Still Life

• October 18, 2011
• Article

18.10.2011 - "Si te duermes, se acaba, y no quieres que se acabe."

"If you go to sleep, it's over, and you don't want it to be over." Thus reads one of the oblique chapter titles of Seated by the Fire, the new film from Chilean director Alejandro Fernández Almendras. It might be a subtle reference to the terminal illness of one of the film's main characters, but it could also be urging the viewer to give this very quiet, abstract film its due. Some may wonder why they'd want to sit for 95 minutes and watch a film set in rural Chile in which it seems very little happens, but Almendras' command of his stylish naturalism - especially his ravishing visual representation of the countryside and his affectionate portraits of ordinary people - make Seated by the Fire compelling and rewarding. It's a case of still waters run deep.

The film, also known as By the Fire, premiered at last month's San Sebastian Film Festival and is showcased at ADFF this week. It's Almendras's second feature; his debut, Huacho, screened in competition at the Festival in 2009. I was captivated by the verve and visual flair with which Almendras presented the story of one relatively uneventful day in the life of a humble Chilean family. Sequences like the one in which an old woman makes fresh white cheese, then takes an exhausting trek on foot to sell it by the side of the road, resonated far beyond their apparent tedium - there was such a hypnotic quality in the tiniest details of her work, the impressionistic dappled sunshine, the soundtrack composed of birds singing and cattle lowing and cars rushing past.

Seated by the Fire mines a similar vein. From the first shot of sheep on a decrepit basketball court in an overgrown field on a bright autumn morning, we're enchanted by the sunlight, the crisp colors of the trees, grass and sky, the peaceful but faintly melancholy air of nature taking over. There's a long, dialogue-free sequence in which we follow Daniel (Daniel Muñoz) while he makes his rounds as a handyman on an empty rural estate, takes a smoke break by an algae-choked pond, retrieves a kitten from an abandonded clubhouse, then goes back to salvage a porcelain sink. This placid, meandering tone will continue for the rest of the film.

There are several marvellous shots of Daniel in the darkened clubhouse, framed by the doorway and the sunny exterior. Almendras and veteran cinematographer Inti Briones (who also shot Huacho) have exposed the images so that we can see Daniel working inside and still have a perfectly clear view of the trees and horses outside, as if the doorway is a lightbox. Moments like this are the essence of the film. One of Almendras' signature visual hooks is to turn the camera into the sun, rays of light fracturing into prismatic rainbows in the lens. Meanwhile, his vision may be rural but it's not quaint; machinery and artificial structures often form a striking part of the otherwise organic visual tableau, as in the shot of men chasing a sheep viewed through the geometric framework of a brightly-painted orange and blue radio tower.

As with Huacho, these exquisite exteriors are balanced by observant scenes of low-key human interaction. The camera is fixed in a room as people simply talk about their day or tell stories about their lives; it's a pleasure just to listen to the melody and cadence of their speech. Almendras shows great respect for his compañeros - their humor, their quiet forbearance. They are thoughtful, dignified people who happen to work for a living. Daniel is educated, but he seems to have fallen on hard times; he's been forced to sell his taxi and take another job as a farm laborer.

Meanwhile the film's surface tranquility belies a strong undercurrent of sadness. It turns out Daniel's wife Alejandra (Alejandra Yañez, who also starred in Huacho) is ill. Through snatches of conversation, and things left unsaid, we gather she is dying. In addition to his multiple jobs, Daniel is her caretaker. It's a struggle, but a quiet one, made up of day-to-day routine. There's very little conflict as in a conventional drama; just a series of impressions. The stillness and quiet add up as the film goes on to create a sense of foreboding; the birdsong and rustling leaves remind us of our mortality.

Beneath its stillness, Seated by the Fire is all about life in transition. The story arc takes place over the course of a year, and is divided into chapters based on the seasons. We experience each season vividly, from Daniel's perspective out in the fields, harvesting wheat in the summer and cutting undergrowth in the autumn. He grows a beard. Their hardship weighs on him. He starts becoming detached from his sick wife. The kitten rescued at the beginning becomes a marker of the passage of time, becoming a full-grown cat as Alejandra's health worsens, often lurking at the edge of the frame as the humans interact quietly. Seasons and chapters pass, and we get a sense of a tragedy told in a series of anecdotes - and beyond that, a powerful sense, both somber and transcendent - that life goes on.

Seated by the Fire screens at Vox Cinemas, Marina Mall, on Wednesday, October 19 at 6:45pm and Saturday, October 22 at 1:30pm. Director Alejandro Fernández Almendras will be present at both screenings to introduce the film and to answer audience questions afterwards.