This film is about a man contracting a virus, and that virus is despair.

The truly brilliant thing that this film does is take that core idea — despair — and infuse it into every single element.

I'll begin with the nearly non-existent score. The big 'moments' are mostly played silently, a choice very few directors make. The film's sound design is only concerned with the small noises of this world: birds, liqueur being poured, footsteps, and wind. There is an audible hollowness to everything else. 

Which brings me to the imagery. The beginning is the perfect introduction to what you will experience. 

It begins with a despairing and slow crawling movement forward toward a small church in silence, and it fades into the image from darkness. The surrounding sounds of wind and birds fade in slowly. The credits are even introduced before we can understand what we’re seeing. The aspect ratio sits at 1.37 :1, a near-square frame. It immediately feels like a film from another era unconcerned with the modern viewer’s interests.

The film continues with this trend, showing locations with preeminence and permanence and treating humanity as temporary things that just come and go. We are introduced not to people or characters but to locations — a darkly lit room, vacant, but littered with poison, a house, or a church — and then only after a few beats, do we see a character enter. When the character leaves, the shot lingers in the same place, and we are there in emptiness, in silence, questioning. 

Did any of that matter? Was that meaningful? This simple choice of editing made what happened or what was said in those rooms, houses, or churches devoid of meaning or substance. Again, fueling that singular sensation, despair.

The framing does it, too. Every shot plays with emptiness, with some select close-ups, but most of the shots are wide and have distance. We see the reverend not in his intoxicated state from up close, but from afar through a doorway, his presence meaningless in these wide shots. He's rarely centered in these shots, always to one side or another, horizontal lines and frames within frames elevate these images into a masterclass of composition.

The way cinematographer Alexander Dynan basks the film in darkness is simply inspiring. There are so many scenes in which they accept the darkness. When there is light, it is delightful, whether it’s the faint flickering of a single candle, the sun seeping in from shades, or the harsh blue light from a laptop. It is all a sight to see.

What I love most about this film is not what it does, but what it doesn't do. There is so little movement visually. There is not a single over-the-shoulder shot in the entire film. That is wondrous to me. It helps sell the visual relationship we have to this world and to the characters. We are never anchored to any of them, always separate and distant. The shots that do track or are in motion, are slow, precise, and monotonous by today's standards.

 It’s as if this film doesn't want you to watch it.

I will move on to the lead actor Ethan Hawke who gives one of the best performances of the year with this character. His performance is muted; it's not flashy or explosive.

Early on we learn about a loss that he dealt with, with no tears, but in his eyes, you can see the infection of despair. There are moments of him journaling alone that are read aloud more than they are shown. This gives us a peek into his psyche, and I loved every word. 

The biggest moment the character has besides the ending is a conversation that makes him cry. The film doesn't care to frame him to let us see his sadness finally coming out. Instead, his hands cover his face, the framing is cluttered and filled, and it’s shot impersonally and surgically. These moments are all muted, hollow, and without hope. “Who cares,” the film whispers.

Now to the screenplay. The script is where most people will see this film, and rightfully so. It’s the loudest piece of this puzzle, and it screams its messages.

It screams about religion, it screams about environmentalism, it screams at how we are ruining the very Earth that allows us to breathe, it screams about the capitalism, the fraud, the waste, the greed, the sickness that humanity is. It grabs you by the collar and screams in your face, take responsibility, do something, will anyone do anything? Does anyone care?

So, in ending:

10/10 – Masterpiece

I don't think you will enjoy this movie. If anything this movie may be a 0/10 for you. It doesn't care to entertain you. It constantly ruins the expectations it sets up for itself. It doesn't show you the moments you imagined or wished for. If you care an ounce about the Earth, it will depress you. If you are religious, it will question your faith. If you've ever felt depressed, it will remind you of how slippery that downward spiral is. The film is slow, patient, and precise. It only simmers and never boils. The visuals are muted. Most will probably fail to see its mastery. I am almost confident in saying it’s not for you. It’s beauty in the unseen, uncared, and unheard. This film was made for only one specific kind of viewer. Chances are it’s not you, but then again, if you are like me, it might be one of the best films you have ever seen, a masterful stroke of transcendence. A film that feels like it was written about me, for me.