It’s hard to go for the heart and the brain at once: La forma exacta de las islas does it
“We like to think that La forma exacta de las islas is a film that explores and takes to the extreme the possibilities of narrating traumatic experiences. The islands in our movie exceed the Malvinas War and its aftermath, and instead become a space for pain and transformation. How do you go back to a space of pain and loss? What does living on an island mean, more precisely on one of the most remote islands in the world”,” say Daniel Casabé and Edgardo Dieleke about the second documentary they’ve made together — they first teamed up for writing and directing Cracks de nácar (2011).
Indeed, trauma is at the core of Casabé’s and Dieleke’s lucid documentary. That is to say, trauma in its many shapes and colours: on a political level, on social terms, but surely most important, on a deeply personal level. For that’s where the most telling and scarred testimonies lie.
With an outmost perceptive eye, a truly discerning mind, and an admirable way with words, the filmmakers follow Julieta Vitulio, a young Argentine historian who first travels to the Malvinas back in 2006 in order to finish her thesis on literature and cinema about the 1982 war.
Upon arrival there and by sheer chance, she meets two Argentine war veterans, Carlos Enriori and Dacio Agretti, who’ve returned to the islands after 25 years. It goes without saying, theirs is not going to be an easy visit. But it doesn’t have to be an ominous one either.
Drawn by the richness of their experiences, the young historian changes her plans, and decides to film them during a week instead.
From then on, not one but many stories gradually begin to take shape.
All of them remarkably narrated, all of them invaluable, all of them unforgettable. Stories embodying the effects of the war on Argentine veterans, kelpers, local residents, and even one that Julieta carries on her shoulders.
Aside from its sound achievements in cinematic terms — remarkably atmospheric and alluring cinematography, a smart use of sound to convey an unsettling undercurrent, the perfect pace to allow for introspection and emotional involvement, a skilled sense of storytelling — I’d say that arguably the greatest trait of La forma exacta de las islas is its point of view.
It’s how it tackles a most complex issue in a manner that is as sincerely emotive as it is admirably analytical. It’s hard to go for the heart and the brain at once. It’s even harder to get it right. So the merit is double here.
Incidentally, there’s also a second, and brief, trip that Julieta takes to return to the islands in 2010. But this time the reasons are entirely personal, and the trip proves to be unexpectedly luminous.
