When we talk of single-take shots, we think back to “how did they do that?” marvels like Martin Scorsese’s nightclub-entry shot in Good Fellas. It’s different here.
Spoilers ahead…
Some films, like Blue is the Warmest Colour or The Brown Bunny, become notorious for sex scenes. Some films, like Irréversible, becoming controversial talking points for the amounts of violence they contain. Other films, like The Last Temptation of Christ, become a hot-button issue because they outrage people’s faith and beliefs. Some films gain notoriety for their gaze. When Abdellatif Kechiche’s Mektoub, My Love: Canto Uno premiered in Venice, people complained about the excessive objectification of women. The sequel, Intermezzo, which premiered at Cannes, was practically a three-and-a-half hour advertisement for fleshy buttocks.
Georgian director Dea Kulumbegashvili’s Beginning, which premieres on mubi today, is hardly controversial in the sense discussed above. But had the Cannes film festival taken place as planned (Beginning was an official selection), I suspect it would have become notorious for the fact that nothing “happens” for long stretches of time. This is not exactly a new phenomenon, of course, especially if you’ve made your way around what’s come to be known as Slow Cinema. (Mexican auteur and Slow Cinema exponent Carlos Reygadas is on board as an executive producer.) Still, I suspect “what did you think of the scene where she lies down in a forest and closes her eyes and stays still for some seven minutes?” would have become a buzzy talking point.
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Baradwaj Rangan 
Ruminating Aesthete
February 6, 2021
Thanks for the review BR. This one cast a spell. There was so much of perceived subjectivity (a compulsion to judge) in those still frames. At times, it felt like patriarchy was conversing with me in a hushed tone through those static yet vigorous cinematic moments.
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Ruminating Aesthete
February 6, 2021
In those long takes of stillness so much time passes that at one point the frames and their contents stop being objects and start to mirror our own persona and in those reflections our shades of patriarchy, the ones that we so well hide, glow in all their vanity.
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