Director: Ralph Winedt
Writer: Ralph Winedt
Cast: Alejandro Marquez, Sean-Curtis Girigorie, Vali Leonora
Running time: 5mins
Often, filmmakers seem more devastated by my ‘out-of-five’ score, than by what I have said about their film in the body of a review. People have been furious about glowing 4-star write-ups before – and the fact they missed out on one star ultimately bothers them more than the four they earned.
Before we go any further, then, I want to be clear about the value of a star-scores. Beyond something which might look nice on a poster, it is mostly arbitrary when it comes to indicating whether a project was a success or not.
I’d take a mildly flawed mid-scoring movie trying to do something interesting, over a five-star production that perfects something tried and tested, any day of the week. And there are a lot of positive signs in Memoria Derá that writer-director Ralph Winedt is on track to deliver that kind of thought-provoking entertainment in the future. So, while this score might seem harsh, there are plenty of things he should be proud of from his debut short film.
First of all, the central premise of the film is an excellent twist on the dystopias of the Global North that popular sci-fi and horror usually fixate upon. But what would be a dystopia for the rest of the world? From what I could gather in the spartan five-minute run-time, undefined crises have enabled a form of direct colonialism to re-emerge in the Caribbean. As two young men grapple with each other in a wrestling match, a grotesque gallery of white faces gurn and leer at the pair – while flapping wads of cash in their hands.
Keen as they are to bellow combat tips at the fighters in Dutch (the colonial power which still owns Curaçao in reality), the wealthy punters don’t look like they would stand much of a chance against the two brothers they are forcing to fight for entertainment – but they are guarded by a nearby military man, decked out in camouflage, with his hand hovering ominously above his pistol. After the two men exhaust each other in the midday heat, they are carted back to a flimsy cloth tent – presumably while the guests retire to some splendid palace.
As darkness falls, however, something strange begins to happen. The two men begin to be plagued by dreams of an old woman, speaking Papiamento, and holding a burning torch. One tells the other it’s best to try and ignore these dreams, as they could lead to some kind of trouble with their masters – but the old woman persists, determined to reignite memories in them; of who they are, and what they might have been.
Fire-lit flashback scenes explain how the two men were stolen from their home as children – and shows their mother (the old woman) defenceless against the military man. Mentioning the legacy of Frantz Fanon, and insisting that the voices of the oppressed will one day be heard, she finally makes her break-through, and her two sons remember they were not born slaves – this fate is not their destiny, and they can fight back.
Director of photography Ango Lourens does an excellent job of using the camera to impart as much atmosphere to proceedings as possible. Images have depth and definition, and the night-scenes in particular do some fantastic work with the flickering magic of the fire, to underscore the supernatural justice at play. At the same time, Sorandy Sint Jacobs deserves further credit for the soundtrack – which works to use music instruments and styles unique to Curaçao that also conjure a unique sense of foreboding. It’s reminiscent of Damon Albarn and Michael Nyman’s chaotic and eclectic score for Ravenous – and if an album of it were available, I’d eat it up.
But while the sound and vision do a lot of heavy lifting to build atmosphere, Winedt seems to lack patience in his own story. There are many times when the camera might be allowed to dwell on an image for longer, without any of the characters having to move the plot along – just allow us to live in that moment with them.
In the scene where the guffawing colonialists are cheering on the violence, we could have dwelt on close-ups of their faces, as they drink in the power their money and privilege affords them over others. In the flashback, we could have been given a moment of calm where the family enjoys each other’s company, before that world is torn asunder – to show us what was lost. There could have been a moment of quiet reflection in the darkness, before our two heroes begin their quest for liberation. Without adding very much in the way of dialogue or action, we could have felt so much more like we knew and understood these characters.
It might also have made for a slightly less chaotic final edit. It feels as though Shurdien Servinus and Hector Herrera Gaciva could have done with a little more ‘B roll’ to work with, because the way everything hangs together as it is, has no time for us to breathe or to think – and with abstract storytelling, having such a space is absolutely essential for the audience to engage with a film.
There are great ideas on display here. A unique foundation for something which I think I would absolutely love. But Winedt needs to have more patience with the tools at his disposal – and a greater commitment to ratcheting up tension, and letting us build relationships with characters. Of course, this is his first film, so perhaps that will come with time. I just hope we get to see whatever comes next at Indy Film Library.