One
of the most difficult things about Samsara is trying to describe it.
"Well," you could say, "It's a collection of really beautiful and
striking images edited together with music. --- And some of those images are
time-lapse, say, showing a sunrise and sunset in the desert, but sped
up. And some of the images are very long takes, and…"
Yeah. I'm
asleep already. Luckily, I have a perceptive friend (also a film writer)
who sent me a note with these words: "In this day and age I sometimes
think, 'I probably should try meditating more. But there are so many
films to catch up on.' With Samsara, I can do both!"
He means
that as a compliment. And apparently Samsara's director (and former
Santa Fe resident), Ron Fricke, agrees on the meditation angle. "I call
[Samsara] a guided meditation based on the themes of birth, death and
rebirth," he says in a recent interview, adding, "That was the whole
emphasis of the film, the flow, so there would be a sense of
interconnection."
Even without knowing Fricke and producer Mark
Magidson's intentions, the birth, death and rebirth idea is clear. The
marriage of Fricke's images—he's also the cinematographer—and music by
composer and Santa Fe resident Michael Stearns (there's also original
music by Lisa Gerrard and Marcello De Francisci) is an absorbing
experience, and the themes feel present throughout, whether we're
looking at heavy labor in sulfur mines; technology used for food
manufacturing; the sexuality of various types of sex dolls; or a
landfill through which people scavenge.
Plus, the music works not
just as score, but stands on its own. Stearns' pieces range from the
understated "Thousand Hands" to the thunderous "Ladakh."
But
perhaps the way one feels most deeply connected with the film is through
its portraits, in which the subjects of those portraits stare directly
at the audience. "That concept was styled after King Tut's death mask in
the beginning [of the film]," says Fricke. "He being a metaphor for
rebirth, that soul looking back at you that could connect all of us no
matter who you are. So the direction to the [portrait subjects] was
simply stare at the camera and don't blink."
The most captivating
of the staring portraits is a geisha filmed in Tokyo, heavily made up,
who, during her portrait, sheds a single tear.
"We lit that
portrait," says Fricke, adding that they didn't add light to the others.
"As the camera was being pushed in, I'm looking through the viewfinder
and I see this big tear coming out of her eye and I just couldn't
believe it. And she didn't blink! It was just because of the make-up and
lighting that caused her to tear up."
"That was a happy accident," says Magidson.
"And she kept that stare," says Fricke. "She kept that moment."
The
film is full of moments. When I ask Magidson whether there are any
moments he thinks they missed out on, he says, "Well, we did get shut
out of North Korea. It was the one country we were hoping to go to that
we couldn't get in. Speaking of New Mexico, I got a really nice letter
of introduction by [former governor] Bill Richardson to the North Korean
mission at the U.N. We thought we were in and it just didn't end up
happening. That was the one that got away."
Maybe North Korea will make the list for the next film. As Fricke says, "It's a big, beautiful world out there full of wonderful things. There's definitely another non-verbal epic to be made."
Santa Fe Reporter