AVENIR

As the technical capacity of cinema grows ever greater, it’s more discouraging than ever to see the same old tropes and techniques trotted out for our viewing (dis)pleasure. Studio productions stick to the same, sellable themes, and independent productions cave to the pressure of the monolith of marketability.

 

Fitting into an already-overused mould is seen as the only viable way of securing a return on your art. Taking artistic risks is seen as the pursuit of a privileged few, for whom the financial risks are considerably lower. And so, commerce dictates what art may be produced, and what art may be seen.

 

It’s this kind of restrictive culture that can keep a true maverick like Roz Mortimer from making a feature for over a decade, and what can also make her return to filmmaking such an exciting prospect. And she delivers on that excitement with The Deathless Woman, her ambitious new feature.

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Crimes buried in the shallow graves of the recent past rise to the surface of the poisoned earth, carrying with them the clarity of truth to cut through the pain that has tormented a continent for 80 years. Mortimer's sorrowful, startling documentary delves into the topic of Nazi massacres of Roma people in Eastern Europe.

 

Initially, it proceeds with tentative, inquisitive curiosity; then eventually with a protracted, dolorous wail of rage. It's a rage of several generations, swollen to bursting point now that Europe takes a sudden, turn back toward the extremism that first caused it.

 

As with so many movies that turn to the past, The Deathless Woman inevitably reflects back a picture of the present – in this case a troubling one. Yet Mortimer is careful not to belabour this point. Rather, with intense specificity, she engenders the kind of profound thoughts and emotions in the viewer that transform said specificity into universality. The Deathless Woman speaks to anyone and everyone, in any and every time.

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Mortimer's approach is analytical yet sensitive, allowing for the feverous heat of her impassioned anger to blaze ever hotter as it makes itself clearer. What makes this such a distinctive take on the topic is her vibrant experimental style, manipulating form and visual content to highly effective purposes. She flits between perspectives, presenting the camera as both classically non-intrusive observer and as a depiction of an individual POV.

 

We observe ‘the seeker’ as she (literally) unearths information about Nazi killings in Poland and Hungary; we also sit across from her at a table, a disembodied voice acting as interrogator as she recounts her findings into the lens. We observe the titular ‘deathless woman’ lying in her earthy grave; the, in remarkable aerial shots, we effectively become this woman. Her fury at her killers has sustained her for decades, and now her spirit rises above the earth that has long entrapped her. Mortimer’s camera swoops across landscapes or through corridors, jolting in different directions to a soundtrack of electronic and mechanical manipulations. It’s a bizarre, fabulous effect, and it’s underused.

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The theme that emerges from all this creative expression is that of how egregious atrocity is manifested over time, and an extra perspective allows survivors and their descendants to tell their mournful tales directly to Mortimer, the movie here adopting a more classic documentary style. If The Deathless Woman feels torn between its striking experimentalism and these more prosaic, plaintive, enormously moving scenes, its refusal to reconcile their differences is also what maintains their power.

 

There’s no denying the earnestness of Mortimer’s intentions either, though occasionally her execution falters. The aforementioned interrogation-style scenes are cumbersome, a case of an experiment gone slightly awry. The didactic scripting is one issue, yet it’s overshadowed by some risible acting.

 

 

 

 

 

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And yet The Deathless Woman stays on track. It deftly utilises these otherwise unfortunate scenes for the information they supply in quick, uncomplicated fashion. The purpose behind this fine, fascinating movie remains true, and Mortimer’s technique in expressing it relentlessly original and largely persuasive. What’s even more persuasive and appealing about this movie, however, is its very existence.

 

It took Mortimer 12 years to get her second feature documentary made, after 2007's Invisible. However, if that’s how long it takes to raise her creative spirit above the muddy mess of commercial concerns (and what a brazenly uncommercial movie this is), then it was worth the wait.

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2019, 89 mins (Wonderdog Productions)