Film Review of The Wild Goose Lake (2019)
For a crime film filled with action - with striking, almost cathartic bursts of violence and catastrophe - it is the atmospheric subtleties rather than extremities which shape the tone of this film. Before there is chaos, there is absolute silence – moments explode outwardly when they are restricted inward, when power is impressed upon another who refuses to submit, when someone is backed into a corner with no escape. We see a world in which to be noticed is to be targeted; where the bodily becomes a burden, a property to be bought, sold, abused. In a world in which the flesh dictates the self, we see the body easily dismantled and beaten – a beheading takes place as a result of dispute, literally cutting the throats of those who speak in objection; vulnerability is continually met with violence. In a disturbing shot in which an umbrella is used as a weapon, bloodstained as it opens up, we are shown clearly that protection in this world is not from naturally occurring phenomena that exists as a necessity of life, but from humanity itself as a source of its own destruction – of its interior life force bleeding out on the streets. The streets of this world are not washed clean by rain, they are drowned in blood and dirt.
We see the value placed on some bodies – the way in which the police force searches far and wide for the killer of one of their own whilst civilian lives become easily uprooted and disposed of in the process, with people used as pawns and scapegoats as a result. Police and criminal become indistinguishable, to the point that police disguise themselves as criminals – shoot-outs and brawls happen in public gatherings, in restaurants, in civilian housing – even in a zoo, and we, just like the animal onlookers, watch the true animalism reveal itself in the art of human conflict. We see how easily morality is shaped and manipulated in the hands of human beings who serve nothing more than loyalty to regimes and a weak societal, worldly sense of “right” and “wrong”. There is an emptiness as a result of this, a stillness in the silence that lies in the inevitability of police “victory”- a victory which often takes the form of a lifeless body, killed in a distorted act of justice and presented as a trophy to the world as proof of their competence in keeping people “safe”. We see shots of people, packed in small rooms and basements like sardines, displaying the world beneath the world – the underbelly of society, the behind the scenes of criminal organisations and factory workers alike. There is a blindness to where the real darkness lies, and a focus only on the symptoms of that darkness, on the parts of it that seem easily resolvable with bullets and covert teams – we see the focus on tactics and traps, with the characters becoming confined in what feels like a maze with no mirrors – a world so focused on the external and on movement within small, limited spaces that it forgets that there is anything beyond what we can see with our eyes. A dullness weighs heavily in the air, and characters, despite their aestheticism, lack any real sense of vibrancy.
The contrast between neon lights and gritty scenery creates a continual sense of suppressed alertness despite the groggy, mundane atmosphere – we are aware that we are always one step away from danger, that what we are privy to is something typically hidden in plain sight – our vision is directed towards street corners and marketplaces, towards the surreal that lurks within the mundane. There is a blanket of uncertainty within everyone’s words and actions, for no one is driven by anything deeply rooted or passionate by nature, and so no one is grounded, and their position is easily moveable. As a result, alliances are weak and betrayal is commonplace. Autonomy is hypothetical – everyone’s role is positioned within a hierarchy, even if it is invisible to the naked eye.
Naturally, there is a reoccurring theme of men using women as tools at their own disposal – patriarchy in this film is like infected air, invisible and woven into the very fabric of their lives. Throughout, our perception of the environment is shaped by the context in which it is portrayed – the ocean is revealed as a hidden spot for prostitution, making water, and thus life itself seem tainted by humanities corruption – we watch as women drink the same water they spit into. A woman is raped and sits down to eat noodles just minutes later. Nothing is spoken about after it happens, and we as viewers are not given time to process things – we must simply bear witness to it all as it unravels, like helpless witnesses. We bear witness to the true nature of the police force, watching as they harshly interrogate an officer on what he saw as he gurgles blood on the hospital bed, clinging onto his life.
The entire film feels like being submerged into an almost ghostly world, broken and blatantly aware of its own corruption yet being guided by only what we can see before us – whatever we can hold onto to ground us in some shape or form. Consequently, people move around with little to no conviction driving them other than self-preservation. Movement, therefore, despite being at the centre of the film, seems hollow; intimacy seems animalistic; conversation seems tense or forced – interaction lacks fluidity – it often seems abrupt and pre-meditated, or sinister and self-interested. This film highlights the dark underbelly of a world hiding from itself, a world engulfed by an overwhelming lack of meaning. Even in his actions to save and care for his wife and child, it is impossible to be moved by the protagonist, for his actions, like his words, drift into the air – they are not rooted in anything that we can truly hold onto, anything that would make us develop a genuine attachment to him and his cause. We watch from his very eyes as he points a gun blindly at newspaper articles, wanting desperately for there to be an attacker, a target – for his psychological issues to be solved in a simple shoot and kill. This is a world obsessed with the bodily – with the tactile, with what one can grab with both hands. Hence, it is a world constantly revolving around the potential for monetary gain as a driving force for taking action. This film displays humanity at its most surface level, visually appealing yet so empty that even the beauty of the natural world becomes washed out and isolating, a concrete jungle of dimly lit streets where people live out their lives in the shadows, unable to move with true purpose – trapped in a cycle of death and deceit.
For a crime film filled with action - with striking, almost cathartic bursts of violence and catastrophe - it is the atmospheric subtleties rather than extremities which shape the tone of this film. Before there is chaos, there is absolute silence – moments explode outwardly when they are restricted inward, when power is impressed upon another who refuses to submit, when someone is backed into a corner with no escape. We see a world in which to be noticed is to be targeted; where the bodily becomes a burden, a property to be bought, sold, abused. In a world in which the flesh dictates the self, we see the body easily dismantled and beaten – a beheading takes place as a result of dispute, literally cutting the throats of those who speak in objection; vulnerability is continually met with violence. In a disturbing shot in which an umbrella is used as a weapon, bloodstained as it opens up, we are shown clearly that protection in this world is not from naturally occurring phenomena that exists as a necessity of life, but from humanity itself as a source of its own destruction – of its interior life force bleeding out on the streets. The streets of this world are not washed clean by rain, they are drowned in blood and dirt.
We see the value placed on some bodies – the way in which the police force searches far and wide for the killer of one of their own whilst civilian lives become easily uprooted and disposed of in the process, with people used as pawns and scapegoats as a result. Police and criminal become indistinguishable, to the point that police disguise themselves as criminals – shoot-outs and brawls happen in public gatherings, in restaurants, in civilian housing – even in a zoo, and we, just like the animal onlookers, watch the true animalism reveal itself in the art of human conflict. We see how easily morality is shaped and manipulated in the hands of human beings who serve nothing more than loyalty to regimes and a weak societal, worldly sense of “right” and “wrong”. There is an emptiness as a result of this, a stillness in the silence that lies in the inevitability of police “victory”- a victory which often takes the form of a lifeless body, killed in a distorted act of justice and presented as a trophy to the world as proof of their competence in keeping people “safe”. We see shots of people, packed in small rooms and basements like sardines, displaying the world beneath the world – the underbelly of society, the behind the scenes of criminal organisations and factory workers alike. There is a blindness to where the real darkness lies, and a focus only on the symptoms of that darkness, on the parts of it that seem easily resolvable with bullets and covert teams – we see the focus on tactics and traps, with the characters becoming confined in what feels like a maze with no mirrors – a world so focused on the external and on movement within small, limited spaces that it forgets that there is anything beyond what we can see with our eyes. A dullness weighs heavily in the air, and characters, despite their aestheticism, lack any real sense of vibrancy.
The contrast between neon lights and gritty scenery creates a continual sense of suppressed alertness despite the groggy, mundane atmosphere – we are aware that we are always one step away from danger, that what we are privy to is something typically hidden in plain sight – our vision is directed towards street corners and marketplaces, towards the surreal that lurks within the mundane. There is a blanket of uncertainty within everyone’s words and actions, for no one is driven by anything deeply rooted or passionate by nature, and so no one is grounded, and their position is easily moveable. As a result, alliances are weak and betrayal is commonplace. Autonomy is hypothetical – everyone’s role is positioned within a hierarchy, even if it is invisible to the naked eye.
Naturally, there is a reoccurring theme of men using women as tools at their own disposal – patriarchy in this film is like infected air, invisible and woven into the very fabric of their lives. Throughout, our perception of the environment is shaped by the context in which it is portrayed – the ocean is revealed as a hidden spot for prostitution, making water, and thus life itself seem tainted by humanities corruption – we watch as women drink the same water they spit into. A woman is raped and sits down to eat noodles just minutes later. Nothing is spoken about after it happens, and we as viewers are not given time to process things – we must simply bear witness to it all as it unravels, like helpless witnesses. We bear witness to the true nature of the police force, watching as they harshly interrogate an officer on what he saw as he gurgles blood on the hospital bed, clinging onto his life.
The entire film feels like being submerged into an almost ghostly world, broken and blatantly aware of its own corruption yet being guided by only what we can see before us – whatever we can hold onto to ground us in some shape or form. Consequently, people move around with little to no conviction driving them other than self-preservation. Movement, therefore, despite being at the centre of the film, seems hollow; intimacy seems animalistic; conversation seems tense or forced – interaction lacks fluidity – it often seems abrupt and pre-meditated, or sinister and self-interested. This film highlights the dark underbelly of a world hiding from itself, a world engulfed by an overwhelming lack of meaning. Even in his actions to save and care for his wife and child, it is impossible to be moved by the protagonist, for his actions, like his words, drift into the air – they are not rooted in anything that we can truly hold onto, anything that would make us develop a genuine attachment to him and his cause. We watch from his very eyes as he points a gun blindly at newspaper articles, wanting desperately for there to be an attacker, a target – for his psychological issues to be solved in a simple shoot and kill. This is a world obsessed with the bodily – with the tactile, with what one can grab with both hands. Hence, it is a world constantly revolving around the potential for monetary gain as a driving force for taking action. This film displays humanity at its most surface level, visually appealing yet so empty that even the beauty of the natural world becomes washed out and isolating, a concrete jungle of dimly lit streets where people live out their lives in the shadows, unable to move with true purpose – trapped in a cycle of death and deceit.
