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Whoever arranged to bring Baraka to the big screen after Oregon legalized marijuana deserves a medal.
This tour de force of time-lapse photography spans the globe, the cycles of the moon and every color of the rainbow, with messages that are so fundamental and profound that age, language and THC levels will have no bearing on your ability to enjoy this fine art film.
A decade before Ron Fricke conceived the masterful 1992 non-verbal narrative feature, he cut his teeth as cinematographer on a similar venture, titled Koyaanisqatsi. What he learned about non-verbal filmmaking and high-end, time-lapse photography came in handy when he began the long process of composing a "guided meditation" in the forgotten 65 mm format.
Before Fricke could begin shooting, he had to build his own custom time-lapse camera, which he and his collaborators programmed with an early motion-control computer system. The production was scheduled around phases of the moon to take advantage of optimal lighting conditions. The spiritual aspects of the process don't seem to be lost on the filmmakers, since nature, humanity and interconnectedness are themes throughout.
Baraka begins with sublime nature footage, followed by a dangling carrot of cuteness: snow monkeys soaking in hot pools while snowflakes drift onto their fur. Montages of morning rituals from civilizations around the world follow. We hear temple bells ringing, see young men donning kippahs at the Wall of Crying in Jerusalem and watch dervishes slowly begin to whirl. By this time, the viewer is swept into a calm and psychedelic landscape of subtly shifting global echoes. The amount of ground covered is staggering, yet the universal similarities are impossible to ignore.
The film's crew booked its journey around the world in loops. For the first trip, they chose locations with the most opportunities to capture nature, spiritual life, urban activity and astronomical events. Then, they returned to America to develop and edit their footage and plan the next round. In this way, they avoided both exhaustion and superfluous imagery. Color balance and vividness were paramount concerns.
While Koyaanisqatsi boasted a soundtrack by Philip Glass, Baraka features music from around the world. Michael Stearn's score fill in the gaps, helping the glass and precious metal interior of the Iranian mosque Shah Cheragh seem even more scintillating.
The scenes look a bit dressed up at times, but the stirring images of sweatshop factory workers and mass-produced chicken farming are still alarming.
The overall effect is both perfectly achieved and utterly meaningful. Homeless bodies sleeping on the street have never seemed quite so color-coordinated.
Critic's Grade: A
SEE it: Baraka plays at the Hollywood Theatre. 7 pm Friday-Sunday, April 22-24. $12.
Willamette Week