Vesper (2022)

For me, the most important aspect of a sci-fi is world-building. It doesn't have to be action-packed, nor does it necessarily require a complex storyline. It should transport me to a world that is different from our own - one that is surprising, disturbing, shocking, frightening, or simply captivating.

The best sci-fi doesn't even need a plot. Instead, it allows me to explore a world alongside its inhabitants. It doesn't rely on grandiose words or one-dimensional characters of good versus evil. It doesn't need a narrator. A good sci-fi should not be explained; it is best when I don't fully understand it.

I don't understand the technology, the institutions, the laws, the customs, or the relationships between people in this world. I don't know who is who. It is up to me to discover these things along the way, and that is the true plot of a sci-fi. It is my journey of discovering this new world.

A sci-fi can even be made around a trip to the grocery store, if the smallest details are surprising, new, and different, and if, by the end, you realize that you've just watched a story about a grocery run for an hour and a half, and not only are you not angry, but you're actually upset that it's "only" a film. This is what sci-fi means to me.

Vesper, a French, Lithuanian, and Belgian co-production, is a film that embodies these qualities.

 

On the one hand, Vesper follows the expected and accepted tropes of its genre. A dystopian future, pandemic, hunger, survivors struggling to survive, and a new dictatorial order. The recipe has been familiar since Mad Max. This topic is very popular, and for good reason. In the shadow of the climate crisis, and after the COVID-19 pandemic, the known world is crumbling before our eyes.

However, Vesper does not have a galactic overview of the course of events. There is no small rebel group fighting against an evil empire, nor is there a commander sent back in time to prevent the robots from taking over. These are global narratives.

Vesper, who is a girl, is digging the muddy ground in search of edible roots, and things just happen to her. She is neither strong nor particularly intelligent or cunning. She is not a leader, she does not undergo significant character development, nor does she rise to the forefront of rebellion and overthrow the evil empire. She is frail, weak, cries, despairs, steals, lies, and, above all, runs away and hides. She is like a pinball bouncing around, sometimes appearing heroic, and at other times incredibly powerless, helpless, naive, and foolish.

Many critics have criticized the storytelling as the film's weak point, but I disagree with them. If the film had a straight, well-written, predictable storyline, it would suggest that this dark future could be controlled through action. I believe that the reason why Vesper's story is so paradoxically tangled is that they wanted to remove the superhero element from it. Once you take away the charisma, superpower, and savior, everything becomes contingent. Death is random (and doubly tragic) and so is redemption. Vesper is a hero who was just blown away by the wind. And for me, this is much more credible and believable.

In my opinion, this film should not be watched in this dimension. The small nuances of the world portrayed in the film are what make up the real plot. It is more of a visual story, a prolonged video clip of the whole thing, rather than a film that tells a traditional story.

It was shot in Lithuania, which I think was a great choice. Living in Estonia for almost 10 years completely extinguished the romance of being a lonely hermit, retreating from civilization. I don't know if it's fun to stretch out for a cluster of wild grapes somewhere in southern Italy, under the shade of lemon, orange, and olive trees, but it's certainly not the case in harsh Northern Europe. Even the sky is scary, forever gray if not stormy. Windstorms squeeze entire forests, icy rain sends blades of water horizontally into your face, and the remaining trees wave their arms like monsters. Nothing grows in the thin, skinny soil, even the best apples are withered, bruised, and pale yellow. You can nibble on the small wild berries, knee-deep in the undergrowth or the swamp, and watch over your shoulder for bears. Hundred-year-old, musty wooden houses offer shelter, but not just for you, but also for ants, beehives, snakes, beetles, owls, and mice. The sauna is a smoky bath, which is not just smoky in name, but after the first day, it gives you the face of a steam locomotive driver. Thick log houses have few windows, usually standing alone in the forest hundreds of meters away or even out of sight of the neighbor. If there are five such houses, then it's already a village, but there are no streets, only the forest, the moss-covered wooden house, and the wild darkness. People move silently around the house, wrapped in rags, like silent shadows. The most frightening things, however, are the abandoned, empty houses. 70-80 years later, they still stand stubbornly, covered in plants, with a collapsed roof, and a dark, howling interior, speaking of their owners who were deported by the Russians in 1944 and never returned from Siberia. It's a silent scream, that no one will hear, because the wind and the storm override everything.

This was not a description of the Vesper film, but of the Baltic states, without any dystopian sci-fi. This is the reality of rural life, closeness to nature, seclusion, and greenery in that region. In that climate, nature is not a friend, but a constant struggle for survival.

All that was needed was to add a 13-year-old girl digging for roots in the muddy soil in the continuous gray fog, and we got a dystopian sci-fi. Based on this solid foundation, the authors built a fantastic world where every plant, every living creature reaches out to drain something from you with its tendrils. The machines bring the steampunk atmosphere or the well-captured dirty and worn world of the newer Star Wars films, and there is no joy in anything, yet it is all very beautiful. I cannot decipher what the secret is. It became colorful, interesting, and beautiful in such a way that it operates with very similar elements to the gaudy Avatar, yet is its complete opposite.

The other dimension in which the film excels is the acting. There are no massive crowd scenes, spectacular battles, or monumental futuristic cities. We see them from a distance, and it can be impressive.

There are people, wretched people. The protagonist Vesper plays fantastically, but so does her uncle, who embodies the evil character, who is both related and a dangerous enemy.

From this film, a world could be built with endless sequels.