White cherry blossoms bloom from the sky as a tragedy is about to change the course of a religious fishing community on the shores of Lake Peipsi, the body of water that separates Estonia from Russia. As relatively familiar as this description might sound, “8 Views of Lake Biwa” by writer-director Marko Rath is more of a dreamlike folk tale – set sometime during the 20th century.y century — of pastoral realism.
For starters, Raat took the title, as well as the names of each part into which the narrative is divided, from a series of centuries-old Japanese paintings (in turn inspired by ancient Chinese art) that depict picturesque views from vantage points along its namesake Lake Biwa. Close to Kyoto city. While the geographic location in the film is nowhere near that Asian country, in this imagined reality, it appears that Rat’s characters could travel to Japan by boat without much trouble, as if it were just a short trip across the lake.
In the form of whispered prayers and poetic musings, the character’s inner monologues unfold in soft voice-over throughout this dark romantic drama that served as Estonia’s entry for the Academy Award for Best International Feature Film. As one tries to understand the mythology of this place, which seems almost impenetrable and yet is woven into every aspect of the plot, Rat’s collected score overwhelms the mind, until its stark mystery slowly begins to emerge.
Although it’s not obvious at first, “8 Views” intertwines the stories of several people who suffer because fate (or the Christian god they devoutly worship) took the person they loved. To overcome the sadness, they now try to force this feeling again with someone else, but the result is disappointing. The characters face one devastating grief after another.
Take Õnne (Tiina Tauraite), a local teacher who begins a relationship with Andrei (Meelis Rämmeld), a troubled fisherman with a devastating secret, right after her husband Sora (Jan Uuspõld) dies in a mysterious accident. Or, in one of the film’s strangest chapters, Roman (Hendrik Tompere Jr.), a widower and the town’s fishing inspector, hires a blind woman known as Rabbit Eye (Marja Jakobsson) to be his wife for a few months after a god-given dream he had. Before that, she had been held captive all her life and forced into sexual slavery. But no matter how complicated the situation, Rat solves it with an admirable flair for revenge, unlike the punitive God of the Bible. No selfish act goes unpunished at this lakeside refuge.
The stunning images provide a disorienting backdrop to the human drama. Early on, cinematographer Sten-Johan Leal takes wide, ethereal shots of the lake, where the pale water and sky covered in almost white-lined clouds blend into each other, separated only by a blurred horizon line, as if heaven and earth had finally met. become one. Wind turbines move in unison while bathed in the waning pink light of dusk. There is a paradise-like image of multiple girls walking on the water among cherry trees. These conjure an otherworldly allure that matches the overall melancholic tone that Ratt imbues each element.
For a while, “8 Views” functions partly as a coming-of-age vehicle for Hanaki (Elena Masing), Roman’s awkward teenage daughter and her best friend, Seychelles (Kart Kokota). The couple promised each other to never grow old. They conclude that the adult world is filled with many burdens of the soul. But Hanaki’s sexual awakening threatens this agreement. When a yacht docks in town, she immediately gives in to her growing desire for an older man. On the walls of Hanaki’s bedroom, religious symbols mix with fetish pegging drawings, suggesting the duality ruling her young mind. In a layered performance, Masing’s mischievous behavior in the early chapters disappears as the character ages and is replaced by the adult disillusionment that Haneke feared.
Despite their obvious connections, the clips appear as if they were independently conceived vignettes that share the same thematic shades and atmosphere. From the lengthy dialogue and voice-over, some of the aphorisms with which the characters express the land in vivid lyricism: “I wish you had endless oysters for a wave rolling into the ocean,” says a young man desperate in love with seashells. “I don’t want to smile and hug uncontrollably anymore,” Hanaki said upon her return from working as a dancer in Tokyo. This fictional proximity to Japan also clearly influences the production design of her and Roman’s home.
No one would argue that Rat’s “Eight Views” are easily accessible, but that does not mean that they are in any way incomprehensible, obscure, or unsatisfactory. This is confirmed by the final chapter, which absorbs the air of the fairy tale and absolves God of the misery that befalls these characters. A decade in the future, Eni gets all the answers she’s been searching for. This concluding narration cements Tauraite’s melancholy role as one of the standouts in a full-bodied cast. Rat’s most terrifying revelation is that the magical events they read as divine signs may have much more earthly explanations. Is there anything more destructive than accepting that a person is at least partly responsible for what we attribute to fate?