The World of Movies: Flores
Written by Rachael Crawley
The World of Movies is a series that explores global cinema, drawing on films from many countries, industries and eras. This week, we visit an uncertain future in Portugal.
Flores.
May contain spoilers.
I always want to do my best to highlight short films, as I believe they are too frequently overlooked (looking at you, Academy), and can contain some of the most concise and technically accomplished filmmaking around. In general, too, they are easier to finance and exhibit, so they can be a great method for a new filmmaker or an emerging national cinema to showcase their ability. My hope is, as time goes on, I can start circulating back to countries I have already written about and include some more short films – or, you know, more variety in general.
For this week, we will explore Jorge Jácome’s ethereal ecological drama Flores (2017). The short envisions a world where an unexpected disaster has affected the Azores Islands – in this case, the hydrangeas have taken over. The protagonist has come to the islands, camera in hand, to observe this strange phenomenon.
On paper this premise could be humorous, but the way this film is set up, it’s quite an eerie scenario. Most of the film is coated in a sickly pale lavender. The effect is something of a perpetual sunrise, or maybe sunset, but its impression is anything but natural. Immediately, the viewer is ill at ease. Yes, from flowers.
To its credit, the film does little to explain the apocalyptic scenario – it simply jumps in. The flowers are here and they are ruinous. It has a calm, laid-back style (no triffids stalking soldiers here), and the quiet of this disaster makes it all the more frightening. It can verge on too slow sometimes, but never drags too severely.
Flores.
The islands have been evacuated, as the continuing presence of the flowers makes everyday life impossible, and the only human presence is military (with, of course, some slight business interests sprinkled in). The filmmaker interviews multiple soldiers, who carry out reconnaissance and wax nostalgic about past visits to the area, all while tinted a faint purple.
In time, an understated romance begins. Two of the soldiers develop a quiet bond. It’s a nice glimpse of humanity that does not overpower the film as a whole. In the subtle way that it unfolds, the romance adds to the film’s mystique. The characters seem nearly as opaque at the end as at the beginning – but I’m not sure that developing them further would have been a great idea. This film works by maintaining a fragile balance between its technical and storytelling elements, and it would be very easy to throw them out of order.
Despite its fearsome presence, the movie is simultaneously peaceful. Every frame is lusciously shot, and its palette is beautiful to look at. There are no serious attempts at plant eradication, but rather an acceptance of this scenario. The soldiers wander around in near-silence, without clear objectives. The island is quiet and pretty. I kept thinking that it must smell very nice. And hey, the bees are doing well.
I sit writing this on a beautiful spring day, Easter Sunday. Over the past few weeks I’ve seen the first growth of many flowers, though fortunately none seem to be taking over the city. It is the perfect time, though, for this contemplative reflection on nature turned unnatural. Calming yet eerie, it is sure to leave the viewer deep in thought for quite a while after.
Rachael Crawley holds a Master's Degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from X University (formerly known as Ryerson), and has worked with film in Canada and in Europe. She adores language and cinema, and how these subjects interact with each other.