River (2021) dir. Jennifer Peedom & Joseph Nizeti
River isn’t really a documentary, it’s more of an artistic collaboration of musicians, cinematographers, writers, and an actor.
What results is somewhere between Baraka, a David Attenborough doco, and the video accompaniment to a poetic call-to-arms. This film is evidently intended as a visual and aural hymn to the sanctity of our waterways.
The voice-over narration features the earthy tones of actor Willem Dafoe (a perfect choice) reading words by the popular British nature writer Robert Macfarlane. But the soundscape of the film is mostly filled with lush and almost unceasing music (both classic and contemporary compositions) from the Australian Chamber Orchestra and longtime collaborator William Barton.
Despite the soundtrack, I found River an overwhelmingly visual experience. The gorgeous cinematography makes skilled use of aerial and drone shots as well as archival footage. There is a beautiful sequence in the first part of the film in which a drone shot weaves over the crevasses of a glacier then turns and follows the tumbling meltwater bubbling and surging over the sheer mountainside. It’s impossible not to feel a sense of joy and wonder as the cascading music of Vivaldi accompanies the descent; the soaring movements of both water and sound.
Nevertheless at times I felt myself wanting more periods of silence and raw natural soundscape to contemplate the images and words. The addition of the music felt overwrought at times in its incessancy.
There were moments of beautiful poeticism, poignance, and brilliance in the words of the narration, however there were also times when I found Macfarlane’s words repetitive. What I really wanted was a little more practicality, microdetail, or focus, rather than the generalism which risked descent into platitudes at times. It was interesting to read in the end credits that the film drew inspiration from Scottish writer Nan Shepherd, because I feel that the film could have learned more from the work of both Nan Shepherd and poets like Mary Oliver who are marked as great for their ability to link the small, individual, quotidian experience of nature to the grand and universal. This film attempts the latter while forgetting the former.
Although there is footage of many interesting locations a keen eye may be familiar with, none of the footage is referenced explicitly in the voiceover. This is frustrating at times, because sometimes it appears to relate to the narrative, and other times the footage is unrelated - and this is at worst misleading. An example is beautiful footage of the ruined pagodas of Bagan, on the banks of the Irrawaddy (Ayerwaddy) River in Myanmar, as well as clips of Burmese Buddhist monks crossing what may be either the river or another waterway such as Inle Lake. This footage is accompanied by narration which refers to how people in ancient cities used to worship rivers. Although many Burmese have long held animist beliefs, it is quite harmful to mislead viewers to conflate these with Buddhist practice and architecture. So you see, the film’s editing (both sound and video) didn’t quite pass the critic’s eye!
What is impressive is how the film made an effort to centre indigenous perspectives and disrupt prevailing anthropocene attitudes of domination and control. Writer Melissa Lucashenko is credited as indigenous consultant, and the narration beautifully frames human responsibility for rivers as seeing ourselves as upstream ancestors in the river of time who need to be mindful of our downstream legacy for our descendants.
An alluvial paean magnificat, despite some follies, worth watching - and definitely catch it at the cinema if you can to do justice to the visuals!