Todas as Estradas de Terra têm Gosto de Sal

Raven Jackson's All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt is a cinematic experience that demands immersion. Every frame is a deliberate brushstroke, from the delicate details of Mack's grandmother's earrings to the sun-kissed texture of her braided hair. The rhythmic symphony of crickets, birdsong, and rumbling thunder serves as a soundtrack to the joys and sorrows of life in rural Mississippi.

Jackson's camera lingers on everyday gestures, weaving a tapestry of a vibrant community where culture sings through church hymns and shared laughter. The film transcends simplistic labels, embracing both joy and pain, prolife and prochoice, in its exploration of humanity's yearning for something greater. It's a love letter to Black history and resilience, whispering untold stories through the rustle of leaves and the intricate patterns of braided hair.

More than just a movie, All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt is a sensory journey that will leave you swept away by its vivid portrayal of a rich culture, its unflinching honesty about life's struggles, and its ultimately hopeful message about the shared human spirit. This is a film that lingers in the mind and heart long after the credits roll, leaving you breathless with the desire to connect with your own story, your own people, and your own yearning for a brighter tomorrow.

I just couldn't for the life of me understand why the director would choose to shoot most, if not all, scenes in such a close up fashion. And then have that very annoying cricket sound in the background of almost all the scenes. It was soooooo irritating. Then you have scenes where no word is spoken for so long, you thought the movie had ended. Then you had the non-lineal approach which just made things worse. Half the time you don't know what you are watching because of the useless close ups and then half the time, you didn't know what's going on because no one is saying anything. Ridiculous.

When creating a film that's best described as experimental, ambition goes a long way toward the fulfillment of that goal. However, it's not enough to carry the project if it doesn't have something meaningful or profound to say in the end product, and that, unfortunately, is what's missing from the premiere effort from poet Raven Jackson in her writing/directing feature debut. This offering is perhaps best characterized as a visual tone poem examining the decades-long life of an African-American woman in rural Mississippi from childhood to becoming a grandmother. It's light on narrative and seeks to tell its story visually, relying more on showing than telling, a noble undertaking, to be sure. Nevertheless, the picture leans on its imagery so heavily that it often fails to convey anything of real substance, despite its visual beauty and some obviously heartfelt sequences in which the principals' emotions are indeed palpable and affecting. In between, though, the sequences begin to feel padded after a while, striving to capture profound insights through events that are too innately incidental to express anything truly enlightening, reflective or philosophically rich. Instead, it offers viewers a biographical look at one individual's ties to the people, places and everyday events that made up her life, a depiction that, regrettably, plays more like a home movie with arthouse treatment. This is perhaps best exemplified by a nearly 10-minute sequence of a hug that, frankly, grows stunningly tedious in far less time than that. I suspect that these shortcomings probably arise from the filmmaker being too close to her own subject matter, given that many of the characters in this story are based on the lives of people from her own family and ancestors. Those elements may be deeply moving to her, but they don't translate into material that would mean much to those outside her own immediate circle. With that said, however, this release is not without its merits, most notably its gorgeous cinematography and beautiful original score. Beyond that, though, "All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt" is likely to try the patience of many viewers, including those willing to give a chance to its attempt at an alternative inventive approach. This truly feels more like a film or art school project than something that would appeal to even the most ardent of diehard open-minded cinephiles. And that's unfortunate, because I'm sure there's an interesting story buried somewhere within this material. Sadly, it never surfaces but remains camouflaged in its own artistic trappings.

Once in a while, a film comes along that is inspiring and an example of fine story telling. All Dirt Roads Taste Of Salt is not one of them. While it runs a tad over 90 minutes it seems a lot longer. I saw it at the Melbourne International Film Festival where we were invited by the emcee to 'let it wash over you'. Goodness me. I had to work hard to not drown in the many, many shots that seemed to last forever, and which were in semi darkness. Largely unhampered by a coherent script or storyline, this movie had a lovely soundscape of bugs chirruping, raIn and storms, but for me that was it. Once your mind is overcome with trying to figure out what is happening and switches to 'How long has this to go?' mode, all is lost. A number of people left, some quite early, and many more didn't wait for the director's talk at the end. Needless to say I was one of them. A movie should be able to stand on its own legs and not need explanation. Life's too short.

All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt is a bold, visual mosaic of a Black girl/woman's life in rural Mississippi, a summation of individual memories of love, heartbreak, grief, and life events told in a nonlinear stream of consciousness. Cinematically, the patient film stays longingly on key moments of her life, most typically moments of connection in embraces or holding hands. The music of nature and strings peacefully bind the movie together. Story wise, I found this movie very hard to get engaged in. Indeed, as a reflection of life, memories do not organize themselves in linearly, instead being a composition of moments at different times for periods long and short. But with little narrative to draw us in and care about Mack and the characters, these patient moments of longing instead often felt unnecessarily slow. I give the filmmaker credit for this bold vision and I appreciate the film on those merits, even though ultimately this film was not for me.