The Spanish countryside is on fire – no one knows what, or who, caused it. All the residents of the small region of Galicia know is that one of their most infamous sons, Amador (Amador Arias Mon), a notorious arsonist, has been released from prison and is heading home, where he will be staying with his ailing mother (Benedicta Sánchez), who is well-loved in the village, unlike her son, who tries his best to redeem himself in the eyes of his fellow residents, but has to carry the stigma of being a criminal for the rest of his life. His only friend seems to be a humble veterinarian (Nuria Sotelo) that Amador meets when one of his mother’s beloved cows gets sick and starts to act erratically. At first she doesn’t know who Amador is – to her, he’s just another villager with a diseased animal. However, she soons learns the truth about her new friend, and their relationship, while never souring, takes on a new depth, as she proves to be the only person willing to look past Amador’s flaws, rather choosing to judge him on his merits as a person, rather than his previous actions, for which he seems to have atoned for. However, when the mountain catches fire again, many start to think it wasn’t quite force majeure, but an act of terrorism, with none other than Amador being the prime suspect – the combination of a knack for starting fires, and the anger that comes with being rejected from society does indeed imply that he is responsible – but is the past so inescapable that it would drive him to do such a thing?

There’s something so extraordinarily different about Fire Will Come (Galicia: O que arde), the highly-experimental rural drama directed by Oliver Laxe. It’s a film that feels compelled by some force much larger than the sum of its parts, and something much deeper than what it appears to be. Like what was done with his previous two films, Laxe takes an audacious approach to a very simple subject, delivering a searing drama executed with gorgeous pastoralism and intricate documentary-style realism, to the point where the boundaries between fact and fiction start to erode. Unquestionably a divisive film in every sense of the term, Fire Will Come is a daring series of portraits – of a group of individuals united by homeland, divided by the choices they make relating to it, as well as a depiction of a particular place. Not many films are set so prominently in Galicia, a region underexplored in the arts, both in terms of cinema and in literature in general. Certainly not a film that will appeal to everyone, Fire Will Come is a quiet, meditative drama that approaches its subject with immense dignity, but not without exploring some deeper recesses of the human condition, which gives the film a distinctly rugged, ruminative appearance that serves it incredibly one and makes it one of the most impressive films of the year, and one that should not reside in the relative obscurity it currently does, but rather be seen as a bold, gorgeous exploration of some themes far larger than it appears to be.

Laxe, in making Fire Will Come, created a work of art that resides right at the intersections between rural drama and pure visual poetry – a work that is less about the plot and more about the intentions underlying all the images, it comes across as a deceptively brilliant film that takes quite a bold approach, especially considering how the underlying plot, or what can be construed as being a storyline, is almost entirely secondary to the overarching themes that make it quite a significant, if not extraordinarily challenging work of postmodernism, so distinct in how it actively rebels against the idea of metanarratives, it even briefly returns to the Romanticism period, where the beauty and splendour of the countryside is very much evident, but only because Laxe, in using the gorgeous landscapes, goes in search of some deeper meaning in beauty of untouched nature. Fire Will Come is an inherently difficult film to talk about because there is so much that this film intends to say, but it’s all internalized within the viewer, creating a sense of quiet disorientation and alienation from reality that feels almost impossible to describe, but is still appreciated, especially in the context of a film that feels very much like something that very few filmmakers would ever dare create – to make something so intricate, but also extremely challenging to the point where it intends to divide viewers, is an intrepid decision, and while it could’ve so easily resulted in a film that would be boring at best, pretentious at worst, Laxe somehow overcomes the challenges and delivers one of the most extraordinary films of the year, but one we must acknowledge as being an intentionally flawed work, mainly because instead of being a single entity of uncompromising beauty, it breaks every convention, and in piecing together the fragments that remain, creates a deeply compelling masterpiece.

Fire Will Come is a film that does not avoid it’s very religious roots – Laxe is not afraid to infuse the film with the heavy Catholic imagery that likely shaped his own past, and which remains omnipotent in the region this film takes part in. Yet, this isn’t a film about religion as a whole – there is very little, if any, mention of a single deity, nor is there any overriding sense of celestial foreboding pervading the film. Rather, Laxe takes a more interesting approach, in looking at one of the most pivotal aspects of the religion that governs this film and using it as a means of commenting on something much broader. Forgiveness is a cornerstone of Christianity, and seems to be something the director is very interested in working through with this film – the character of Amador is a man newly released from prison, and who returns back home, bringing with him a set of past transgressions that, despite having already atoned for them, he is forced to carry with him forever, or at least as long as he’s around those who know of his actions. The film isn’t concerned with whether or not the character is innocent or not – there’s absolutely no discussion as to whether or not his imprisonment, which was for arson, was rightful or not, and Laxe deftly avoids making Fire Will Come a redemption story. He’s far more interested in looking at the aftermath of such an event as returning home from a lengthy prison sentence, and how someone has to endure the humiliation of having his past constantly held against him – and in the process, searching for some kind of forgiveness. Throughout the film, Amador does seek out forgiveness, but only from those who seem to matter to him – his mother, who has grown frail and broken in his time away, his friends and the quiet young doctor who enters his life, and who soon learns of his past. Forgiveness is a fascinating concept to be explored in a film like this, which doesn’t emphasize it in a way that feels overwrought but does make some kind of statement, which does make quite an impact.

Essentially, what Laxe is saying with this film is that recurrence is inevitable – the film feels very cyclical – it begins and ends with a massive fire, and the causes of both instances are left intentionally vague. We never learn whether either of them was due to nature or the work of someone with a vendetta against those who would be affected by such a catastrophe – but as the title suggests, the fire will come, which are words repeated by a group of firefighters anticipating the impending disaster. The question is, whether or not they were commenting on a natural occurrence, or anticipating the retribution by a man who not only had a history of starting fires, but also a motivation for doing it again. Laxe blends the concepts of humanity and nature brilliantly in the film, showing how they aren’t always separate entities – all of the characters in the film are salt-of-the-earth people (especially Benedicta Sánchez, who plays Amador’s mother, with such pathos and sincerity, and proves to be responsible for some of the film’s most striking moments, mainly due to her incredible authenticity), and they often are shown to be one with the land they inhabit. A large portion of Fire Will Come is spent showing the landscapes and the people who reside on it – this isn’t just done for the sake of showing the beauty of the region but as a way of demonstrating the harmonious balance between man and the natural world, and how the arrival of Amador, a man of great ambiguity, tends to either allow nature to take its course or completely throw it out of balance. Defiantly complex in what it wants to say, there is a certain intensity underpinning this film, and its portrayal of the natural world, that feels both compelling and terrifying, which is a statement all on its own.

Fire Will Come is a film that doesn’t beg for attention but rather exists as an entity to be discovered by those who come across it. It is a sedate, sombre rural drama that is ultimately extraordinarily poignant, if not often heartbreaking in how it approaches some deeply heavy themes, which it does through a combination of quiet intensity and heartfelt delicacy, never forcing this film to be anything other than a meditative drama about existential issues, a complex ode to the resilience of the human spirit, and our tendency to seek redemption, even when it isn’t always warranted. Laxe made a film that feels far bigger than it actually is – there’s a certain elegance underpinning this film that creates the illusion of something much broader when the truth is that while the film does take some very serious forays into grave matters, what makes it so effective is how uncompromisingly simple it also is. It doesn’t need to take any broad strokes, being fully aware that the most significant impact can come from the most intimate of places. It’s a tremendously fascinating portrait of the human condition, which Laxe paints with a bold fragility, crafting a memorable, if not almost ethereal, experience that lingers with an authenticity that most films struggle to ever achieve. A true gem of a film, it’s beautifully challenging work, and a piece of unmitigated experimental genius that paid off so brilliantly in one of the year’s most compelling and unforgettable dramas.