Living & Arts

'Baraka,' a meditation

In print | February 12, 2009

A Japanese man walks down a busy street in Tokyo, his face covered by a straw hat, his robes swinging back and forth. He’s ringing a bell as he walks so that it chimes at a constant interval, calling people to pay attention and join him on his religious journey. His movements clash with the fast-paced city life around him, where people leave stores wearing the latest fashions and businessmen in expensive suits catch their next meeting. Amidst all this hustle and bustle the man is barely noticed. This sense of spirituality out of context — in the wrong place and time — is presented in the film “Baraka,” which was shown on campus Saturday night as the culmination of Religion and Spirituality Week.

“Baraka,” directed by Ron Fricke, is a 1992 experimental film devoid of any dialogue, let alone any sort of plot. While these qualities seem to spell disaster for a film, they are ultimately what make “Baraka” powerful. Shot with 70mm film, the same format used for IMAX films, “Baraka” feels like a Discovery Channel documentary, only without the annoying voiceover. The film is made up of beautiful images from the most picturesque places in the world, which are spliced together to create a spectacular purview of the different ways that people live and practice religion. Complemented by a wonderfully composed score, the film becomes an expression of spirituality as experienced around the world.

Brice Jordan ’12, who worked with the Religion and Spirituality Week Committee to show “Baraka,” said, “It seems that the entire movie is not only about religious practice but life, and how it is: the good and bad, horrible and beautiful.”

One scene that focuses on the cadences of industrial life reflects the whole of the experience that is “Baraka.” Images of life in the metropolitan environs of Tokyo and Los Angeles are intercut with shots of a chicken-processing plant. The sight of thousands of chickens is matched with time-lapse images of millions of Japanese people going through turnstiles and packing into trains during their daily commutes. Cars start and stop at set intervals in conjunction with traffic lights in much the same way that factory workers checks each chick before placing it on its own sheet. A beat-driven score reinforces the monotonous cycles seen on the screen.

The experience of watching “Baraka” is unique to film. “Baraka” uses the medium less as a mode of dialogue-driven storytelling than as a uniquely tinted window to the world. Watching the film, it is clear that Fricke’s editing instincts are as sharp as his cinematography. The images, breathtaking as they may be, are neutral and meaningless on their own, but the way they are interlaced creates a very particular experience of the world.

“Baraka” strives to treat film as art in its purest form. It doesn’t put a premium on narrative, score or individual images; rather, its inclinations are entirely filmic. For the viewer, the film resonates on an emotional level and ultimately becomes a meditation of sorts, allowing one to reflect and achieve a truce with one’s own spirituality.