DIRECTED by: Claire Carré
The notion of a dystopian future is nothing new in cinema; its existence has been around for quite some time given that concept lends itself well as a fertile playground for both writers and directors in the realms of creativity with a vast expanse of narrative canvas brimming with potential, ample space equipped to house an abundance of imaginative furnishings as artistic latitude is awarded amongst the various departments. Anything and everything is available for construct with the ability of restructuring and/or inventing new operational outlines for a yet-to-be determined world.
Filmmakers and screenwriters alike have, characteristically, been employing the dystopian future device allegorically, a simulation of the future based on the perceived ills of the world progressing unfettered into a visual approximation of one conceivable end-product. Usually, a warning call against totalitarianism, surveillance/police states or, perhaps, ignoring the warning signs of a decaying eco-system.
Embers, on the other hand, deviates from the more common deployments of the conceit, opting instead to traverse a more existential terrain focused on identity and the self. Instead of constructing the world anew with a fresh set of rules and guidelines, Claire Carré (making her feature-length directorial debut) and Charles Spano decided to go the route of addition through subtraction. The framework of the film’s reality is built around the idea that an unidentified neurological disease has infected a majority of the Earth’s population with varying degrees of memory loss.
Episodic in nature, Embers focuses on a number of characters, each suffering within different stages of the disease, and the means in which they attempt to move forward with their lives. Carré and Spano present the current conditions of their purported future in an efficient manner, provoking thought organically and effortlessly, akin to a cinematic variation of a purposed philosophical abstract. The fractured focus lends a certain amount of leeway to the outcomes and progressions considering all gradients of the symptoms are addressed in one way or another.
Carré and Spano know well enough that this premise is abundant in intrigue and mental stimulation to the point that, mere, introduction of the disease and its workings garners the immediate engagement from the viewer, along with an immeasurable landscape, vacant and fertile enough to elicit an infinite number of rumination paths and tangents. Apparently, they know this fact all too well considering the premise essentially sputters and stalls shortly after the introduction phase.
While the performances produced from the cast are various shades of sufficient as Carré’s resolute visual style, showcased with confidence, is accompanied wonderfully through a well-realized and executed production design, the fact remains that the narrative portion of Embers never fully advances past the initial briefing period. Any developments and/or exploration that do exist vary greatly in degree depending on the character set resulting in an uneven experience. The film provides nothing more than a series of potential proceedings in a world of frayed synapses. That aim, however inert it may seem, does successfully prompt a wealth of ideas and critical analysis of the supposed situation. Chief of which is the juxtaposition of the inability to create new memories in a space of experiences against the ability to create new memories in a quasi-vacuum sparse with opportunities.
