QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM LOCARNO

In this follow-up to Two Years at Sea (2011), director Ben Rivers returns to Jake Williams, focusing on the hermit’s daily habits in striking black and white cinematography. Williams is a Scottish hermit who has lived a peaceful existence in Clashindarroch Forest, and uses his surroundings to create a life that has to satisfy nobody but himself. Shot on 16 mm film, Bogancloch is admittedly slow moving, but the minutiae – from the tapes Williams plays, to the bath he has set for himself outside his domicile – makes for compelling, even hypnotic, viewing, particularly the night scenes which are typically done around a bonfire.

Bogancloch is essentially a dialogue-free movie. Barring a class he teaches to a group of children, the only words that stem from his mouth are lyrics to songs. He sings as he washes himself in a bath, humming the tune to a melody he heard a long time back. Rivers has enjoyed a friendship with Williams since 2005, which is established on the screen. Despite the wintery setting and photography, the surroundings boast a fire that makes this environment eminently more pleasant to watch. By the time Williams takes to the skis, he seems to have recaptured a part of his youth that is missing at the beginning of the feature.

Although Williams is a hermit, he lives in a fairly contemporary vehicle; a cosier alternative to the one he had in Two Years At Sea (an old farmhouse). The older man listens to tapes that are sung almost entirely in Arabic, suggesting that his younger days were spent in the Middle East. Eventually, the filmmakers produce a younger photo of the recluse: his hair as wild and magnificent in youth as it is in his dotage.What’s clear from the proceedings is that the central character has stayed true to the intentions he laid out decades earlier; the compromises few and essential to the geography. A cynic might sneer that he “grew old, but not up”, yet it’s to Rivers credit that he documents his subject with sincerity, not cynicism.

In a world that’s driven by technology, Williams commitment to nature feels admirable, and while he may live alone, the elder man interacts with people. Williams sits with a group of travellers to sing an old Scottish song, their harmonies chiming over the billowing flames. Tears form behind his eyes, as if he’s moved by this artistic expression. The work is tribal, but delivered with gusto and heart. Considering the diversity of the ensemble – it’s not a collection of caucasian children – the documentary highlights how recent it was made. If it wasn’t for these distinctions, a late audience member could very easily mistake the feature for a work from the 1960s.

Black and white palettes soak the screen, which accentuates the snow falling against a starless black sky. The cinematography is the documentary’s greatest strength, giving it a coating rarely seen in this field of movie-making. As it stands, the home-spun, stripped back style of cinema will be testing for younger audience members, considering the pregnant pauses and paucity of sound that soaks the work. But those who are content with the slow journey will be rewarded with a poetic overview of naturalistic living.

Rivers may return to this part of Scotland to produce a third feature, although Williams’ age may be a factor. As it stands, Two Years At Sea and Bogancloch feel like two parts of a conversation; two disparate sections that simply cannot exist without the other. “Says life, the world is mine”,”Williams sings, and as long as the viewers can enjoy the planet with him, then it’s a pleasant one to sit through.

Bogancloch just premiered in the 77th edition of the Locarno Film Festival