Worth: $18.00
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Cast:
Tilda Swinton, Idris Elba
Intro:
… presents its convictions about the power of storytelling with such wide-eyed hope and reverence that it will likely win over even the most jaded of filmgoers.
In his documentary White Fellas Dreaming: A Century Of Australian Cinema, national treasure George Miller described the act of watching movies as “a ritual more awe-inspiring and compelling than church”. It is a description wrapped up in a childlike sense of wonder, of being utterly absorbed in a story put to the screen. That kind of passion for the art form has stuck with Miller throughout his career, from being chief architect of Mad Max to delighting all ages with Happy Feet, but it’s with his latest feature that the depth of that passion truly comes forth.
Through a lengthy conversation between narratologist Alithea (Tilda Swinton) and a mythical Djinn (Idris Elba), Miller sets out to reawaken a collective sense of enchantment that has largely been locked away behind walls of post-modern irony and self-reflexivity. It is a story about the joys of storytelling, both as spinning the yarn and listening as it spins. From ancient myths, to historical folk tales, to comic books, to everyday life; it casts a wide net in its view of what makes up a story, and embraces it all without a hint of self-consciousness. This is Danny Lim levels of purity, which makes it fitting that he and Smarty both appear in the film proper.
The trinity of Miller, DP John Seale, and editor Margaret Sixel that turned Fury Road into a gold standard for filmmaking craft retain their almighty power here in the visuals. Each flashback into the storied history of the Djinn is a technicolour whirlwind of delectable set design and transformative effects work, turning what would otherwise be a two-person play into a vibrant exhibition of what cinema is capable of. Even though there’s a familiarity with the story, which resembles a mosaic of the legendary One Thousand And One Nights, Tom Holkenborg’s achingly beautiful soundtrack, and the hypnotic timbre of Idris Elba’s voice, makes it all fresh and new again.
As far as it reaches across the ancient world and into our own, asking questions of the importance of dreams in a world decorated by the things that once only existed in dreams (the device you’re reading this on, as just one example), Three Thousand Years of Longing is remarkably compact. It ventures near two hours, but there is nary a moment where the weight of the subject matter becomes overbearing.
Three Thousand Years Of Longing is a love story about our collective love for stories. It presents its convictions about the power of storytelling with such wide-eyed hope and reverence that it will likely win over even the most jaded of filmgoers. George Miller adds another certified winner to his illustrious catalogue, and as long as he holds onto that youthful zeal and vigour, both he and audiences will continue to reap the benefits.
