LFF 2020: Siberia
LFF 2020Siberia is yet another collaboration between writer/director Abel Ferrara and Willem Dafoe, with the latest work seeking to tackle the logic of dreams and what they mean to the human spirit. Yet, due to an execution that feels nothing more than an incoherent and self-indulgent mess of a finished film, Siberia ends up being an incredibly frustrating viewing experience.
The way in which Siberia presents the perspective of dreams or, in some cases, nightmares right from the opening moments becomes immediately off putting. Willem Dafoe plays Clint, a barman who seems to be completely isolated in the frozen wilderness, spare the occasional customer who shows up for a drink. The film offers no other set-up before things begin to implode in on Clint, with embarrassing cheap jump-scares quickly setting the mood for which the rest of the film will follow, as Clint moves from locale to locale looking bewildered at what is happening before his eyes while the viewer is expected to make meaning out of the madness.
The logic at play in Siberia could have certainly worked if the execution was more thought out. You merely must look at the most obvious example of David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive or perhaps a more suitable comparison in Eraserhead to see how films can use dreams to reflect the inner complex of a character. Even one of the most critiqued filmmakers in Lars Von Trier crafted a deep dive into the self-reflective psyche with his last outing, The House that Jack Built, which in many ways feels similar to Ferrara’s film, even putting indulgence aside.
However, Siberia is so over the top with many of its scenes that is starts to become comedic rather than insightful. Despite Dafoe, yet again, showing a true commitment to his craft and the art-form, the performance ranges from dull to hilarious with one scene in particular being so similar to the Green Goblin conflict in Spider-man it is hard not to laugh. The majority of the other scenes don’t fare much better, ranging from random acts of violence to gratuitous sex-scenes; no moment in Siberia ever feels earned to justify its narrative structure. A silver-lining is perhaps that , thanks to the dream scape entailed within the film, cinematographer Stefano Falivene is able to provide some visually appealing moments throughout the run-time, yet even that is undercut by the abrasive editing style with the aforementioned jump-scares.
Siberia is a frustrating and un-rewarding viewing experience, that seems more concerned with being so abstract that it forgot to provide a semblance anything remotely engaging for the viewer.
