genre are quite long and difficult to watch. They require patience, concentration and detachment from the world. "The woman who left" falls exactly to this type of cinema. The duration of the movie is 3 hours 46 minutes. I guess if you are not familiar with the work of Diaz, you might think that this is his longest film. But, on the contrary, this is one of his shortest. Most range from five to seven, even nine hours. My decision to attend the screening of "The Woman Who Left" required preparation because I did not know what to expect. Still, the desire to touch Diaz's work and to experience a cinema that I am very familiar with prevailed. The film takes us to a Philippine prison, where Sorosorca is serving a 30-year sentence, wrongly charged for murder. In the wake of circumstances, she leaves the prison and decides to avenge Rodrigo Trinidad - the man who runs her in jail. Returning home, she learns of her husband's death and the disappearance of their son, but finds comfort and support in her daughter. So far, it sounds like a simple revenge story, which is so long and maybe even pretentious. But naming this movie a "story of revenge" would be an insult. And pretty cruel. It's much more than that - it's no closer to our familiar revenge movies, like "Kill Bill", "Gladiator", or "The Revenant".
So what is it then? Imagine a book that is representative of Russian literature in the nineteenth century. Now imagine it not in Russia, but in the Philippines. Ready. It is no coincidence that "The Woman Who Left" is inspired by Tolstoy's story "God sees the truth but is waiting". Typical of Russian literature is the subject of questions such as doubt in God, tragic guilt, the burden of conscience, morality and goodness, etc. The feeling I felt when I looked at it was similar to feeling after "Crime and Punishment" - only one is to read a Russian classic for five days, another for 3 hours and 46 minutes. The fact that Love Diaz manages to recreate the specific vibe of the Russian classics is worthy of bowing. I'm most interested in the director's choice of using static footage (similar to "Roy Anderson's second floor songs") mixed with black and white cinematography. For example, imagine a scene where the main character meets his daughter - the camera stays in the same place all the time, and the frame lasts about 5 minutes. Frames less than 5 minutes are rare, most of them are about 6-7, even 10. We have to allow the scenes to unfold, to show their full being, without feeling obliged to teach us, just to show us. Therefore, there is another thing about "slow cinema" is to observe an object for a long time. In fact, here comes the "problems" for the viewer. The result of static footage and black and white cinematography is the difficulty of seeing the heroes closely. It took me a long time to get some idea of what the main heroine looks like, not to mention the others. By putting the camera away from what's happening, the director hinders the viewer who is trying to penetrate the action, but realizes that this is impossible. The astonishing fact is that this contributes greatly to the tone and the atmosphere of the film. If Diaz had chosen the cinematography to be hand-held or colored, it would have been a completely different film that would not work so well.
It is also important to mention that this is the first role of Charo Santos-Consius for 17 years - the actress who plays Horace. The depth she reaches through her acting is simply insane given her hiatus. And why is Diaz's cinematographic choice so essential? Rhythm. Rhythm. And again rhythm. The Great Hanneke says, "Whatever story you tell,it's already told. So how can you affect the viewer? One of the possibilities is the rhythm - the cinema moves by it. That's why it's much closer to music than to literature. " The Filipino obviously understands Hanneke perfectly, because the way he repels us from his story (using static frames and black-and-white cinematography) is more and more involved (using the depth of his abstract narrative) is terribly successful. Against the backdrop of the main story - the path that Horace walks - there is another, much thinner and quietly set story. It hides social criticism that aims to force Diaz. The year in which the action is taking place is 1997 and this, of course, is no accident. Watching the film, we often learn about the problems of the public that are hinted at by radio or random passers-by. In 1997, the increase in kidnappings in the Philippines was terribly high, and with it the violence in society as a whole. We also learn about the deaths of Mother Teresa and Princess Diana, which increases world chaos. That's why the film succeeds not only on human and moral level, but also on social. I have mentioned the length of the scenes a few times, and I have to admit that some really made me much annoyed. There are scenes in which a character gets epileptic shock, writhing on the ground. For 5 minutes on the screen, we just see this. If some scenes such as this one were twice as short, they would have accomplished their purpose much better. Now they are also acting, but the effect is supplemented by irritation and desire to end. I guess that's exactly what I did not let myself immerse in the movie.
Horace is going through a long, transcendental way, filled with the question, "What is it like to be a man?" The change he goes through is so shocking and realistic that the spectator begins to doubt his perceptions of the world. The director himself says that the film can be tested most assertively, assuming that no one really understands life, but simply resigns to his accident. Diaz is a director with a specific look at the cinema, a worthy successor to Bella Tar, Robert Breson and Andrei Tarkovsky. His victory at the Venice festival in 2016, by slashing the Golden Lion, is completely deserved. His style runs through the viewer and does not leave him until the end. Only a true artist can create such a personal and real movie.
