What is art other than just finding creative ways to tell a story? Every individual that has been compelled to create something has done so in order to convey a particular message, whether it is capturing something external in the world that surrounds them, or a more subtle meaning embedded within their minds. We are all storytellers in our own way, and we are perpetually presented with a series of blank canvasses, onto which we are able to paint the most vivid pictures, whether with strokes of a brush or simply with words. This is the entry point taken in Three Thousand Years of Longing, the most recent film written and directed by the iconic George Miller, who returns after a sabbatical of several years with yet another wildly ambitious and thought-provoking experimental film. Adapted from the short story “The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye” by A. S. Byatt, the film is a fascinating voyage through the past, told through a series of conversations between a lonely academic and a djinn who she inadvertently set free while in Istanbul. Over the course of a few discussions, they each share their lives in the form of stories, each one a well-crafted narrative that gives insights into both their experiences, as well as the entire history of the world as they see it, which is so carefully compacted into this daring and evocative work. An exceptionally original work (almost to the point where it becomes something of a hindrance in terms of how it layers certain expectations on the viewer), but one that grows increasingly more beautiful the more time we spend with it, Three Thousand Years of Longing is a work of extraordinary complexity, and one of the most sincerely complex fantasy films we’ve encountered in recent years, all drawn from the mind of a singular artist whose perspective on a range of themes were so beautifully explored throughout this film.

Anyone that made a masterpiece like Mad Max: Fury Road (one of the rare times in recent years where an action film has resonated with audiences and critics in terms of both visceral and intellectual appeal) is immediately going to be presented with a blank cheque in order to make absolutely any project that they want, and while Miller has made it clear that the post-apocalyptic wasteland occupied by Max Rockatansky and a bevvy of other eccentric characters that he so meticulously created is his primary passion and the world in which he is most excited to return (especially after the recent success that catapulted him back into being one of our most interesting working filmmakers), it is wonderful that he found the time to make this film, which may not be on the same creative level as some of his other work, but carries with it an audacity that makes up for some shortcomings. It is a much more intimate film, and has broad overtures of the kinds of small-scale dramas that Miller would make in between more ambitious productions, just with the added benefit of featuring some absolutely stunning sequences set in the past, present and future, which are all executed so beautifully by Miller and his team of creative collaborators, who work meticulously to weave together this astonishing and deeply mystifying blend of fantasy, psychological drama and romance, which are all bound by an extraordinary commitment to taking a bold premise and ensuring that it is seen through to the very end, which is one of the more distinct and admirable qualities about Miller – his work may be divisive and polarizing in terms of tone and style, but he always crafts it with the most punctilious attention to detail.

For a film about storytelling, Three Thousand Years of Longing is very smart in drawing distinctions between the concept of reality in opposition to fiction, which are two concepts that should hypothetically be mutually exclusive, or contrastive at best, but here are interwoven into something deeper and far more meaningful. Miller approaches every aspect of this film as if it is an essential piece of a puzzle, a component of a broader and sprawling story. After all, what is the past but a story that we tell ourselves regularly? History books are nothing more than the stories of yesterday told by people who took on the responsibility to recording them for posterity, supposedly doing so without any unconscious bias. As we see throughout this film, bias is not only inevitable when it comes to even the most factual stories, but it is also something that should not be avoided, since nothing can ever be entirely true, and will change depending on perception and the person actually telling the story. It’s an approach that sets the foundation for the film, which is especially effective in the first half, where the collision between sensible logic and implausible abstraction lead to a series of conversations between the two main characters, who are drawn from wildly different cultures and time periods, but come together to form a close friendship, bonding over their mutual loneliness, as well as the shared love for stories, which are the fuel that have kept them grounded in a world that is often not conscientious of how everything we do is simply contributing in a small way to the intimidatingly enormous tapestry that is the history of the human condition, which is explored with razor-sharp wit and depth by the director. 

One of the most exciting aspects of Three Thousand Years of Longing from when it was first announced was the casting. Tilda Swinton and Idris Elba were recruited to not only work with Miller for the first time, but also have their first collaboration. In theory, these are two actors who are exceptionally gifted, but rarely seem to be working within the same circles when it comes to the kinds of projects they take on (outside of some slight overlap in terms of franchises in which they both appeared). It was a slight risk to cast two extraordinarily different actors as characters who are designed to have a kind of insatiable chemistry, but like Miller has proven on countless occasions, his gambles are not without merit, and they almost always produce exciting results. Swinton and Elba are playing to their strengths, but also challenging themselves in creative ways, which allows the film to maintain a steady tone where it is made abundantly clear that neither of these characters are necessarily the most complex on the surface, but speak to a deeper sensibility that makes sense when put in context. It’s difficult to imagine any other actors being able to capture both the humility and grandiosity represented by these characters – who else but Swinton could infuse a bookish schoolmarm with so much ethereal depth, which is comparable to how Elba takes an otherworldly being like an ancient djinn and transforms him (physically and emotionally) into someone with real human emotions, while still keeping that sense of peculiarity. It’s strong work from two of the most gifted actors we have working today, and the film functions as an extraordinarily strong two-hander, giving them both the opportunity to expand on these fascinating characters and bring them to life with nothing but the most forthright commitment.

Three Thousand Years of Longing both an outlier in his storied career, and a film that is so perfectly adherent to the pioneering vision he has shown for nearly half a century, so it’s not in the least bit surprising that this is a film that is bound to be slightly misunderstood, especially amongst those who are expecting something slightly more conventional, rather than a work inspired by the likes of Sergei Parajanov and Alejandro Jodorowsky, both of whom seem to be important influences here, amongst others. This film showcases Miller’s prowess as not only a great storyteller with a deep commitment to conveying rich, meaningful narratives, but also as a visual stylist, which is not necessarily surprising, but is something that we often tend to forget when taking stock of some of the more iconoclastic modern directors when it comes to pushing boundaries. The film is built from the contrast of the intimate, almost sterile simplicity of the modern world (which mostly manifests as a single hotel room for more of the film), with the lavish and lush detail of the past, which the film visits frequently, leaping between time periods to juxtapose the emotional and psychological evolution of humanity, portraying it in lavish detail. His work as a filmmaker is absolutely stunning, and he frequently manages to push the boundaries of his craft in a way that is incredibly impressive. How he manages to so effectively capture the ennui inherent to the loneliest people, and placing it in contrast with the seemingly endless worlds constructed throughout the narrative, is further proof that he’s one of the more creative filmmakers working today, and his ability to hand over the reins to cinematographer John Seale, who is responsible for the beautiful imagery, as well as the entire team responsible for the visual and aural landscape of the film, only strengthens the entire film, making it such an immersive and captivating experience.

Three Thousand Years of Longing is a film that was always bound to be slightly misunderstood, especially since it occupies quite a strange position in the culture. It is not challenging enough to be on the level of sprawling metaphysical masterpieces like The Three of Life, nor does it have the benefit of a built-in audience like many franchise films that will be seen and adored, regardless of quality. It is essentially nothing more than a wildly ambitious standalone fantasy film that contains some polarizing subject matter, and is executed with a tone that can be quite inconsistent for those who are expecting something that follows a particular formula. By this point we should realize that, with the exception of a few films, Miller is far from a conventional filmmaker, and his forthright dedication to going in search of something original has become part of his identity as an artist. He may work sporadically and take long breaks between films – but this has allowed him to become one of our most versatile auteurs, someone capable of both sides of every conceivable extreme. Three Thousand Years of Longing makes a very strong case for giving directors – whether seasoned veterans or rambunctious newcomers – the time and space to realize their vision, since the grandiosity that can come from taking a risk like this proves that there is always merit in large-scale filmmaking that is not based on a beloved existing property, and that there is an audience for solidly-crafted, deeply meaningful original films of this scope. It makes for suitably enduring viewing, and leaves us in a state of deep thought – and while it isn’t as challenging as it could have been (since it was aiming to still be accessible), Three Thousand Years of Longing is a magnificent and well-composed achievement that once again proves the unimpeachable majesty and extraordinary charm that comes with a simple story that is told well.