Road movie for migrants
23rd March 2013,
"The Road: A Story of Life and Death" doesn’t work as a documentary about the A5, which runs from the Welsh ferry port of Holyhead and ends at London’s Marble Arch. But it doesn’t matter, because it succeeds as a film offering insights into the lives of a handful of migrants.
By Daniel Nelson
The Road: A Story of Life and Death
Image by The Road: A Story of Life and Death
There’s a cultured Kashmiri hotel-worker, miserably missing his wife, wondering if he can last out without her, sustained only by Skype conversations; a young Burmese man who during the film tries becoming a monk; a 95-year-old Jewish refugee from Austria, living alone since the death of her husband about whom she has only harsh words; a former air hostess from Germany, maintaining a relationship with her ex-husband, though during one of her many absences he ran off with her best friend; and a young Irish singer, constantly seeking reassurance by sniffing the blanket she has brought with her.
They are not typical, though their comments and lives sometimes seem determined to reflect national stereotypes. They are painfully human and honest, as off-camera director Marc Isaacs gently lobs lethally personal questions, often drawing devastating answers.
These vignettes are superb, even if at times you feel like a voyeur. Their reasons for coming to London are diverse as the outcomes. What will happen to Keelta, who slips into an Irish pub community, where Billy, aimless and downed by drink, struggles to keep his grip on life? Peggy, the Viennese refugee, retains her spirit despite age and failing health and the lifelong burden of her mother’s murder by the Nazis. The moment she falls over, while walking along the street, is a shocking cinema moment that makes your heart lurch more than a thousand counterfeit car smashes or battle scenes. Like Peggy, ex-hostess Brigitte feels let down by her husband but has an irrepressible, let’s-get-on-with-it attitude that has enabled her to create a plush wonderland hotel, as self-contained and alienated from the street outside as the Burmese house. Iqbal, you sense, might feel disappointed with what his move to Britain has brought, but you also sense that he and his wife have the character and resources to create an honest, decent, loving life.
Isaacs' gift is for finding ‘ordinary’ people and getting them to speak. The drama and poignancy lie in their fascinating experiences – though two of them die during the making of the film. “It is a joy to discover how these individual stories talk to each other and more importantly to all of us,” Isaac says.
In a sense his film isn’t about anything in particular, yet it reveals more about migrants and aspects of migrations than reams of factual analysis.
It’s modest, but a delight. blog comments powered by Disqus
