ART ABOUT TOWN
FILM REVIEW Ai Weiwei’s Human Flow: To be a Refugee for 145 minutes Words Simone Kussatz
Was it coincidence or destiny when Ai Weiwei couldn’t attend the screening of his film Human Flow at the Hammer Museum in early January due to the cancellation of all flights out of New York? Either way, the artist’s absence immediately sensitized his guests to the misery of being stuck somewhere. Now imagine being trapped in a place for up to 26 years and your stomach keeps growling, your clothes are filthy and wet, and the only entertainment you have are the constant electricity outages, the snakes inside your tent and the tear gas being sprayed on you where you had believed you’d be free and safe. All that after a strenuous trip, during which you witnessed women being raped and fellow refugees drowning. This is a summary of the stories being told in Ai Weiwei’s 145-minute documentary about the refugee crisis, thus the 65.6 million displaced people around the world. His film was shot in 23 countries, including Afghanistan, Germany, Greece, France, Iraq, Italy, Jordan, Kenya, Macedonia and Pakistan. The Chinese-born, Berlin-based artist/filmmaker, a displaced person himself during the Cultural Revolution and a detainee in 2011 due to his outspokenness against the communist regime, introduces the subject matter in a gentle way. In fact, while Human Flow is a documentary, it includes several scenes that could easily be construed as part of a fictional feature film. Human Flow opens with the stunning scene of a white seagull flying gracefully above a dark blue ocean, perhaps the Aegean Sea, shot from an elevated view, accompanied by haunting music by composer Karsten Fundal. There are more cinematic moments throughout: as when a group of African refugees wrapped in silver-golden rescue blankets shimmer at night like a crackling fire, or the stunning shot of horses bathing in the turquoise blue ocean at Gaza beach. Not only pure aesthetics capture the viewer’s attention, however. We are captivated by the combination of reportage, poetry, oral history and interview, contrasted against close-ups of silent refugees and recurrent scenes of wind. The film’s pace is perfect. The viewer never has to endure a situation for too long; 78
