Slow cinema is pushing closer to the mainstream thanks to films like Paul Schrader's late-career masterpiece, First Reformed.
Referred to as the “
transcendental style” of filmmaking by acclaimed critic and filmmaker
Paul Schrader (writer of
Taxi Driver [1976], and writer/director of
First Reformed [2017]), “
slow cinema” is most often associated with strictly arthouse films, but has been gaining more prominence recently thanks to movies like the previously mentioned
First Reformed, as well as
A Ghost Story (2017) and
High Life (2018) - the latter of which I wasn’t a huge fan of but not gonna complain that it got some shine.
As a mode of filmmaking, slow cinema focuses on stillness and minimalism, with repeated static shots and long takes, sparse dialogue sequences, and open-ended narratives, usually accented with one or two brief bursts of emotion throughout the film. With this style referred to as “slow” within its title, the passage of time is understandably significant in these types of films, although it’s rarely linear. Instead it often becomes either fixed or cyclical, like a type of limbo where characters must confront some aspect of themselves or their situation in order to break free, or it shoots off in every direction, allowing the characters to move through time as fluidly as they move through space.
If my explanation of their narrative structures are any indication, the films made in this manner often take on surreal qualities as well, whether intentionally or not. Many slow cinema directors approach
surrealism overtly - through their imagery and stories, and the seamless mixture of “reality” and dream sequences - but even the films that take a very
neorealist approach project a certain mysticism due to the intense, drawn-out focus of certain shots, which seem to imbue whatever is onscreen with a sense of cosmic significance.
All in all, the formal elements typically come together to evoke a dreamlike and haunting atmosphere that heightens any abstract or metaphysical aspects that the stories might generate. It feels like the ultimate goal of slow cinema directors is to form a spiritual connection with their audiences, encouraging us to look inwards and reflect on our own lives, and hopefully with enough introspection, discover some type of personal truth that will lead to a lasting catharsis.
Schrader says that this style of filmmaking uses the power of film against itself, and that by emphasizing excessive dead time rather than action, it forces the viewer into being an active rather than passive participant in the film. Pairing this aim for the viewer to become involved - and to subsequently confront themselves - with the ambiguity of the narratives, slow cinema strikes me as a notably existential mode of storytelling as well: by withholding answers, it requires the viewer to create their own meaning. So, much like life, you get out of it what you put in.
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