Time is a concept that we all take for granted. We tend to perceive life as a linear series of events, days that turn into weeks, which subsequently turn into the variable months and years that we exist in the period that we all know quite simply as life. This is a peculiar way to start a discussion on a film, but when we’re looking at The Girl and the Spider (German: Das Mädchen und die Spinne), it is perhaps the best way to describe what Ramon Zürcher and Silvan Zürcher were doing with this bewildering but brilliant experimental film. Entering into a new canon of European cinema that is driven less by plot and more by atmospheric glimpses into the human condition, the film is an inventive and frequently surreal voyage into the lives of a group of modern individuals, all of whom are separated by every conceivable tool of division (whether culturally, socially or economically), but who still find themselves woven into each other’s lives. The Zürcher brothers represent a movement that is defined by efforts to dismantle cinematic conventions, and in the process comment on deeper issues that are often concealed by the veneer of tradition that often informs contemporary art. As a result, The Girl and the Spider is a raw and uncompromising work of cinematic brutalism, a stern but oddly endearing leap into the unknown by a pair of directors who are continuously reworking their understanding of narrative structure and purpose, inviting the viewer to join them as active participants in this strangely hypnotic journey into the mind of a young woman whose image of the world may be strange, but is undeniably fascinating to behold, especially as we come to realize the true depths to which the film is willing to venture. 

While some may be repelled by the idea, The Girl and the Spider is a film without much of a plot, something that it fully recognizes as being not only intentional, but the entire purpose of the project. Functioning as the kind of experimental film that isn’t just a series of arbitrary images projected one after the other with a deafening score and vague allusions of depth, but rather one that resembles a narrative film, but ceases to rationalize many of the ideas, almost as a means to put the audience at an intentional distance from the story, or rather the illusion of it. Even attempting to describe the plot of this film seems like a fool’s errand, since we are constantly standing on the precipice of some kind of logic, which is never fully in focus, instead existing in the background as we try and work our way through this dreamlike work constructed by the directors. However, our role as the viewer isn’t simply to complacently go along with the director’s peculiar approach to storytelling, and instead we are inclined to scramble for whatever meaning we can glean from these strange moments that masquerade as scenes – we almost find ourselves in direct opposition to the directors, who are challenging (or perhaps provoking would be a more appropriate description) the audience to look beyond the obvious and find something deeper than just a surreal series of moments. Anyone can throw together a few scenes that appear to hold deeper meaning and call it a film – but it takes an abundance of effort to willingly deconstruct the entire fabric of narrative composition in favour of demystifying reality, which we come to realize is far stranger than fiction could ever hope to be, at least from the directors’ perspective.

The images we’re presented with seem to be focused on a young woman coming to terms with her identity – whether it be her femininity or sexuality, or simply her place in a world that has ceased to make sense to her as a result of everything she thought to be true was proven to actually be a conjecture. The film is primarily a character study, a vivid depiction of the modern millennial and their insistence on standing out and believing themselves to be the protagonist of every story, which is frequently implied through the main character and her gradual realization of the true scope of reality. Without the incredible work by Henriette Confurius, who plays the main character of Mara, it is unclear how accessible or engaging The Girl and the Spider would actually be. There are around a dozen prominent characters that populate the film, but she is the common thread that ties the film together, the person whose existence in this world represents both the director’s artistic gaze, and the audience’s pathway into the film. It never announces itself as a queer film, and while it does openly reference several of the vital tenets associated with the new wave of queer storytelling that we are experiencing, it uses it as only one of the multitude of compelling ideas that are woven together to form the film. We watch as she questions not only her identity, but her entire existence – the world is a hostile place, which seems to be the ultimate thesis statement of the film, with the directors gradually composing a vibrant portrait of a young woman learning some harsh realities about her environment and the people that occupy the various spaces that surround her.

Some may consider The Girl and the Spider a coming-of-age story, a film about a young woman searching for her identity in a world hopelessly vacant of any of the answers that she so desperately seeks. Yet, the film is not solely about Mara or her journey – if anything, her perspective being so prominent actually dissuades the viewer from looking at it as such, since she is such an opaque narrator, she works more as a reactionary to other characters than she does a fully-formed protagonist. The film leaps liberally between perspectives, allowing us to be witness to a range of different characters and their purpose in the story. It leads to a fascinating conversation on the extent to which we are all part of a humanistic machine that is in perpetual motion – like the ebb and flow of the tide, or the cries of a seagull (which plays an unexpectedly important role in the film, especially in its concluding moments), humanity goes on, regardless of the individual challenges felt by its representatives. We see only a few of these stories, with the directors introducing us to a wide breadth of characters, each one an integral part of the film, forming an unforgettable tapestry of contemporary existence that is both thought-provoking and deeply meaningful. The Girl and the Spider has a very interesting approach to its characterization, focusing on a few individuals through the eyes of the main character, which is all tied together neatly in a coda that serves as one of the most evocative and captivating scenes of the past few years, both for the content (the narration conveying a wealth of beautiful ideas), and how it captures the most intricate and detailed aspects of existence, condensing them into a few brief moments that linger with us long after the film has ended.

The Girl and the Spider is certainly a disquieting existential odyssey that is both intimate and epic in scope, depending on how the viewer perceives the film. Our mileage may vary in terms of how we unearth the innumerable secrets that underpin the film, with part of the beauty of this story being the active process of decoding the peculiarities of the film, piecing together the fragments of what appears to be an impenetrable story that compresses the entirety of human existence into a few small moments, weaving them together with a thread composed of the kind of existential malaise that we don’t often find in contemporary cinema. It is hardly a coincidence that The Girl and the Spider starts with a static image of an architectural floor plan – it’s almost as if the directors are implying that the film that follows this brief and minimalistic prologue is going to serve a similar function, working as a detailed analysis of the psychology of one young woman and the people that exist alongside her. Ultimately, this film asks numerous questions, the answers to which are never clear – but the viewer never feels entirely at a loss, since the film is a puzzle, one that may seem intimidating at first, but with the right amount of attention, and an awareness of how every detail is integral to understanding the overarching narrative, we find ourselves happily getting lost in this mesmerizing world, where the solutions are lurking in plain sight, but yet still feel so hopelessly out of reach – and there has rarely been a better representation of the uncertainty that comes with entering into the independent stages of adulthood than we encounter here.