In the early 1970s, Tom Zé released an album that featured a particular song, “O Riso e a Faca” – it’s not widely considered one of his most famous compositions, nor one that is regularly discussed beyond the occasional mention. Despite this, the message at the heart of the song (the title translating as “the laugh and the knife”) is based around the idea of contrast, and how simply living involves the act of getting used to constantly being in a state of contradiction, as well as coming to terms with the fact that beneath the warm smile with which life greets us, there lingers violence, confusion and cruelty, all of which are often quietly at work. It’s certainly not surprising that this song forms the foundation of one of the vital moments in I Only Rest in the Storm (whose original Portuguese title is directly taken from the song, and whose English title is a translation of one of its most beautiful lyrics), one of the most daring and provocative pieces of cinema of the current decade. Written and directed by Pedro Pinho, the film follows Sérgio, an engineer from mainland Portugal who is sent to Guinea-Bissau to work with a non-profit organisation that is aiming to build a road to connect two tracts of land, and needs to collaborate with him to ensure all goals are met, and that the safety is up to scratch before the project can be greenlit. What starts as a relatively simple business trip into an exotic new destination for the reserved young man turns into a bewildering existential voyage into the heart of African culture, through which he not only discovers the different way of life that is rarely presented in its most vibrant form to outsiders like him, but becomes entangled with two beguiling strangers – the eccentric Guillherme (a Brazilian immigrant who has now chosen Guinea-Bissau as his home), and the mysterious native Diára, both of whom awakening something deep within Sérgio that he never knew he possessed, leading him down a fascinating and unconventional path of self-discovery. A film that is as ambitious as it is challenging, I Only Rest in the Storm is a staggering achievement by a filmmaker who represents an exciting new style of global cinema, one that blends cultures and philosophical inquiry into audacious examinations of the human condition and the underlying eccentricities that define our world and bind us together.

Despite being one of the largest continents (overtaken only by Asia) and having by far the largest number of countries and distinct cultures, a point that many have debated, Africa remains an enigma as far as cinematic representation goes. Within the borders of the continent, there are flourishing film industries, but the moment we step out of it, it’s difficult to find the same kind of acclaim and visibility afforded to films produced elsewhere. This unfortunate reality is both the foundation of I Only Rest in the Storm and something that seems to consolidate, even if not intentionally. For many, Africa represents the final frontier of exoticism – its often perceived as being one of the most inaccessible continents solely because of fears of crime and violence, a somewhat legitimate concern but also one that plays into the colonial view of the “dark continent”, which does an enormous disservice to the vibrant, rich cultures that populate it, and the many people who call it their home. Pinho is very interested in looking at this subject, and while he may be an outsider, coming from his native Portugal, he brings a unique perspective that we find admirable – and while some may assume an African filmmaker (particularly one from Guinea-Bissau itself, since that’s where the film is set in its entirety) would have been preferable, solely for the sake of bringing the right amount of cultural detail to the film. However, for a film about an outsider, it makes sense that a non-African director would be at the helm, granted he approached the film with the appropriate respect and sensitivity it required. What we find in the process is that I Only Rest in the Storm is a film about the postcolonial experience, from the perspective of both the coloniser and the colonised – the three key characters in this film are a Portuguese tourist, a Brazilian immigrant and a Guinean native. Brazil declared its independence from Portugal in the 19th century, Guinea-Bissau in the early 1970s – none of these people were alive at either of those moments, which means that they can’t officially be considered perpetrators or victims of imperialism directly, and it is in this dynamic that Pinho draws some of the most fascinating commentary, looking at how these people from three distinct cultures that are tethered together through a distant history of Portuguese occupation, interact, seeing the world in profoundly different ways and challenging each other in what turns out to be a congenial game of cat-and-mouse, the coloniser becoming the colonised in the process of allowing himself to become enveloped in the culture and its people.

As much as we can find value in what Pinho is exploring, his intentions are not merely to examine the postcolonial mindset on its own, but rather use it for the foundation of something deeper and far more compelling, which turns out to be a quietly devastating character study in which we are introduced to a group of people – not only the protagonist and his new companions, but a range of other characters that weave in and out of the film – who are all experiencing various challenges that the protagonist is sent to resolve (or at least offer to fix, giving them some hope), but which they know are only going to be hollow promises that never come to fruition in their entirety. However, this film is not about looking at the broken promises of post-colonialism in its own right, but rather using it as the spark to explore something deeper, which is the burden of the past and how it weighs on the protagonist, who is on a journey of self-discovery in which every perception he has of himself is brutally dismantled, replaced with a growing sense of curiosity for reinventing himself. This leads to some fascinating encounters with locals, who go from curios that he collects as part of his travels (a brutal reduction and one that borders on insensitive, but which is very much a factor in the film’s narrative as it examines the mismatch between different cultures, especially those between first-world and developing countries) to people who unlock something deep within him, a carnal craving that he never realised lurked within him, and which seemingly can only be satisfied through pushing his own personal boundaries. Pinho weaves a fascinating story that combines cultural conversation, particularly in how it follows someone learning that these customs are more than just what we believe them to be, but rather something much more profound, with a more metaphysical depiction of a young man discovering his identity is far more fluid than he initially realised, leading him down a path from which he knows there is no return.  Beneath all of this is a vigorous, provocative portrait of someone going on what he believes to be a relatively routine trip, but which turns into a weeklong exploration of the innermost architecture of his soul, in which everything he held to be true is not only questioned, but entirely redefined in the process. It’s tremendously compelling storytelling, and the more we observe Pinho’s carefully-crafted deconstruction of the human condition, the more stunning details we unearth in the process.

It certainly is far from an easy task to take such broad ideas and turn them into something as bold and engaging as this film. To not only successfully explore these ideas, but to do so in a way that feels like it is truly saying something unique, Pinho enlists the help of a terrific ensemble, all of whom are tasked with bringing these ideas to life on screen without resorting to anything that we would expect, since the element of surprise is the most valuable currency with which this film is trading. At the centre of the ensemble is Sérgio, portrayed by his namesake Sérgio Coragem, who represents the colonial power of Europe, the people who descended on Africa with the intention of extracting it of all of its resources, under the guise of providing support and assistance to those communities. However, the resources that he is seeking are not tangible, but rather cultural – he becomes immersed in their culture, and in the process discovers his own perspective shifting. However, regardless of how much he tries to assimilate, he can never truly blend in: he’ll always be the pale-skinned outsider who speaks the language these people were forced to learn, and yet it sounds so much less natural when coming from him. He’s joined by two exceptional talents that not only support his performance but threaten to steal the entire film from him in the process. Jonathan Guilherme is the flamboyant but captivating Gui, who has come from Brazil but very easily became a member of this community, since the one thing that binds these people together is their shared status as remnants of imperialism, and one colonised mind can represent them all. The other is Cleo Diára, who maybe delivers the most charismatic performance of the year, playing a woman who is constantly shifting her identity, to the point where her origins are entirely ambiguous, and we never know if the pieces of information we receive from her are authentic, or just part of her ongoing efforts to defy any kind of categorisation. Both actors are extraordinary, and work closely with Coragem to form the foundation of the film – they are all extremely magnetic, the film not only showcasing their inherent gifts, but feverishly underliving them, creating a dynamic trio of performances that serve as the vessel for an intimidating but brilliant piece of cinema that they help carrying through their unforgettable depictions of these seemingly ordinary people attempting to navigate worlds that they were not designed to conquer, despite their best efforts.

I Only Rest in the Storm is a monumental work, and I don’t only mean that in terms of how it explores certain themes – this is a film that is epic in scope. The film runs for over three and a half hours (and there is a cut that exists that runs for nearly six), which is an enormous amount of time to spend with these characters, especially in a film that isn’t driven by plot but rather by atmosphere. This film is a mood piece crafted around exploring the experiences of a man plunged into a world he only vaguely recognises, following his various attempts to make sense of his surroundings. It is superbly well-crafted, with Pinho being as good a filmmaker as he is a storyteller. This is not the kind of film that immediately announces itself, and a lot of it revolves around quieter and more subtle cues. Yet, in between these moments where we see something resembling plot progression, such as long conversations between characters, we see some truly impressive filmmaking on display. The cinematography by Ivo Lopes Araújo captures the striking beauty of Guinea-Bissau, both the arid desert landscapes and the urban areas in which the protagonist finds himself throughout the film. The rich photography paints a picture of a country we don’t often see represented on film, and while the surroundings may be relatively modest, there is a striking beauty lingering beneath the surface that makes this film a quietly complex spectacle, despite its clear simplicity. Tonally, I Only Rest in the Storm is also a marvel – it is visually striking, but it only manages to capture our attention through how it handles the more subtle nuances that linger beneath the surface of the narrative, with the story being one that is not only mentally stimulating, but also emotionally resonant. There is both a sadness and freedom in being isolated, existing in surroundings so unfamiliar that it can border on unsettling – and while many of us may not know that exact feeling in terms of physically being distant from home, the psychological component is certainly familiar, and grounds this film. For a film of this length, there is certainly no shortage of moments where it could become heavy-handed, but through delicate, elegant storytelling, it becomes absolutely seamless and natural in both structure and style.

I Only Rest in the Storm is a film that relishes taking its time, and those who are looking to experience this film, which is filled with fascinating ideas, should be aware that it’s not the easiest work. It is extremely long, at least in terms of the story it tells – it’s not plotless, but the storyline that runs through the film is quite paltry, and only exists to push the film along, giving some context to what is essentially a long string of vignettes connected by a few lengthy but fascinating conversations that range from the banal to the absurd, if not a combination of the two. If one can get past the meandering pace (which is by no means a flaw, but something that can be misunderstood by those who are not prepared), and are willing to really sit with these characters for nearly four hours, then the film is an absolute marvel, a beautifully-made existential odyssey built around a few characters searching for meaning in a world that has seemingly lost all of it. Pinho is someone with whom most of us will not be familiar, since his four previous features are much more obscure, but this film will immediately draw interest in him as an essential voice in contemporary cinema, and his unique vision and distinct style of storytelling will stand him in good stead as one of our most ambitious and daring directorial voices. 211 minutes is a long time to spend with characters this enigmatic, but we can easily understand it when we’re presented with such wonderfully charismatic performers, who can make these peculiar characters seem deeply human, so credit is also due to the central trio, as well as the large cast of ensemble players, the majority of whom are non-professional actors who happened to be locals recruited to appear in this film, lending it an additional layer of sincerity that cannot be manufactured. It’s all part of the experience that comes with making your way through this film, which intends to be an existential epic about identity, memory and sexuality, all of which blur together to form the foundation of this astonishingly complex, daring examination of the human condition and its various peculiarities, all of which are fully on display, ripe for analysis of what is likely going to become one of the defining works of Lusophone cinema of this century, and a truly extraordinary work overall.