Archipelago is unnervingly real. The reality of everyday life, with all its awkward pauses, underlying tensions and things unsaid, is bravely confronted in this very British Arthouse creation by Joanna Hogg. The film is set on the Scilly Isles where Edward arrives to meet his mum, dad and sister on a farewell holiday before he goes to Africa for eleven months. The failure of the father to turn up highlights a schism in the family that is explored throughout the film. We follow the family as they walk, eat, bike and take painting lessons from a family friend staying nearby. These everyday events act as a backdrop for a turbulent subtext of personal hang-ups and complex familial relations.
Each carefully composed and long held shot forces the audience to confront, to be still, to think. Nothing is artificial; the light, for example, is frustratingly natural. At night we are left in the dark with the characters and by day we enjoy the beautiful sunlight. The pace too is realistically slow, owing in part to the fact that much is improvised, Gianni di Gregorio style, and silence is exploited.
There is no music to smooth over the silences, to heighten an emotion and to illustrate. Without distraction we are allowed, forced even, to concentrate solely on the subtleties of the interaction between the characters and to deal with the silence, the sadness and the underlying stress of the whole situation.
The island setting adds to the claustrophobia. The island as a literary backdrop is a classic writer’s tool, used in everything from stage plays such as Shakespeare’s The Tempest and Wertenbaker’s classic Our Country’s Good, to fiction works such as Alex Garland’s The Beach. The helicopter, the only way we are shown to escape the island, drops us off and only allows us to leave with an uncomfortable roar at the very end of the film. The island seems deserted except for a lone fisherman and some pheasant shooters. It is as if everything is watching this one family - the chirping birds, waving trees, the very house itself. Yet it does so with an almost chilling sense of detachment and neutrality, partly because the family seems so isolated and self-involved. They are so eaten up with issues that the raw beauty of the island only serves to exacerbate their unease.
There is so much juicy psychology to explore and we are given a chance to really think and focus. Held shots of curtains flapping in the wind and the characters sitting in silence drape a meditative veil over the film and call for constant reflection. Hogg, with the help of a very effective cast, removes the distraction of action and makes us contemplate some uncomfortable truths.
Thanks to the Phoenix for screening Archipelago and everyone get excited for the film of Murakami’s legendary first novel Norwegian Wood that opens at the Phoenix this March.
