Where the Road Meets the Sky
The night of the inaugural screening of Where the Road Meets the Sky was deeply chaotic. I had been introduced to the works of John Connors by a coworker and while familiar with the name of the documentary, its subject matter was still a mystery to me. Determined not to be late, I arrived at the Light House Cinema with 10 minutes to spare, using the extra time to treat myself to some fresh popcorn and a drink. The time finally comes to enter the movie theater and as I go to have my ticket scanned, I am informed that I am in fact at the wrong location… the screening was taking place in the IFI not the Light House. This discovery was followed by a mad dash across Smithfield, popcorn in hand, managing the slip onto the Luas seconds before the doors slid shut. The ensuing two stops provided me with just enough time to regain my breath and strength so I could hightail it across the Liffey and through Temple Bar and finally arrive at the IFI moments before the lights went out. After awkwardly scanning the packed cinema hall for an empty seat and stepping on many toes to reach it, I sat back to watch this documentary hoping to God it was worth the ordeal.
Before the film began, Connors gave an opening address in which he described this it as “probably the most personal film” he had ever made and is likely to ever make, that was met to raucous applause from the crowd and left me with the impression that John Connors is not a man who does things in half measure. Where the Road Meets the Sky is not your standard documentary, it is more of a poetic weaving of memories, social commentary, and personal reflections on the lives and stories of Irish Travellers. At the heart of it is Connors’ grandmother, Chrissy Donohue Ward, a Mincéir, matriarch and storyteller with the ability to tell stories that captivate and immerse you in a new world. The film moves between voice recordings of Chrissy and monologues from Connors who reflects on the solace he found in her stories growing up. She spins tales of fairies and changelings, of the dogs that bark warnings, of a world that is mystical and magical but also deeply unfair to her and her people. He, in contrast, is serious and intense, adding weight to the realities she describes.
The film is slightly experimental in its creativity, bringing Chrissy’s stories to life with animations projected on to bed sheets and caravan doors giving the feel of a story behind told around a campfire. While I saw and appreciate the vision he had, the reality was a little harder to digest. The animations were seemingly created with an AI tool and possibly even the backgrounds they were being projected onto. At times the uncanny nature of the generated imagines being show on screen distracted from the story being told.
The style of storytelling, coupled with nostalgic scenes of childhood and family videos of a time long lost to the served as a beautifully tribute to Connors grandmother as well as the Travelling community. Aspects of the film did not resonate with me personally, however, I could see its powerful impact on those more familiar with the world. While I enjoyed the film, I got the sense that I was not exactly among its intended audience.
(3 / 5)
I Do Not Come To You By Chance
As a proud Nigerian, I feel I may have been born with this innate love for Nollywood (Nigerian Hollywood) dramas and the at times absurd stories it felt like they pulled out of thin air. Growing up in Ireland, a lot of the time they felt like my connection to my homeland, a portal I could step through and for a few hours my living room in Ireland would become a parlor in Lagos, Nigeria where I could get my fill of our stories, style, vernacular and humor. That being said, Nigerian films have come to mean a lot to me. That’s why when I saw I Do Not Come To You by Chance on the DIFF lineup I knew that I would have to watch it. I’ll admit I was nervous, media today at times has such an interesting way of portraying Nigerian stories and accents and I was partially afraid that this film would be an attack on my senses and sense of national pride but it was quite the opposite.
Based on Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani novel of the same name, this film dives into the world of Nigerian email scams (think Nigerian Prince). Instead of being a crime thriller, or focusing on the stereotypical aspects of a crime category that has unfortunately become synonymous with Nigerians; it’s a deeply personal story about family, desperation and morality.
When young, educated Kingsley comes face to face with a fruitless job market, financial hardships and a family emergency, he finds himself tangled up in the world of his charismatic yet shady uncle, Cash Daddy (enough said). The film does an incredible job at balancing the human side of cybercrime, and how poverty and lack of opportunity can push people into it, without glorifying the act of scamming itself.
Something that I greatly appreciated about this film is how it’s stays true to the realities of Nigerian life, especially in portraying the hustle of everyday people. The characters felt so real, like people you’d actually see on the streets or in everyday life, the settings too; from the busy streets of Abia state to the hospitals and office buildings- it all felt spot on, not overly glamorized or dramatized, making the world feel more lived in and genuine. Most of all the casual use of the Igbo language added a layer of authenticity that went a long way in making the story believable and the whole viewing experience more immersive.
(5 / 5)