Lamaland (Teil I)

Here is the embodiment of Nihilism, perhaps the ultimate diabolicexpression: Life moves nowhere; there is no plan, no telos; the present circulates endlessly, repetitively, and the matter of the world itself is falling down into the abyss. Within this bloodless ontology, two brothers who survived a religious, “utopian” experience in the 1880’s are devoted to stubbornly perpetuate themselves in a world marked by monotony and lack of action. The worn-out bodies of the Schweikhart brothers – the last witnesses of the Arian community founded by Elizabeth F. Nietzsche in 1887, in a place that was known as Nueva Germania – seemed to be destined to putrefaction, just as all living things surrounding them. The ethnical madness is only perceived when we hear Richard Wagner’s music and the brothers rest. Also, when the only word pronounced out loud is the term “Satan.” What makes Sigg’s film uncomfortable is his obstinate determination to maintain an intolerable degree-zero of narration. This entails long shots and mechanical activities; the greatest mystery is born out of the sound of some tension wires and the only activity that goes against the grain of this portrait on the consecration of nothingness itself has to do with the resistance that the sound – conceived as a first-rate nature – has to ofer. (Roger Koza)

In the presence of Pablo Sigg