Aloft

Isolated helpless superstitious promise, the only hope for a mother's incurable child resting in the hands of a weathered witch doctor, desperation, the unknown, an attempt to reach into wild undiscovered mystic knowledge potentially hosting scientific truth/s, cures, poetic miracles, gifts, afflictions, a reliance upon the yet to be explained medical hardware built into environmental consciousnesses, humanistic crucibles, penicillin in a beam of light, tactile chemotherapy, the mother refuses to believe only to find she has what it takes, tragedy tearing her family apart, a reluctant, crippling, emotional commitment.

To belief.

Trust.

The event's shocks leave her other son permanently withdrawn, difficult but stable, cultivating an archaic art.

The consequences of a devastating decision lay waiting North of 60, forlorn forgiveness, buried beneath the ice.

It's an incredibly dark film, Claudia Llosa's Aloft.

Well done though.

A depressing desperate joyless aesthetic meticulously matriculated like the resin of pure hopelessness.

Not very cheery.

Well acted, Jennifer Connelly (Nana Kunning) and Cillian Murphy (Ivan) given more room to manoeuvre than I'm accustomed to seeing, not that I've seen all their films.

Well structured.

It challenges you to believe or condemn, take a side, consider, which is always a huge risk, commendable in its execution.

I don't deny the existence of miracles, things that can't be explained.

I do believe they can't be explained because our knowledge still lacks the means to comprehend them however.

It may, always.

Trying to intuitively reproduce them is a sketchy calling.

They can't be explained.

That's why they're so fascinating.

Motivating.