Director: Quinten Benjamin Meijer
Writer: Quinten Benjamin Meijer
Cast: Frieda Bossina, Dawit de Koning, Kainé Willie-Harry
Running time: 7mins
When stories that speak on issues so many of us experience directly, however nightmarish those issues are, there is a danger that the tales told can begin to feel formulaic, resulting in a truly disastrous apathy from the audience. Following in the footsteps of No Light Here, Tot Daarboven [Until Up There] sees a young filmmaker approach an all-too-familiar source of trauma, and find a way to re-insulate it from the creeping cynicism that this familiarity breeds.
In the case of No Light Here, Emily Carter used a breathtaking rug-pull to acquaint audiences with the reality-warping uncertainty which envelops victims of domestic abuse. In the case of Tot Daarboven, Quinten Benjamin Meijer similarly leaves us feeling as though the floor has fallen from under us, this time to illustrate the psychological devastation of dementia.
On the windswept banks of a lake in the Netherlands, we find Vivianne (Frieda Bossina) in a foldable chair, bird-spotting with her grandson Wim (Dawit de Konig). Despite the evident chill of the wind buffetting the reeds around them, the pair bask in a warmth emanating as much from their company, as from the early bursts of the spring sun.
Meijer’s deft touch in the script means the conversation never feels overwrought, or cloying, in a way that many other entries into this sub-genre of family drama might. The feelings are all there – the bittersweet nature of a reunion, at a time in both people’s lives when each passing day feels like its own lifetime. There is always a sadness at the moments lost, but which makes the times enjoyed together all the sweeter – and conversation soon turns to memories of Wim’s early childhood, his favourite birds, and the way things used to be. While the recollections don’t come as swiftly to Vivianne, they return gradually – Bossina’s performance is perfect here, a warm twinkle in her eye as the memories come flooding back.
Here we see a representation of life before her residence in a carehome, and a brief hint at the person she once was consistently. And while I can’t say for certain, my own experiences suggest this sequence draws heavily on the real interactions many of us in the audience can relate to. There are many things which were hard about moving to a new country – but probably the toughest was seeing my own grandmother ageing through the window of yearly visits. Each time she was a little more frail than the last, each time I had been told of the way everyday life had become more difficult, but each time there were also beautiful moments where she remained unmistakably herself – right until the end.
As I have warned, however, there is a shift in tone in the second half of the film. And without wanting to spoil the exact details, Jurre Vos’ cinematography and the sound design of Asmen Deniz Ugurlu paint us a picture which is appropriately hard to stomach. The life and love drain from what we are witnessing – the edges of the image blur while the colour saps away. The sound, once verging on overwhelming, dulls to a ragged murmur. A lone figure lays, wheezing in bed, as the light fades.
Almost everything about this transition is impeccable. For anyone who has lived through this process with a loved one, or who is having to learn to live with it first-hand, will recognise the raw emotional edge to proceedings – while appreciating the artistic and technical proficiencies used to bring it to life in this story.
The only criticism, in terms of delivery, is the film’s score – which you might euphemistically describe as overbearing. Arguably it works as part of the contrast between the two parts of the movie – but I could still do with a mite less of the shrill piano, it’s notes hanging over every line of dialogue as if it somehow doesn’t trust them to get the job done. Considering the ability of the actors on display, it almost takes us out of things – because we begin to wonder why, on top of Frieda Bossina’s remarkable performance, the score is this keen to lead us down the garden path.
At the same time, some might argue there is not an awful lot new being said here. In light of the care crisis gripping so much of Europe, the film has precious little to say about the way many people live out their final days, in understaffed homes where the very worst of our economy’s parasites farm their suffering for profit. I could take or leave that in this case, though – I am happy for the film to simply provide solace to its audience, and hopefully its creator.
For experiences like these, I don’t necessarily think there needs to be something edgy or challenging said every time. Art as a mode for processing complex emotional burdens – both on behalf of the artist, and their audience – is just as valuable as innovative storytelling. What that does mean, however, is there will be intense scrutiny on the output – it will be judged against a glut of other powerfully evocative work. To go ahead and tell your story in that context takes a commendable amount of guts – but on this occassion, the director was clearly right to place such confidence in their project, and team.
One year ago, I was speaking at my grandmother’s funeral. I’m not claiming to have offered anything approaching an objective opinion on that basis – but honestly, who could? Reviewing Tot Daarboven was a challenge, but I think that speaks to its power. Many filmmakers might have perceived this as an open goal – and botched it by producing something obvious, inauthentic, or mawkish, which audiences push back against or reject. Nailing this story was by no means a given – and everyone involved deserves credit to that end. This is a film which will speak to so many people, and either prompt them to make the most of the time they still might have, or to confront some of the most difficult chapters of their lives – and find a way to reconcile them with the sweet memories they also pertain to.
