28. Mountain, directed by
Jennifer Peedom

Testing the Human Limits on the Sublime

By Rose Marel

 

An ode to mountains and an exploration of our relationship to them, Peedom’s Mountain moreover presents a meditation on the human condition, which proves to be just as captivating as the mountains themselves. By carefully folding music and visuals together, an unconventional and breathtaking film is formed, one that resembles art more than a traditional documentary. Peedom manages to somehow evoke the ineffable presence of mountains while touching us all differently as, over the course of the film, we revel in the physical magnificence of mountains and cycle through the many forms of interaction we have with them.

Richard Tognetti, the artistic director of the Australian Chamber Orchestra, was a huge collaborator in the completion of this film. He believes that the combination of sense stimulation – here being music with visuals – leads to a richer saturation of both. How we see the mountain is indisputably coloured by the orchestral score. In the beginning, the music is heavily dissonant, with aggressive and dark strings evoking a fear and menace in relation to grand images of mountains. Later, the score becomes lighter, playful or even, at times, melancholy. During a 360 degree panoramic shot of a man walking on a wire unharnessed over what could have been the Grand Canyon, a piano plays softly, echoing to me a sadness that seemed to ask: Why? What could compel a human to undertake such extreme actions?

Each viewer’s internal journey during Mountain will be entirely individual. This reflects our personal response to mountains in nature – some are drawn forwards in excitement, some backwards in fear, while others are left motionless in a sublime kind of paralysis. Thus, during any scene, what could elicit fear in one person could easily evoke admiration in another. This is somewhat the point, that the mountain’s song calls to us all differently and, for some, it may be as potent and enchanting as the siren’s call. As a line in the film says: “To those who are enthralled by mountains, their wonder is beyond all dispute. To those who are not, their allure is a kind of madness.” The orchestra’s soundtrack becomes the perfect means to reveal the multifaceted forces of mountains: beauty, size, unpredictability and unrestrained ferocity. Not to mention the emotions that these forces then provoke in us: fear, adoration, intimidation or ambition.

Prose is similarly unfolded over the visuals, written by Robert Macfarlane and read in velvety tones by Willem Dafoe, his voice an instrument in itself. While there’s no narrative arc per se, Peedom seamlessly travels from every type of activity possible on a mountain to highlight it’s certain addictive quality, moving from climbing, snow sports and mountain biking to skydiving and parachuting. The beginning is particularly strong. There were audible gasps from the audience when the camera flew towards what looked to be a red starfish plastered on the side of a mountain, only to realise it’s a man climbing glacially up a vertical mountain, without safety harness or wires. Extreme close up shots capture his hands, clasping tightly to a crack that is his handhold, or his foot, rooted perilously on what is barely a groove. Then, as we move over him, looking down at a drop that makes every theatre-goer’s heart stop, we see his face. Grinning. In ecstasy.

At other times, we are shown the flip side – how their overwhelming obsession is also despised. Men cry to go home, fingers are crushed to bleeding messes, bitter cold manifests itself as ice on their faces. Falling. Over and over again. You realise that mountain climbing is, in a sense, still relatively primitive: beyond a rope and harness there’s really nothing else. To fall is still to fall, and to fall is to fail. Albeit caught by the rope. This is nevertheless extremely dangerous, as we see climbers flung downwards or sideways, sometimes crashing into jagged rocks, needing desperately to guard themselves. Extreme snow sports, too, can lead to a seemingly endless tumble-turning downwards, creating their own personal avalanche.

Touching on the religious imagery of her past film Sherpa, Peedom shows spinning tops and Nepalese men and women praying. This time, however, she doesn’t delve into the spiritual significance, or the impact human interference on the mountains may have on religious adherents. Instead drone shots are heavily utilised, establishing a highly cinematic feature, rich with scenic shots. These sustained, moving views of different mountains allow space and time to settle, reiterating nature’s remoteness.

In contrast with this, snow sport passages are fast forwarded in a dance to lively musical movements, capturing our artificial manipulation of the mountain. In fast motion, even snow sports look like some sci-fi concept: lifts carrying load upon load of people upwards, like a human conveyor belt – are we mad? Beyond mere commercialisation, though, the appeal of the mountain is an emotional one. People engage in snow sports not merely because we can, but because of the thrill, which ties all of these activities together. Ultimately, to test the limits of our own mortality is to know that we are alive.

Mountain is perhaps less engaging that Peedom’s previous feature Sherpa. Moralistically intent on unearthing the exploitations and injustices of the mountain climbing trade, Sherpa was ultimately driven forward with purpose and fiery passion by this clear moral backbone. Mountain, in contrast has less of an overt intention, ethical or otherwise. But that doesn’t detract from the value of the work here. Mountain is a sensory feast, a unique documentary in the impressive collaboration between Tognetti and Peedom. The skill and effort to maintain the integrity of certain classical masterpieces while perfectly complementing them with specific shots is really beyond imagination.

When I first watched the film I craved to follow the journey of particular individuals, whether that be climbers, heli-skiers,or mountain bikers, to load the documentary with personal investment. I wanted to gain a deeper understanding of what it is exactly that they experience, or why they need to take such potentially fatal risks. But now I realise that this would destroy the timbre of the film and disrupt our own mental and emotional journey. Through weaving different art forms together, Peedom essentially pushes us into that space between magic and madness and makes us question which is stronger.