An experimental documentary made up of the voices haunting it: voices of poets and madmen, of a mother and a child. We look at places hard to situate with certainty, places where omens of violence are palpable and scars remain visible.
Es ist immer Krieg: the haunting words borrowed from poet and writer Ingeborg Bachmann provide the subheading for Annik Leroy’s latest film, Tremor.
TREMOR is made up of the voices that intersperse it – voices of poets and madmen, of a mother or a child. From introspective thoughts to spontaneous accounts to gripping testimonies, they take their turns to talk about their experience of violence and war. As we listen to them, our gaze is transported to places and scarred landscapes impossible to locate. Noises from elsewhere filter through. The image becomes distorted and porous. Music starts to play. The film lingers over the presence of a pianist, before diffracting again… TREMOR is a sensory journey between memory and nightmare. An act of resistance.
“Es ist immer Krieg is the subtitle of TREMOR. Four words. An extremely short sentence from Malina by Ingeborg Bachmann, which evokes many interpretations. But for me, they stand for inner conflict and not being able to reconcile with the wars of the past or present. There are no images recorded in conflicts here, because it’s up to me to create my own images. All fascist powers interpellate me; they challenge me, and ensure that I cannot be irresponsible.”
“Since long have I pondered the question of where fascism has its origin. It is not born with the first bombs, neither through the terror one can describe in every newspaper … its origin lies in the relations between a man and a woman, and I have tried to say … in this society there is war permanently.”