Review: Mountain (2021)

Directed by: Joke Olthaar | 79 minutes | documentary

There are few landscapes in which we as humans feel so insignificant as in the mighty mountain ranges that the earth is rich in. At the same time, the mountains also exert an enormous attraction on us. The sublime beauty of the virtually untouched nature and the rock formations, often millions of years old, create a feeling of peace and timelessness, a powerful medicine against the hectic and fleeting nature of modern everyday life.

In ‘Berg’ film and theater maker Joke Olthaar makes a creditable attempt to capture the beauty and ruggedness of an authentic European mountain area in images. Filmed entirely in black and white, ‘Berg’ is an aesthetically pleasing and multifaceted portrait of the Triglav, Slovenia’s highest mountain and the Julian Alps. We see the mountain in different shapes and seasons. The barren and rocky peaks, which sometimes rise like small islands above the vast sea of ​​clouds that envelop the mountain, the forests that cover the slopes of the mountain, the remnants of eternal snow and the marmots, chamois, ibex and birds that inhabit this challenging habitat: these are all elements of this alpine ecosystem that guarantee a multitude of views and thus create an intimate portrait of a special landscape. At first sight ordinary rock formations are exhibited in ‘Berg’ as works of art full of special patterns, formed by natural mechanisms such as erosion, wind, precipitation and flowing rivers.

Man is largely an extra in this mighty setting. We do see it, in the form of some mountaineers who brave the roughness and gradient of the mountain and march steadily towards the top. However, through sweeping panoramas, people are mere specks, insignificant in contrast to the ancient geological scene that surrounds them. A severe thunderstorm that sweeps across the landscape once again confirms that humans and animals in the heart of the mountains are at the mercy of natural primal forces that can only sustain them. Old fragments of rescue missions, which form a stylistic break with the rest of the film, show that immersing yourself in the beauty of the mountain landscape sometimes also comes at a high price.

There is hardly any talk in ‘Berg’. In the beginning, a few people tell us about the spiritual effect of seeing and exploring a mountain landscape on their minds, but for the rest we mainly hear the sounds of nature. Rippling streams, singing birds, roaring thunderclaps and the rustling of the wind form the aural main part of this serene and introspective film. ‘Berg’ is therefore ‘slow cinema’ at its best: a film that takes the time to tell a visual story without the use of voice-overs, pompous music and rapid scene changes. Certainly not a bad choice, although the stretch does wear off a bit after an hour. With a total running time of 78 minutes, the film is actually a fraction too long.

However, this does not alter the fact that ‘Berg’ is a beautiful piece of film art. The documentary offers a meditative view on a mighty, beautiful and sometimes treacherously dangerous landscape and sheds light, without using many words, on the relationship between man and the environment and the intrinsic value of untouched pieces of earth.