There is a quote by the master storyteller Herman Melville in his timeless classic Moby Dick that I absolutely adore: “As for me, I am tormented by an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts”, which is a beautiful and evocative description of the desire to seek out that which is unknown to us. It’s also a perfect way to start a discussion on Le Lac, the most recent offering from Fabrice Aragno, a masterful craftsman of experimental cinema, which challenges and comforts in equal measure. In this film, we are introduced to Anna and Vincent, a married couple who are participating in a sailing competition on Lac Léman (otherwise known to some of us has Lake Geneva), which is a challenging but fulfilling process, and one that both are willing to brave to hopefully emerge victorious. However, time begins to move in unexpected ways, revealing the complexities within these people’s minds, as well as the quiet strain afflicting their otherwise pleasant marriage. Over the course of a few days and nights, they immerse themselves in a journey that takes both a physical and emotional toll on them, the endurance required to not only complete this race, but remain psychologically afloat being the main propellant. A film that is less about a coherent story, and more a transcendental meditation on nature and the human condition (which the director posits are influenced by one another), Le Lac is a challenging and intriguing work. It may not be a film that will work for absolutely every viewer, but those who are able to leap onto its wavelength may find a lot of value in what Aragno is attempting to communicate. Functioning as both a piece of visual poetry and a series of deep philosophical reflections, the film invites the audience to participate in this invigorating exploring of the emotional rhythms of everyday life, particularly in terms of the protagonists’ reflections on the natural world, set on one of the most beautiful bodies of water in Europe, which in turn becomes a living, breathing presence all on its own.

The foundation of Le Lac is built on one very simple theme: the convergence of human emotion and the natural world, which we don’t normally see existing in dialogue with one another. It’s not an easy film, but the most appropriate entry point for the viewer is to focus on the fickle boundary between people and the landscapes that surround them, how they both tell individual stories, and can come together to communicate many different ideas. This is where Aragno builds most of this film, particularly in his decision to frame nature as an active character more than just the setting for the action of the film – and a large part of why this film works is because of its visual approach, rather than its narrative, which is present throughout, but which ultimately proves to be secondary to the aesthetic elements. There is a push-and-pull in how he explores the two central motifs – the people are portrayed as static, unmoving and distant, while the landscapes are personified with a kind of intimacy we usually see reserved for human protagonists. This creates a poetic inversion that blurs the boundaries between the two primary subjects, creating a dynamic and unique approach that Aragno clearly believes to be intriguing enough for us to be drawn into his hypnotic world. The director is clearly a student of a wide range of cinematic practices, drawing from many different sources – and it’s his clear appreciation for silent cinema itself that anchors Le Lac, since much like those early works, this film is built around communicated narrative and emotional cues thorough visual rhythm and non-verbal cues, rather than depending on spoken words, which are intentionally sparse throughout this film. The subtle shifts in visual compositions invite the viewer to read the emotional states with an intimacy we rarely find in more traditional films that tackle similar subjects. Long, unbroken takes and dynamic camera angles are used to capture the natural surroundings, which reflect the ebb and flow of the central couple’s relationship. The film moves at a quiet, meditative pace that evokes the passage of time in a way that is absolutely ingenious and strangely unique, somehow being both steady in how the plot progresses, while also remaining stagnant in certain moments, a contradiction that is nothing if not incredibly intentional.

It becomes clear almost immediately that the director is intent on crafting a film that acts primarily as an immersive sensory experience. The visuals are clearly the primary focus, and the film does exceptionally well in establishing a clear statement of purpose. However, Le Lac is also a masterful example of aural architecture, with the sound design of the film being as impressive as the visual elements. There is an absence of a traditional score, but this is still a melodic film, with the sounds of the natural world forming the basis for a lot of the most memorable moments. This is as important to communicating the underlying emotions as the cinematography – the roar of the crashing waves interweaves with the whispers of the wind and the delicate songs from unseen birds. It’s not just a case of paying attention to the natural sounds that surround the location, but actively using them as orchestrations, meticulously pieced together to reflect not only the beauty and tranquility of the natural world, but also as a vessel to communicate the quiet tensions that exist between this couple. It’s a keen, perceptive work that compensates for the minimal use of dialogue (which only exists to say what cannot be communicated non-verbally) and alludes to deeper narrative implications that flow throughout the film and only come to mean something after some time has elapsed. The sparing verbal communication heightens the audience’s attention to the elements that we would normally overlook entirely, the ambience working in conjunction with the visual component to cultivate a kind of empathetic but quietly provocative series of emotional shifts. Silence is an underused technique to communicate deeper ideas – and in Le Lac, it functions as a reflective space, allowing the audience to inhabit the emotional and temporal rhythm of not only this race, but also the broader relationship between this couple. The vastness of the lake and its inherent unpredictability are amplified, producing a quiet tension that mirrors the physical exertion of these characters as they fight against the elements, mostly in intentional silence.

However, while the overall purpose of Le Lac seems to be on the technical elements (which are undeniably very impressive), there is still a story being told here, and the themes that govern the film are still quite engaging, even if they do prove to be secondary to the sensory elements. This is a film about endurance in many forms, whether it is participating in a grueling regatta or navigating a marriage that seems to gradually become more strained, which is, in turn, undercut by some fascinating conversations around psychological and emotional intimacy, as well as the fragility of the human condition. The race that the protagonists are participating in becomes something of a metaphor for their lives overall – the persistence required to make it to the end, as well as the importance of co-operation and the assessment of one’s own limitations as a means to confront seemingly insurmountable challenges. Their shared struggle highlights the interplay between vulnerability and solidarity, which suggests that true human connection often emerges in times of mutual reliance to overcome enormous challenges. The relentless passage of time is reflected in every moment, with Anna and Vincent spending each moment trying to navigate uncertain waters, both literally and metaphorically, showing the importance of finding patterns and consistency in unpredictable situations. It all works towards the gradual unfolding of the human experience, underscoring the endurance of these people who willingly participate in such grueling activities, solely for the purpose of achieving a sense of accomplishment, or at the very least finding the value in such a challenge. The process of blurring human experience with natural boundaries is a fascinating choice, especially as we see the couple (portrayed brilliantly by Clotilde Courau and Bernard Stamm) facing exhaustion and exhilaration in equal measure, their continuous act of contemplation echoing the lake’s oscillation between stormy and serene, and much like the water on which they are sailing, their relationship is endlessly shifting, creating a symbiotic relations between emotions and their environment.

Le Lac is certainly a film that doesn’t immediately announce itself as some astonishing work, but rather quietly and methodically burrows its way into the mind of the viewer, who is asked to be patient, encouraged to inhabit the visual and emotional textures of the race that serves as the foundation of the film, and by extension participating as passive observers into the lives of this couple and their marriage, which seems to face an uncertain future. A beautifully-made film with some of the most striking cinematography of the year – every frame demands our patience and willingness to simply observe without acquiring any coherent answers, and instead encourages us to inhabit the physical and emotional textures of this story, even if from a distance. Le Lac is a film about a couple in motion, both literally and metaphorically, showing their moments of synchronicity and those in which they move out of step with one another as a result of the resistance caused by both the lake’s unpredictable currents and their own inner quandaries. Aragno has discussed the concept of “deep inner agitation” in relation to this film, which forces us to consider the physical and spiritual dimensions of this film, demanding attentive viewing and inviting an emotional vulnerability that parallels the protagonists’ exposure to this lake. Built from a critical discussion around the elements and how humans exist within these natural landscapes, but also hinting at much deeper and profound meanings lingering beneath the surface. It’s a film that could be considered slightly opaque and difficult to decipher, especially if one approaches it with the expectation of finding a very traditional relationship drama or sports story, neither of which factors into this film. Complex, engaging and intentionally challenging, Le Lac is a fascinating work, and one that demands our attention and earns it through actively exploring some intriguing ideas in an unconventional but undeniably beautiful manner.