Baraka
I’d never seen Ron Fricke’s 1992 documentary Baraka, and only knew about it that it was one of a kind, so I got curious when I saw that the Berlinale was showing it as part of its retrospectives I decided to get a ticket for it. Mark Magidson, the film producer, was there for a Q/A session.
Turns out it wasn’t just a presentation of the film, but the first-ever projection from a new 70mm print. With DTS sound. Displayed on a huge screen.
If you haven’t seen it, the film is basically a slideshow of film vignettes set to music, filmed in about 26 countries. There isn’t a single word of explanation, and the effect of the impeccable montage superimposed with the music is stunning: since it is almost impossible to know immediately where each scene comes from, or what it will switch to in the next few seconds, you spend the whole movie wondering – is that Brazil or Indonesia? Mexico or Morocco? The stratification alternates between the obvious and the obscure, with the latter never detracting from the film, since one of its intentions seems to be precisely to have you question why the image is there and what your preconceptions about it are. Is the tattooed asian a yakuza gangster, or meant to be one, or is he just another example of how we brand ourselves to indicate our tribe, much like the young Australian aboriginals early in the film?
My only regret is I saw it sober.