For coming up on seven months now, we’ve been seeing horrifying brutal images of the atrocities being carried out in Gaza. A world away we’ve seen the bodies, the famine, the missile drops, the devastation. If you have any kind of a heart it has been broken by this. And much of it has come courtesy of journalists and photographers intrepidly communicating those horrors for the world to see. War photography is vital in a world of mass media, and indeed related to this present crisis has had a tangible effect -without it you can be sure Israel wouldn’t be as diplomatically isolated as it currently is. But there’s something quintessentially disturbing about war photography too. About going into lethal crisis zones simply to witness carnage. And we don’t talk enough about how traumatizing that is. Or what it means for one’s humanity to power through it. This is what is unexpectedly at the centre of Alex Garland’s Civil War -a film that imagines a second factional war in the United States
There is a curiously irreconcilable contradiction to The Peasants . Here is a movie that is compositionally beautiful -visually and aesthetically enrapturing in every frame on a level few animated movies achieve; and yet the subject of this imagery is so often dour and grim, even horrific in some beats. What you are looking at is depressing, uncompromising, and yet it is rendered with such vividness, with mesmerizing craft. It is a challenging effect, leaving you as impressed as you are disturbed. I have no idea why directors Dorota “DK” and Hugh Welchman, who brought to life the visionary animation masterpiece Loving Vincent several years back, chose as their follow-up project an adaptation of WÅ‚adysÅ‚aw Reymont’s turn-of-the-century Nobel Prize-winning epic novel The Peasants -a stark impression of life in a poor Polish farming village. It’s quite a shift in tone granted, for the pair and their legion of artists -hand-painting the film as in Loving Vincent one frame at a time off of