Silent Land: a hypnotic dissection of European apathy

The ocean holds a mysterious power in Polish director Aga Woszczynska’s haunting debut feature. Covering similar thematic territory to Mati Diop’s Atlantics (2019) and partly inspired by the 2013 Lampedusa migrant shipwreck tragedy, Woszczynska confronts Europe’s apathy towards humanitarian crises through the actions of a Polish couple vacationing in Sardinia. Steeped in ominous ambience, it’s a slow-burn drama that questions the notion of freedom in a morally corrupt capitalist society that favours the elite over the many.

When seemingly perfect couple Adam (Dobromir Dymecki) and Anna (Agnieszka Żulewska) arrive at their rented accommodation on the idyllic Sardinian coast, they discover the pool is broken. Though there is a water shortage in the area and their palatial villa is surrounded by the Mediterranean Sea, they demand the owner immediately fix the issue. Sure enough, a labourer (Ibrahim Keshk) appears the next morning, interrupting their peaceful holiday with his drilling, his mere presence setting them on edge. But when he accidentally drowns in the pool, a police investigation begins, and the couple’s initial inaction at the startling sight of a human being bobbing lifelessly in the water sets them on a stormy course. Their psychological states fray as Woszczynska and Piotr Litwin’s screenplay scrutinises their moral centres.

The tranquillity of the glistening coastline and the endless waves of blue sea, shot enticingly by cinematographer Bartosz Swiniarski, soon turn menacing following the central tragedy. Using a combination of natural and artificial sounds and images, Woszczynska splinters the serene atmosphere, guiding the viewer through a sinister land where the police collude to protect travel industry capital over the price of a human life. At first the couple rejoice at being let off the hook, but jubilant revelry in the town square (shot in one impressive long take) grows disorientating, with a traditional-dance sequence recalling set pieces from recent folk-horror films. As guilt eventually takes over, the couple’s initial indifference becomes their undoing.

The director skilfully conjures an air of hypnotic disquiet with her carefully arranged mise en scène and unnerving sound design. Chiaroscuro lighting, a plentiful fridge filled with bottled water left open on a scorching day, the cicadas in the trees and the noise of the waves constantly lapping against the shore – these elements coalesce to dial up the dread. Woszczynska is interested in the bigger picture, shooting incidents from afar before narrowing her gaze by gradually zooming in on scenes of personal turmoil or emotional bankruptcy. But it’s the understated way in which she draws parallels between moral decline and the planet’s dwindling resources that lingers longest in the mind.

► Silent Land is in UK cinemas now.