I've already knit up a scarf in Aquarella, which is a thick/thin soft wool (is soft redundant when talking about Malabrigo?). Twist is new to Malabrigo and beats everything they have done in my opinion. Stunning and hard to see in this pick (to the left), so stop by! 65 yards of thick/thin wool in "water color" dyes. What delight!Īquarella is not a new yarn, but new to the Y2Knit yarn shop. Music: Eicca Topinen.In the shop, we received new Malabrigo yarns: Aquarella and Twist. Editors: Kossakovsky, Molly Malene Stensgaard, Ainara Vera. Camera (color, HD): Kossakovsky, Ben Bernhard. Co-producers: Joslyn Barnes, Susan Rockefeller, Danny Glover, Tony Tabatznik, Emile Hertling Péronard.ĭirector: Victor Kossakovsky. Executive producers: Jeff Skoll, Diane Weyermann, Mark Thomas, Isabel Davis, Sawsan Asfari, Maya Sanbar, Madge Bray, Matthias Ehrenberg, Frank Lehman. (International sales: Lionsgate, Los Angeles.) Producers: Aimara Reques, Heino Deckert, Sigrid Dyekjaer. (Documentary - U.K.-Germany-Denmark) A Participant Media, Mitteldeutsche Medienforderung, Creative Scotland, British Film Institute, Deutscher Filmforderfonds, Medienboard Berlin–Brandenburg, Danish Film Institute presentation of a Ma.Ja.De Film, Aconite, Danish Documentary production in co-production with Louverture Films, Rundfunk Berlin-Brandenburg in association with Cactus World Films, ARTE, Rio Negro Producciones, Anorak Film. (In Venice Film Festival - Out of Competition.) Running time: 89 MIN. Reviewed at Soho Screening Rooms, London, Aug. That’s stated in the press materials, though wisely never on screen: Kossakovsky is quite happy to let his audience go with the flow. By the time we rest on the more soothingly mighty vision of Angel Falls, with its nearly half-mile plunge of water shifting shape from translucent ripple to foaming white column to iridescent atmospheric apparition, “Aquarela” just about earns its lofty closing dedication to Sokurov - to say nothing of its thesis that water is tantamount to a human protagonist in its progression. The extraordinary tracking shots that result prompt questions, not for the first time in “Aquarela,” of just what combination of technological ingenuity and crazy human bravado is at work here. The overegged intrusions of rock music from Finnish “cello-metal” band Apocalyptica in this sequence represents the film’s one clanging misstep - all the more glaring given the evocative precision of sound designer Aleksandr Dudarev’s contributions throughout.įrom there, we switch to dry land in theory only, as Kossakovsky makes his way to America, first taking in the destruction wrought in California by last year’s Oroville Dam crisis, before sending an intrepid camera down the abandoned streets of Miami’s South Beach at Irma’s roaring, battering zenith. The pace abruptly shifts for a tumultuous trans-Atlantic voyage aboard a buffeted yacht, perspective shifting between a sea-level view of furiously churning, spraying waves and aerial shots that make man’s attempts to navigate the big blue look all the more puny and vulnerable. In Greenland, Kossakovsky serenely surveys icebergs and floes glinting in sunlight, slicing through the ocean like regal modern sculpture. The film thaws in more ways than one from that point, examining water in steadily more mobile, elusive forms. It’s an opening so unexpectedly urgent as to set the film off balance, though that early, discomfiting note of tragedy lingers even through the film’s less compromised vistas of natural beauty, reminding viewers throughout of water’s capacity for destruction atop its properties as a life force. Cars frequently if ill-advisedly traverse the lake’s inconsistently frozen surface, occasionally cracking the ice and tipping suddenly into the waters below: The camera looks in on one arduous rescue mission before catching, minutes later and by stomach-churning chance, another motorist’s fatal plunge in the distance. Human presence is invisible-to-incidental in most of the sequences, save for the opening on the aforementioned Siberian lake, wherein Kossakovsky’s crew stumble upon a heart-in-mouth crisis.
What made for an uncanny-valley eyesore in non-doc ventures like Peter Jackson’s “The Hobbit” franchise here proves visually overwhelming in all the right ways: How better to capture water’s rapid, crystalline fluidity of movement than at 96 frames a second? Kossakovsky and his fellow cinematographer Ben Bernhard don’t merely rely on the technology to do all the startling, however, as they jointly compose their images with a keen eye for texture, color and contrast: There’s as much wonder here in the close-up ombré of blues on an iceberg’s underside as in the film’s more literally thundering setpieces. Among its other virtues, “Aquarela” serves as a persuasive showcase for the sensory merits of high-frame-rate lensing.
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