“Music is a bitch. I worship her”

CASA DE LAVA
Directed by Pedro Costa, 1995

I only recently encountered Pedro Costa, through his exquisitely shot, black and white O Sangue (out now on Second Run, kids!). Though I remember it as being quite remarkable – especially for a first film – I don’t recall it in any great detail, mainly because I was quite tired and kept falling asleep, so in my mind it's coupled with the slightly odd sensation of a waking dream. Never the less, I’m left with the impression of having been highly impressed by its concision and crispness, but not really remembering a great deal of detail.

Casa de Lava, his second film, is appreciably an extension of the same style, but also unavoidably reminiscent of Claire Denis - particularly Beau travail, with which it shares the dry heat and blasted locations of its North African locations. More broadly, it shares with Denis a spare and oblique approach to dialogue and incident, and opaque character motivations – not to mention the brilliantly implacable Isaach de Bankolé. The camerawork is similarly static and detached, but with a simplicity that is deceptive and not representative of its 'artistic' content.

The story, nominally, is about a nurse who accompanies a coma patient from Lisbon back to the Cape Verdeislands, but Costa’s approach is so detached that, though the story progresses chronologically, it never feels like you’re experiencing more than a fragmentary insight into his characters’ lives. There’s a realism in this kind of hard-to-decipher cause and effect and blocked communication, but it does make things seem slightly stilted, and effectively little actually happens, or at least, none of the events that occur are portrayed in an explicitly ‘dramatic’ way (as such, there’s little if any non-diegetic music here). The jumping focus between various characters (including one reminiscent of Isabelle Huppert’s coffee plantation owner in White Material) can at times be a bit jarring, yet, somehow, in spite of what might sound like an arduously impenetrable chore, as with Denis’ work the situation and interactions we’re privy to does become fascinating.

I think this maybe makes the film sound a harder sell than it actually is: the main character is severe but also quite gorgeous, and luminous against the volcanic landscape in her summer dress; and despite the economy of the cinematography, it’s a very beautiful film. Though there are plenty of intensely pared-down films which are almost unwatchable because of their complete lack of concessions to the audience (Claire Denis’ own debut, Chocolat – no, not the one with Johnny Depp – is arguably guilty of this), it’d almost certainly repay further viewings, and there’s something about the interactions of its characters that makes Casa de Lava more than just an exercise in the wannabe-arthouse school of sparring narrative. 

I don’t really judge films by budget or scale, but it’s notable that both O Sangue and Casa de Lava could almost be student films. Maybe that's what I find so compelling about them, in that they seem broadly (at least technically) achievable. They also share a cohesive and fully-formed style and sense of place which suggests that Costa simply has an affinity with the medium and doesn’t have any use for a more overwrought or florid approach. Given that, and because I enjoy things that are wilfully not easily digestible, and demand a certain amount of thought and attention, I'm definitely excited to check out his later films.