TIFF10 // Armadillo and The Four Times: Two masterworks

There is a shot in the documentary Armadillo of a wounded soldier, wide eyes staring blankly past the camera that is gripping in its immediacy. This is just one of many harrowing images in a film that presents a intimate perspective and an understanding of the war to the viewer using only razorsharp editing and well-chosen compositions.

Following several Danish soldiers in a platoon as they go on their tour of Afghanistan, the picture takes the approach of narrative filmmaking in its structure - dropping documentary conventions of interviews and b-roll and relying instead on the stunning footage to carry the story through.

The film successfully conveys the drudgery of the soldiers' life and their need for the sporadic bursts of violence which break up their daily monotony. These gunfights inject a sort of terrified adrenaline that seems as addictive as it is dangerous.

Armadillo builds in intensity as it pushes forward, taking on the aura of a slowburn thriller and climaxing in a riveting gunfight sequence that is astonishing for the risks the director and cinematographer clearly took. This sequence places you right in the thick of the battle, lending the footage an immediacy and authenticity that few other war films can claim to.

Director Janus Metz also chooses wisely to follow the aftermath and repercussions of this gunfight on the soldiers which lends the film much of its emotional weight. It's not a definitive document of the war - the film's focus is very intimate and, as the director mentions himself, we get little understanding of the Taliban, but it does document one side of the war thoroughly and with a balanced but sensitive hand. This is a film that brings the viewer closer into the soldiers' world than any other film has previously. As a result, it is one of the most visceral documents of war and its effect.

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The Four Times is another film that takes maximum advantange of the cinematic form. Initally following a shepherd on his daily routine, the film takes a spiritual turn as the shepherd dies and is reborn as a goat, following through these cycles two more times. The film builds a quiet power in its minimalistic approach, using the power of imagery to convey its themes, allowing one to revel in sounds and sights one would miss otherwise. As bizarre as its main premise is and as difficult as the meaning of certain scenes may be to grasp on first viewing, the film is surprisingly accessible in a cinematic manner and never loses its audience's attention, even injecting a sly humour in its compositions. Several of these shots are astounding in their mastery, especially a single precise take of a Catholic procession, a dog and a truck that leaves one wondering just how each element was coordinated and choreographed so perfectly.