Below Sea Level by Gianfranco Rosi

In the middle of the Californian nowhere, in a desert far away from civilisation, a bunch of stranded individuals form an obscure community. There are no houses, electricity or water, no government, and no cops, but you can find a beauty salon and a pet-graveyard. Some of the people who live there are looking for freedom and security outside the towns, but most of them just want to forget.

Some kind of personal disaster brought each of them here on their own. Yet although everyone is seeking the healing power of solitude, their paths cross and they become neighbours, friends and lovers – not without keeping a certain distance, being unable to overcome protective mechanism of distrust learned over the years. Some of our protagonists’ stories get told, some remain unsaid.

It’s especially fascinating to discover how ‘Bus Kenny’, Lili the doctor, ‘Bulletproof’ and the others developed their own strategies to face life and how they created their own theories on existence and fate. When ‘Insane Wayne’ - the community’s ‘late Nietzsche’ - talks about killing god, while his friend Mike comments “Life is good - the only thing that bothers me is mice” we understand that Below Sea Level is also a philosophical film - about the philosophy of the unfortunates, the failed ones.

Although we gain extremely intimate insights into these people’s lives, the camera is far from voyeuristic or sensation-seeking. It just feels truthful, real. A refreshing experience in times of pseudo-fiction, mockumentaries, documentary-soaps and other dilutions.

In fact we don’t pay too much attention to understanding how Rosi placed the camera in especially delicate situations or how he made his protagonists forget the camera, we just want to listen to these people who seem so strong. So much so that we have to be careful not to be dragged in by a certain romanticism of their situation – that of life Below Sea Level.

Overall, a remarkable film on the fundamentals of human existence.

Arne Kohlweyer