Cannes 2021: Cow
CANNES 2021Andrea Arnold's latest cinematic foray is the simply-titled documentary Cow, a self-indulgent and often elongated feature that feels flat in artistic measure and in vocal and/or subtextual point of creation.
For enthusiasts of the arthouse cinematic scene, Cow will be sure to rock peoples socks off. For others, it is a feature that seems akin to do nothing at all aside from reinvesting into the boisterous nature of arthouse directors ridiculously crafting "highbrow art" and it being deemed worthy of utter subtextual and thematic brilliance.
The issue is that the notion of "fine art" is be all and end all in this documentary. Aside from the aesthetic – which will be mentioned below – Cow fails to say anything for itself. Some will connect the issue of farming and gluttony, perhaps the relationship between pets and food. These are thematics and socially conscious elements that are rife in debate and prevalent conversation, but Cow fails to touch on these. Perhaps they are so subtle or nuanced to a point where anyone remotely disconnected from the arthouse medium will struggle to identify. Or maybe stranger, they aren't there at all?
It begs the question of why Cow exists at all. Is it to exercise the right of creation, artistic merit, to one-up arthouse colleagues for the next latest vain enterprise? Each answer feels well equated to what is on screen, but to give Arnold the doubt here, her artistic expression in aesthetic and cinematography is as consistent and immersive throughout her filmography. Her use of documentarian aesthetic and close-up camera work used on the likes of Wasp and Fish Tank are here in droves. Throughout, the camerawork is exceptional, and the choice of no narrator is a decisive and brilliant choice to instigate a complete and direct relationship between audience and subject, but here lies the problem.
The subject is never that appealing and, as aforementioned, fails to ignite interest or an ideology for an audience to ultimately gravitate towards and further extend. Without sounding pedantic or understate the experience, the audience sees multiple cows and therein is the relationship. Of what gravitas and substance that equates are anyone's guess. It is somewhat bizarre even to acknowledge that this is at Cannes, which reiterates the above points of the arthouse community feeding each other in congratulatory nonsense. If anything, this would have been quite the stirring documentary for the BFI to showcase or in a relationship with the BBC as Steve McQueen's Small Axe has proved to be IN a major artistic success.
It is safe to say that with Cow, the media darlings will eat every single inch of this up, presumably due to the artistic direction and off-the-cuff aesthetic. Nevertheless, with no sincere substance and an outrageous running time of ninety-three minutes, Cow is a self-indulgent bore.
