Fun
Frisky
Nostalgic
Intense
Adventurous
Choked Up
Curious
Romantic
Weird
From the first breathtaking shot of Ai Weiwei‘s Human Flow, the enormity of what we are about to witness is made painfully clear. There’s a literal sea, yes, but also a sea of people, an ocean of individuals displaced from their homes because of civil unrest and the eventual effects of climate change. Shot over a year in 23 countries, Human Flow chronicles the relentless movement of refugees fleeing their home countries in pursuit of a better, or at least safer, existence. While we might see headlines every few months reminding us of the turbulence abroad, Weiwei’s sweeping film reminds us that for millions, this crisis doesn’t stop just because the mainstream coverage of it does.
According to The U.N. Refugee Convention, “a refugee is a person with ‘a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion’.” Their reasons for fleeing may be different, but they’re united in one thing: the hope for an unthreatened life, one free of oppression and violence. People leave their countries because of “missiles falling like rain”, because of being persecuted for their religious beliefs, because they cannot be sure that they’re safe in their own homes. While we may have heard more about Syria as of late, Weiwei travels to countries all over the world to show us just how serious – and widespread – this epidemic is. He travels to Kenya, Malaysia, Israel, Jordan, and many North American and European ports of call. This is a universal issue, a fate experienced by men, women, and children with nowhere else to turn.
Weiwei masterfully presents us with the big picture and then hones in on the human stories that give life to the film. There may be moments of hope and optimism, sure, but there is no sugar-coating here. This crisis is only getting worse, and if there is ever going to be a solution, we have to face facts. This living hell must be made as real to us as possible, and Weiwei is here to paint that picture, whether we like it or not. Human Flow‘s images and stories are often presented without comment, because they don’t need any – the severity and magnitude of this international emergency speaks for itself, and that’s largely thanks to Weiwei’s patient camerawork and understanding of his subjects.
Human Flow‘s lengthy runtime might seem daunting, but don’t let it act as a deterrent. Each shot is a necessary one, and this time commitment only serves to further capture the scale of the issue being discussed. It’s an ambitious, expansive project, and it’s clear that Weiwei has poured his heart and soul into it so that we can see the hearts and souls of the millions affected by this devastation. There’s something absolutely flooring about the way the film opens and closes; that dazzling, serene imagery of the water from above, and the ensuing distress and fear felt by the thousands crammed into tiny boats as they set out in search of something better. It’s vital that this situation become personal so that we confront the reality of it and look closer for answers – and that’s exactly what Human Flow forces us to do.
