Three sisters, Carmen, Elsa, and Maura, come together after 20 years; it’s time to divide their inheritance, a vast plot of land on one of the islands of Grand Canaria. As tensions between the sisters grow, the earth starts to rumble, and while the personal conflicts are not solved, the volcano erupts, spitting out fire. It is as if the land where the girls grew up has become a part of them and vice versa, and now that the sisters practically don’t speak to one another, the land speaks for them.
Carmen is the sole caretaker of the property, holding on to the past. Elsa had moved to the city and established her own family. She also offered herself to their mentally disabled sister, Maura, who needs all-day care. It’s autumn, and Elsa brings Maura to visit their sister at this faraway mountainous property. Time is running out, and age is catching up. They are reaching a point where they won’t be able to work the land or tidy up the kitchen anymore. Their life could have been so different had they divided this property 30 years ago. As Elsa points out, «We are not getting better with age; let us be finished with this talk of inheritance so we can still enjoy some of it.» Meanwhile, Carmen suppresses any possible dialogue. «My head is spinning from this talk over two shits of land. I am sick to death of this inheritance, but how do you want to divide it?»
During the almond harvest, the sisters rest for an afternoon in the sunny pasture. They discuss the division of the property but make no decisions. This overgrown piece of land is so large that it has been divided into sections, each with its name: The Land of the Lost Souls, The Barran Slopes, the New Fountain, The Blowout, and The Old House are just some of them. There is discord—more than one sister wants The Old House where their mother once lived. No one remembers what The Barren Slopes look like until Carmen recalls that it is the coastline where their Grandma used to take them to eat roasted pork, indicating that there was a time when this respected estate was filled with life, laughter, and family. This piece of land is, in fact, an artefact of their past.
Unspoken conflict
The dialogue is spare, and Elsa tells Carmen she is selfish. The camera catches Carmen at night in the kitchen, devouring biscuits in the dark as if to avoid sharing with her sisters, and we are left to wonder whether Elsa is right. Or is Carmen resisting change out of respect for their ancestors and history?
The unspoken conflict becomes the story’s central theme, and there’s a palpable tension between the two sisters. At one point, they sit around the kitchen table when the power goes out. One sister is fumbling around, looking for a lantern. We witness complete darkness for a few minutes, only hearing the noises of the lantern search, the comments about how cold it is, the sound of the wind, and the meowing of the cat. These sounds intensify, as if we were outside on the open pastures and not inside a house. The camera is not afraid of utilizing darkness, which gives all the more room for sound mixers Emilio García and Joaquín Pachón to expose their abilities. The music score by Jonay Armas is minimalistic to the point one is initially not sure if it is intentional.
It is as if the land where the girls grew up has become a part of them and vice versa
Nature’s voice
Natural sounds are used as commentary, intensifying our sense of unease. When the earth trembles, so does the house and the furniture, and the rumbling sounds like a warning. The sisters pester each other in the smallest gestures, and yet, when the earth shakes, they decide to share a bed as they are frightened and can’t fall asleep.
The cinematographers José Ángel Alayón and Zhana Yordanova’s work with light is sublime and reminiscent of paintings by Rembrandt. In the interiors, darkness is the main canvas; the spare natural light draws the contours. The fact that there is an art director on the team, Silvia Navarro, indicates that the shots were carefully conceptualized. The cluttered kitchen counter in the background looks like a masterpiece painting by one of the Dutch Baroque painters.
Human insignificance
People are not the only protagonists in this suppressed drama about unresolved disputes. Something more powerful is at the bottom of it all, more powerful than humans. Every natural element has its significance; the howling of the wind, the overgrown pastures, and the trembling of the earth imply how insignificant and comical humans are in the larger picture of existence.
In this debut, the director, Macu Machín, blurs the distinction between documentary and fictional drama. Although the characters and the drama are authentic, Machín has created a slow-motion thriller with philosophical undertones by giving nature a voice.
