QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM MALTA
Produced by Darren Aronofsvy, Sandra Winther’s debut feature expands on the same topic as her award-winning, eponymous 2019 short film. The young American director spent six years with the few remaining residents of the Isle de Jean Charles, in the Louisiana bayous. We learn straight away that the island lost 98% of its territory in 60 years. The aerial shots are impressive, revealing vast tracts of land submerged underneath a thin layer of water. These people include orphaned siblings Howard and Juliette. They proudly call themselves: “America’s first climate change refugees”. This is not an isolated incident. On average, of 21 million humans are displaced every year due to weather-related events.
In addition to global warming, the fast changes to this landscape also have a more direct cause: the fossil fuel industry dug up a vast network of canals in order to accommodate gas and oil pipes. Lowland Kids acknowledges this, without going into the history and the politics. Instead, the film opts for a far less muddy terrain: this is a solidly observational documentary, bordering on non-narrative.
These people haven’t moved. At least not yet. These feral beasts refuse to leave the habitat where they grew up – come rain or shine. Their determination recalls Clara, the resilient resident of Kleber Mendonca Filho’s Aquarius (2016). The difference is that the developments here are real, and the forces of nature are a lot more powerful and unforgiving than corporate ambitions. Most of the wooden houses stand on stilts, surrounded by mire, garbage and debris – an image you wouldn’t instantly associate with the United States. There is a pervasive and ominous touch of chaos. A twisted McDonald’s sign, a road flooded with water, multiple potholes, etc.
Normally, young people would be the first to abandon collapsing communities, remote and rural areas in search of better opportunities, leaving the older generations behind. The residents of Jean Charles decided to challenge the orthodoxy. These Americans are in their teens and their 20s, and they have to desire to to budge. They are undaunted by the sight of the canals taking over. “Being on the water keeps me calm”, asserts a rifle-toting adolescent. The interactions are natural and spontaneous. The director stays firmly behind the camera as the characters carry on with their lives, hanging to their birthplace by a thread. Another person questions: “are we gonna be the last kids to grow up here?”. Their real motivation is unclear. Perhaps collective memory plays a role: “I just wanted this place to be remembered”.
The build-up to Hurricane Ida in 2021 too is captured by the lens of cinematographer Andrea Gavazzi. The locals are terrified that the winds might force permanent change upon them. That they might become evicted by nature. Fortunately, this does not materialise. The action often takes place at dawn and dusk, giving the an aura of warmth and transition. A quiet, soothing and minimalistic music score supports the proceedings, with a couple of gentle Moby songs offering some extra soul. The byproduct is vaguely dreamy, yet never cheesy. This is a finely crafted movie. While most characters might be adolescent, the filmmaking is very mature.
Lowland Kids showed in the 3rd Mediterrane Film Festival.
