Havarie

It's an image stretched toward infinity. Blue crosses it. Sea and sky mingle, and the sun draws silvery furrows. In the center, a dark spot whose blurred contours preserve its mystery. Occasionally, the blur becomes clearer, and we squint to make out its meaning.

93 minutes, during which the image expands to the point of abstraction. A slight flap reveals where it was taken from. A violet ray pierces the skies.

A shaky boat where 13 people are crammed together. A derisory island adrift. On a colossal cruise liner, a man films. The same people on both sides of the story.

In front of an image that's impossible to look away from, a soundtrack links the worlds that collide in this drama, tirelessly relayed on the news. Fragments of life intersect, making tangible the materiality of exile, the violence of international relations, and the absurdity of borders in the face of human tragedy. A painful meditation unfolds through the film's bloated temporality. But, somewhere, humanity holds firm: "We're keeping visual contact.”

Naomie Décarie-Daigneault
Tënk's Artistic Director