Almost more like an audiobook than a traditional movie, the first and unfortunately final film from Icelandic composer Jóhann Jóhannsson pairs soothing narration by Tilda Swinton with surreal images of alien structures on a desolate planet for a piece of sci-fi that may very well be un-categorizable. As a “story” ostensibly meant to carry some sort of urgency, Last and First Men isn’t entirely convincing. But as an example of pure imagination that challenges how you think of biological life, it’s totally fascinating. As Swinton details the continuous cycle of death and rebirth that humanity goes through over an impossible span of time, it’s hard not to feel the hope and tragedy of it all—while also making you reconsider how things are in our present day.
"It's all so entrancing that one can't help but experience overwhelming sadness in witnessing the last work from an artist so in control of his mission."
— Eric Kohn
"A ravishing 70-minute audiovisual essay on human mortality, extinction and legacy - all the more poignant for being its maker's final creative statement."
— Guy Lodge
As the end approaches inexorably, the last humans, living millions of years into the future, send a message to the humanity of the present that is both a plea for help and a warning, but also an epic tale of evolution, decline and hope.
A message being broadcast from billions of years into the future describes the evolution and collapse of society and of human beings as a species.
There isn't one particular moment or evolutionary cycle that stands out above the rest in Last and First Men, because the experience of everything in its totality really is greater than the sum of its parts. But as tempting as it may be to dismiss the film as purely experimental (and therefore something to which regular criticism or analysis doesn't apply), there really is sharp, intentional filmmaking here if you seek it out. It's a very slowly paced movie for sure, but the parade of images we get are haunting, and the sound design immediately transports you somewhere far beyond wherever you're seated.
People wish for cinematic ASMR until it arrives in the form of the creepiest podcast you've ever heard.
Berlin
1 nomination
