It’s winter and there is no rain. Sofia returns to her grandmother’s house. In the mountains, she finds a land where only the Wind lives. All that’s left of the house is dust and ashes. In the attic, Sofia finds pieces of lives other than her own. That’s where the house listens.
A camera peeks through windows and stirs up ghosts in a film that breathes; Lillian Gish, the young Letty, fresh from Sjöström’s earthy The Wind, watches us. Here, cinema acts as a witness and sparks the imagination. Night comes to lull the bodies to sleep, lighting fires in the foreground that crackle and send up flames. By day, one must look to the sky, clear the air, listen to music. Sofia returns to her grandmother’s uninhabited house; the atmosphere is heavy, there are boxes waiting for her and crumbling walls; there is dust, there is ash. A film that breathes like a lung of wind, moving through textures, shadows and sounds, where the windows never cease to peer out at ghosts. (Carlota Gonçalves)
