Everytime (Sandra Wollner, 2026)
Death is a space the living inhabit. And memory provides but a rough scaffolding, a temporary structure from which we each emerge alone tracing and retracing our steps, only to circle back with great determination, hoping that, like superman once did, we too might reverse the course of time. But underneath it all we hope that our paths might cross with another traveller, who might’ve emerged from that very singular event, just as changed, unrecognisable, nevertheless company for the journey ahead.
Wollners impression reminds me of others like Petit Maman, Blue Heron and Aftersun. I watched this too through misty eyes, surrendering myself to its abstractions. Much like blue heron, and aftersun, wollner refracts her memories through film-textured hues and digital abstractions. But where the others consolidate and land, the final act here takes flight, as though a bird assembled out of bits of bone, strewn plumage and a bit of magic.
Still, I fear that future films dealing with similar themes might get formulaic, seduced by and reduced to this particular aesthetic only to become a genre unto itself.