Aquarela (2019): Remarkable Cinema of Attraction

Aquarela is an incredible visual and sound experience! Almost too much so. Made by a team led by the award winning,  Russian-born director-cinematographer-editor Victor Kossakofsky, it is a powerful sensory tour de force. Without ever mentioning our global warming catastrophe, the picture is a stunning reminder of what’s at stake; of both the breathtaking beauty of our world and of the earth’s awesome, terrible power to destroy us.

As the title suggests, Aquarela is about water. We humans are made up of approximately seventy percent water; more pertinently, water covers more than seventy percent of the earth’s surface. Kossakovsky’s aim, he says , was “to film every possible emotion that can be experienced while interacting with water – beautiful emotions along with unsettling emotions, of ecstasy and inspiration as well as destruction and human devastation.” To keep us interested he has largely eschewed the subtler emotions, such as we experience slipping into a warm bath or sipping crystal clear water from a stream, in favor of the more dramatic, awe inspiring varieties. Kossakovsky again: “I’m asking you to give me 90 minutes of your precious time. [So] I will give you something you have never experienced before. I have to believe what you are going to see and feel will be things you haven’t seen like this before.

Shooting largely from remote locations around the world, from Siberia to Venezuela, from Northern ice floes to the tropics, we are treated to extraordinary photography capturing the force and grandeur of H₂O in its many forms. Great roiling oceans with mighty, towering waves (seen from a 100 foot sailing schooner which appeared puny in comparison); Greenland’s massive groaning, melting glaciers; icebergs the size of Manhattan, bobbing in the dark sea like some glorious, ethereal, ice sculptures; remote, towering Angel Falls, the world’s tallest continuous waterfall, with a plunge of almost 2400 feet (nearly one half mile); a category 5 hurricane battering Miami in 2017; and much more.

One of the calling cards of Aquarela is that it was filmed at the rate of 96 frames per second, rather  than the century old standard of 24 fps. But why shoot at double or quadruple the speed of ordinary movies? It’s alleged to be sharper , smoother and – if done correctly – more life-like than the current standard. Kossakovsky says that because water is so continuous, one can’t realistically capture it at 24 fps. 96 “allows you to see a single rain drop in a way you are not expecting.” Not that he actually shows us a rain drop in isolation. “You can put the camera inches from a sheet of ice and move it very quickly, and it will not feel bumpy and you won’t see stroboscoping [a jittery quality]. Actually you will feel like you are flying above the ice.”

I don’t know if all that makes pictures shot at a much higher frame speed more realistic or “better”; I haven’t done a side-by-side comparison. But I can say that this particular film looks astoundingly good. But here’s the thing: There are no commercial theaters capable of showing movies filmed at that 96 fps, so the filmmakers are anticipating more than a little bit.  On the other hand, wherever possible the picture will be shown at theaters equipped with 48 fps projection, like AMC’s Dolby Theaters. This is not just for the video quality, but for the incredible sound as well. If there is one near you, I’d recommend you go there to fully experience Aquarela.

Ninety minutes is not long for a feature film. But then, most feature films, even documentaries, have some sort of narrative - a story arc of some sort. But Aquarela eschews story and pretty much all narration. There is no voice-over, no talking heads, not even any on screen text. As the photography takes us from place to place, we have no idea where we are. I only know, for example that the opening scenes in the movie are at Lake Baikal in Siberia, because I read about it after the fact. Although some of the later sections of the movie are more astounding and more beautiful than the Lake Baikal scenes – which are themselves quite remarkable – this first section is the most approachable and most satisfying because there is a bit of a story to them. In the process of filming there, Kossakovsky and company came across workers pulling sunken vehicles from the icy waters. Apparently, the frozen lake is a short cut for the locals during the winter months, but in 2017 when this was filmed, the thaw began earlier than usual. Watching how the men locate and then haul cars from the depths through holes in the ice was fascinating in its own right.   During the process, the crew and we see another vehicle speeding across the frozen vastness until it too hits a treacherous spot and a human drama ensues.

Still, in its approach to movie form, much of Aquarela resembles more than anything what film historians refer to as the “cinema of attraction” – the earliest period of movies, in which the audience is shown something amazing – a giant locomotive pulling into the station or a burning building, for example. No story or narration was needed because in those days the simple fact that people were seeing amoving picture was thrilling. Modern audiences, using myself as a representative sample, expect something more. As astounding as the photography and sound are in Aquarela, an hour and a half of sitting and watching, without any form of narration or context, is too much. It seemed longer than that.

Still, this film is a visual/auditory/sensory delight, and certainly one of a kind. If you are interested, I’d suggest that before you go you first read up a bit about where and how it was filmed. That way you can provide your own context and narration.

90 minutes.                                         Rated PG

Grade: A for imagery, B overall

Currently playing in NY and LA areas. Opens Friday August 23, 2019 in San Francisco and the DC area,then opening more widely in select movie houses beginning August 3, and over subsequent weeks. Check HERE for a theater near you.