Mirror

Such ethereal, transcendent beauty cannot be condensed for intellectual digestion by rational analysis. This is cinema at its most cinematic, a rare example where the art form is used to its full potential. You cannot understand this film on any level except for an emotional one. And it’s not as if this is beyond the viewer or abstract and senseless, for its sense is perfect and clear, if only you submit the brain in favour of the heart. This is one of those sparse, sparse moments where a piece of cinema has treaded unto the unworn ground of genuine visual poetry. Not poeticism, so much as a literal filmic poem, made up of metaphors and images and inter-related rhyming sequences. Mirror is a wistful reverie that softly, boldly, skilfully slips past the boundaries of the medium as we know it into the depths of human relationships. Everything in this film is permeated with life, from the trees to the grass to the household objects - if only we could turn our heads, raise our eyes, and see it! behold it and smile gently to ourselves, for we have seen it, and we have known it, and nothing else matters.