Le Quattro Volte by Michelangelo Frammartino

From the beginnings of artistic expression, tightly linked to the very first days of mankind, human beings have always been the measure of all things, the reference par excellence. A tree is tall because it is taller than us, the rules of the golden ratio are perfectly matched to our heads, and if I say "Gimme a close shot", the frame is set according to my actor’s face.

Later, centuries of physics gave us vertiginous scales, stars and galaxies, as well as atoms, molecules and all kinds of subatomic particles. Things we’ll never see nor grasp, and yet they seem to be of enough interest to form part of our early education. With Le Quattro Volte (The Four Times), set in Calabria, Italy, a land permeated by tradition and ancient modernity, Michelangelo Frammartino takes us back to the essence of human scale: what is within our reach and how the nature we rule over and admire is in fact staring right back at us.

The film starts by following the routine of an elderly shepherd, days before his death. This first cycle, the human life, is a focus on a man who lives with and is dependent on nature. Just like his goats, he defecates in the fields; he is silent in his solitude, and it doesn’t take long to understand that the sound of his animals is the ruling language here. When he passes away, they are the witnesses of his peaceful death; at the same moment a goat kid is born, with such violence that the transition suggests a brutal reincarnation. The second cycle has begun, and we embark on a journey as sole spectators of the animal, vegetable and mineral life.

"If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" Science and even philosophy propose the theory that things would have to be perceived to exist. Le Quattro Volte is not taking position, it simply shows and depicts, letting you judge for yourself. The camera’s lens is a pair of eyes: our only consciousness, a steady perception that we grip our sight onto as we wander through landscapes as if we were invisible. Even in the scenes where we see dozens of humans cutting down a tree and celebrating the "Pita" tradition, it seems that they are no more significant than any other form of life - a feeling we often get when we are standing high above the ground and comparing the masses of folk down below to little ants.

Telling a story empty of dialogue in 88 minutes - and with protagonists that include a dog, a tree and a trail of smoke - makes Frammartino a real talent of associative editing and mise-en-scène. It seems that he’s cutting together the presence and natural acting of souls, something that lies behind the screen. Because of an earlier scene which shows villagers recreating the passion of Christ in the distance, the tree that the people later haul in their pagan tradition of "Pita" oddly reminds us of Jesus. Through more simple and direct editing, a goat’s hair becomes a fine cloud. The film establishes these connections without cheating or forcing them: the only adjective that comes to mind is again "natural". Le Quattro Volte is a striking and singular film with an aura that sooner or later completely takes hold of you.

By Maximilien Van Aertryck