Holy Days

Narimane Mari makes films that can better be described via dreams than via words. Every scene is a small sensation that passes through us, with each new image reminding us of something we forgot from the previous shot. A beautiful observation of birds picking food from naked human feet is followed by one of birds’ feet trying to touch a flower. We see a man digging his own grave. Like the synsacrum of a bird, there is an unknown quality to Mari’s recent work that employs the strategies of silent cinema, linked to balancing a specific moment in time. Maybe we learn to fly, maybe we accept falling. (Viennale)