I recently met with Kossakovsky in New York to talk about Aquarela, his philosophy around documentaries, and the challenges of making a movie about water. (Most movie theaters are not equipped to show the film at 96 fps, but many are projecting it in 48 fps, still faster than the standard frame rate.) The experience of watching it is both magnificent and unnerving. His footage captures nearly every micro movement, making the images onscreen seem almost alive, crisp and vivid in a way that’s difficult to explain. The director, who grew up in the Soviet Union and often makes experimental films, also shot Aquarela at 96 frames per second - much higher than most films’ 24 frames per second. Kossakovsky shooting at Angel Falls in Venezuela.
And in case its implications aren’t obvious, Kossakovsky tapped the Finnish symphonic metal band Apocalyptica to compose the film’s score. The unpredictable natural environments that appear in the film made shooting it a dangerous challenge, meaning Aquarela is likely one of the riskiest documentaries ever made. It’s the sort of film that leaves you in awe. Water, in its many forms, is the protagonist, rather than the subject. Watching Aquarela is less like watching a traditional nature documentary and more like a feature-length music video that roams the globe, without many people onscreen, and no talking heads or explanatory text.
Instead, we’re presented with about 90 minutes of lengthy scenes and trusted to draw meaning from them - cars falling through melting ice that used to be solid enough to drive across rolling high seas icebergs splitting apart gale-force storms on highways enormous, breathtaking waterfalls. It’s a film about water, the role water plays in climates around the world, and how changes in those climates can unleash water’s destructive power.īut none of those themes are narrated in the film. Victor Kossakovsy’s documentary Aquarela is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.