THE STORY – Architecture reflects humanity’s rise and fall. Ancient ruins and recent destruction showcase the relationship between humans and building materials. The cyclical nature of civilizations raises questions about sustainable construction.
THE CAST – N/A
THE TEAM – Viktor Kossakovsky (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 99 Minutes
When we think of the term “epic filmmaking,” our minds likely go to certain images – the vistas of “Gone with the Wind,” the later films of David Lean, or, among contemporary filmmakers, the works of Martin Scorsese or Christopher Nolan. In addition to huge sets, sweeping landscapes, or grandiose ideas, what all of these films also have in common is the filmmakers’ decision to realize their visions narratively. Such adjectives as “epic,” rightly or wrongly, are rarely applied to nonfiction filmmakers, no matter how profound their cinematic visions may be.
If there is a documentarian who deserves to be included in that rarified company, however, my vote would go to iconoclastic Russian director Victor Kossakovsky. Though an acclaimed nonfiction filmmaker for over three decades, Kossakovsky has only recently come to worldwide attention, thanks to his breakthrough docs, “Aquarela” (2018), a study of water and ice, and 2021’s “Gunda,” which centers on the animals we raise for food. Both films reflect Kossakovsky’s view that what we are doing to these natural elements today will have enormous consequences for our environment in the future, a view that is also pointedly reflected in his latest work, “Architecton,” which focuses on the destruction of the stone used to construct the cities in which we live.
As in most of his films, Kossakovsky’s aesthetic is rigorous. There’s no narration holding our hands about what we’re seeing and rarely any talking heads to provide a helpful background perspective. For Kossakovsky, the image itself is all we need to know, and it’s up to us to make sense of it. In “Architecton,” he wastes little time in immersing us in his vision of no less than the possible rise and fall of civilization through how we treat our buildings. He sets the stage with footage of the damage caused by the devastating 7.8 earthquake that hit Turkey in 2023, as well as lengthy drone shots of bombed-out apartments in (as we can figure out through flags) war-torn Ukraine—one plane of rubble prompted by natural causes, the other by the aggression of mankind.
Part of what makes Kossakovsky’s documentaries feel so epic is the sense of awe his imagery can evoke. No better example would be two particular sequences that arrive early in the film. In the first, the camera of cinematographer Ben Bernhard (“All That Breathes“) patiently awaits the beginning of a landslide, with the first pebbles rolling down a hill, building to rocks that grow in size until refrigerator truck-sized boulders bounce down a steep mountainside with ease, prompting jaws to drop all over the theater. Similarly, a shot of a man-made explosion on a hillside initially seems enormous, but as Bernhard’s camera pulls back, we see that the blast only demolishes one small layer of a massive multi-tiered hillside that stands ready to be destroyed.
For “Architecton,” Kossakovsky makes a slight exception to his “no talking heads” rule as Italian architect Michele de Lucchi serves as an informal guide while rambling through the ruins of what were once magnificent Greek and Roman buildings and speaks to the caretakers who keep the rubble pristine. Inspired by them, the architect utilizes his own workmen to create a stone circle in his yard, into which no human may enter (The only exception is de Lucchi’s dog). Upon completion of the unbroken circle, de Lucchi, who now designs buildings in the modern style, cops to his culpability in the degrading of the environment by his use of concrete to construct them.
This brings Kossakovsky to his favorite theme – the threat to our environment by how we’re handling our natural resources – by centering on the manufacturing of the ecologically dangerous use of certain materials. By gathering the stone (both the beautiful ruins of the ancient buildings and the natural stones gathered from explosions and landslides), we watch the making of concrete; the second-most used substance in the world after water and one whose creation emits toxic dust, which contributes to air pollution. It’s a powerful point, though one that lacks the kind of gut punch, such as in “Gunda,” in which the pigs we have come to love wind up butchered and wrapped in plastic wrap at our local supermarkets.
Still, “Architecton” is a marvel of a film essay that Kossakovsky designed to be projected at a high frame rate (I was lucky enough to view the film at a rate of 48 frames per second in Dolby Atmos, and the resulting imagery was mesmerizing in its immersive clarity). But the doc has much more on its mind than simply tantalizing us with visuals. The questions that the filmmaker poses are important ones: if we can no longer afford the lavish architectural forms of ancient buildings that we have come to idealize but that concrete poses serious long-term dangers to the environment, what material can provide a third (and better) way? Kossakovsky doesn’t provide a quick answer – he’s merely posing the question – but it needs to be confronted before most of our most cherished buildings – both ancient and modern – become little more than piles of toxic rubble.
