09/08/2023 - A gentle portrait of pulsating hearts, Leonor Teles’ first fiction feature is an invitation to embark on a timeless journey through the intricacies of human connections

The Locarno competition entry Baan [+see also:
trailer
interview: Leonor Teles
film profile] is Leonor Teles’ first fiction feature, and its title is a Thai word that translates as “home”. The title thus immediately places us in one of the thematic epicentres of the film. The idea of belonging is loose and broad, but as the expression goes, home is where the heart is.

There are various hearts beating in Baan, one of them being that of the protagonist, L (Carolina Miragaia). It’s a heart that could generally be described as being in a state of confusion and in-betweenness, as it belongs to a socially and politically engaged millennial architect living in a gentrified part of Lisbon, seeking some sort of emotional and psychological solace in different ways, in different things, in different places and with different people.

Something is set in motion with the enchantingly subtle but deeply transformative encounter with K (Meghna Lall). Through simple gestures between these characters, we witness a multitude of poetic – verging on completely authentic – expressions of love: a glance or the touch of a hand can say it all. We willingly follow L on her own journey to understand others, to build connections and to become closer to herself. This inevitably entails being aware of her surroundings, which enables us to take a deep dive into matters concerning real, sensitive human hearts, encompassing both social and political themes. Exploring topics ranging from gentrification to xenophobia, employment and financial insecurity, we scratch beyond the surface in a thorough, comprehensive way. This is a film that can be described as a generational portrait with the empathic power to resonate with most – a striking love story that is aware of both the beauty and the tragedy of life.

This narrative arc of edging closer not only to one another, but also to oneself and to the world as a whole, is accompanied by some blurry geographical shifts. We travel with L from Bangkok to Lisbon, and from Lisbon to Bangkok, sometimes without knowing where or when we, as an audience, or they, as characters, are. This aspect can be viewed as a way of establishing a disconnect with the audience, but can also be seen as one of the strongest attributes of the movie, as it finds its own way to highlight both the similarities and the differences between these two geographically distant places, connected in a globalised world. The cinematography echoes this as well, and a pleasant feeling of timelessness in the present day can emerge from the different visual strategies employed – introducing, for example, short, sharp elements that beckon us into a Wong Kar-Wai-esque universe. This grants us a visual representation of the psychological and emotional states of the characters, as does the precise use of colour and light (along with all of its reflections). It’s a visual approach that feels personal, as does the soundtrack: from Chaka Khan to the customary musical soundscapes of the Santos Populares festivals, we travel through all of these emotional moments at the same time as L does.

In this film, we’re invited to allow ourselves to feel a little lost sometimes, which can lead us to find what’s most meaningful and closest to us. Letting ourselves follow the movie’s own particular, unique path ends up feeling as natural as living in the present day and focusing on what truly matters. In the end, we – like L – make an active choice to stay, never stopping, as reflected by one of K’s tattoos: Per Aspera Ad Astra.

Baan was produced by Portugal’s Uma Pedra no Sapato, with Totem Films dealing with the international sales.