Atanarjuat: O Corredor

Have you ever seen a movie in which now and then you see a man urinating and it has no special function?

This film implies absolute purity. It is maximal naturalism in the middle of nowhere, at a place that seems do dream-like, so little real to most of us. As most stories set in very cold and barren regions, Atanarjuat has that touch of existentialism. And really, the story is quite simple, a classic family revenge plot like they are often peopled by Ancient Greek gods and goddesses.

In the beginning, you have no idea what it is all about and who is in which way related to whom – actually all the characters look the same in their thick clothes. But it doesn't really matter because you get enchanted by the beauty of the combination of light and snow, white and yellow, and maybe by the interesting sound of Inuktitut, the Canadian Inuit's language. Or by the sound of their boots as they press the snow again and again. Quite a lot to be impressed with.

Slowly – very slowly, the plot unfolds, the characters gain image, and you become completely absorbed into a mysterious and strange legend that happened long-long ago and aat a place very distant from us, both geographically and mentally.

Interesting enough that, after the end of the actual story, the filmmakers attached some `making-of' shots as they are quite commonly known from Jackie Chan movies. Suddenly, we see the people we just got to know wearing modern clothes and making jokes. And this seems weird to us. Before we leave the theatre, we are gently lead back to reality.

A man runs naked across a plain of ice and snow, his feet bloody and his eyes desperate as he glances back at his hunters. When he falls, even having just come in from the sweltering summer heat, you feel the cold.

This is the best scene in ‘Atanarjuat, the Fast Runner', a movie very different from any other you will have seen. What makes it so special is that it is about and made entirely by the Inuit of Canada. It immerses you in the harsh, nearly desolate world of a tiny Arctic community.

In such a small group, where a few families live in confined spaces, tensions can be explosive. The story is centered around the rivalry of Atanarjuat and Oki over Atuat, a rivalry which echoes that of their fathers, Tulimaq or Sauri, for leadership of the tribe. In the prologue to the main story we see Sauri assassinate his father with the aid of an evil spirit who continues to haunt the tribe. The struggles of the families of Tulimaq and Sauri lead to a betrayal and a murder that sends the naked man running across the ice.

It is a good story, though it is long, slow and sometimes hard to follow. What makes it so memorable is the remarkable lifestyle that it makes seem so real. From dogsleds and ritual combat to seduction and exorcism, we see many of the facets of pre-modern Inuit life, which was built entirely on just two things: water and the flesh and bones of Arctic animals. The acting is completely convincing, the music is sparingly but powerfully used and the cinematography captures both the beauty and cruelty of that vast wilderness in the north of the world. It is something far from the conventions of Hollywood and if you have the patience, you will find it fascinating.

7/10

It tells a legend from the two thousand years ago, about Atanarjuat, who incurs the jealous enmity of Oki when he marries Atuat… Oki kills Atanarjuat's brother, but Atanarjuat escapes in a stunning sequence, running naked across the ice floes, outstripping his pursuers until, his feet torn and bloody, he is taken in by a friendly sorcerer…

The motion picture concedes nothing in the way of authenticity, with sequences that show in realistic detail the training of sled-dogs, cutting up animal carcasses or making an igloo… But the convincing ethnographic elements only serve to intensify the compelling story and characters, which take on a truly epic dimension…

If the purpose of a national cinema is to represent the culture of the peoples it belongs to, then "Atanarjuat" achieves this victoriously, both the content of the film and the manner of its telling being wholly specific to Canada, yet in the process achieving a universal appeal

How many times have you heard this philosophy in film: `All I have is memory'? `The Fast Runner' is just such a memory film of the Iglooik people telling a 1000 year-old story of feuding brothers, unfaithful wives, and patricide most foul. The beginning voiceover says, "I can only say this story to someone who understands it."

If it sounds like `King Lear' or `Hamlet,' it's not quite Shakespeare but close. It is as close to today's internecine and global wars as any other movie you will see this year.

Set against the vast, frozen, flat, brilliantly-lit Arctic Circle, this tragic tale slowly reveals a small family circle that must deal with their crimes without the help of kings or counselors or cops. They have only themselves, and despite that, or perhaps because of it, they must work out solutions that not only do not disintegrate the circle but also mete out the punishment satisfactorily.

A naked man running for his life for 15 hours over the frozen tundra is an enduring image; two men alternately hitting each other in the face, waiting for the blows, is as unusual a fight scene as you will ever see. It's all a part of the heavily ritualized culture, where breaking from the norm is a critical occurrence. Everyone sleeping in the same tent lends a new meaning to family unity. Forgiveness for heinous crime is a lesson still to be learned by far more advanced cultures.

I was moved by the grandeur of last year's epic `Himalaya.' This year's extraordinary `Fast Runner' has given that film a run for its money. The humanity of the characters, both good and bad, and the dazzlingly vistas make this film memorable. Don't miss the outtakes at the closing credits and the shots of the very modern actors who so convincingly play first-millennium Inuits.

`The Fast Runner' deserved the Camera d'OR for best first film at Cannes.

Set in an Inuit settlement deep in the Arctic Circle, this film is about one problem in particular: evil. This film examines its origins and consequences. It also makes a profound assertion: that the way to get rid of evil is not with more evil, but with forgiveness.

Since all the action takes place within the physical and cultural confines of a Stone Age culture, one might think that the drama lacks emotional depth, vigor, or subtlety. On the contrary, perhaps it's because the movie is bereft of theatrical embellishments and stratagems, the problem comes all the more clearly into focus. Despite the wide cultural divide between the Postmodern world of the twenty first century and the primitive world of our hunter-gatherer forebears, we easily identify with the main characters: their hopes, fears, and ambitions. For that reason alone, Atanarjuat is a remarkable movie.

With respect to the problem of evil, however, what I really love about the film is its emotional complexity, which one wouldn't expect from a three-hour epic revolving around the daily lives of a Stone Age culture. On one level, there is the Shaman and his curse. It's part of the package that comes with the religious beliefs of the people. If one believes in the ability of dead ancestors to come and render assistance to the living, it's also possible for spirits to bring calamity and misfortune to the same. In this film, beliefs that for me are about as tangible as a ghost in a fog come alive.

On another level, Atanarjuat, like Hamlet, delves deep into the origins of evil within the human heart. Good old family values such as love, affection, greed, lust, and murder, come clearly into focus. We're left with judgments about what is right and wrong – judgments that the clan reaches from within the internal logic of its own values – but also with understanding.