Violet

I have always been intrigued by how a film’s formal aspects, its material aspects, can dictate its content. Light and shadow, sound and silence, time and space change the meaning of what is being shown. However, the way in which this is done is highly enigmatic and apparently impossible to grasp. I am often moved not by what I see but by how it reaches me, says Bas Devos, and he shows this in his feature-film debut, which is part Paranoid Park, part slow cinema. Violet is told through pictures, not words. The story of 15-year-old Jesse, who has to cope with witnessing the death of his friend, is a string of long, colorful shots. The meticulous look of images inspired by contemporary photography can be alienating. It forces audiences to view the boy’s grief from afar, with no warmth. The film’s main protagonist is also alienated, as he is accused of being a coward by the BMX group that he rides with. The tense situation resolves itself slowly. And the key to interpreting the film may just be the song Violet by Deafheaven.

Robert Mróz