There is another world, hanging in the sky, an identical twin that is labelled Earth 2. But this film is not science fiction.
There is a love story too, of sorts, that revives a sense of hope and purpose for two lost and lonely figures. But this film is not a romance.
Seamlessly blending and vaulting genres, Sundance award-winner Another Earth elicits some beautiful performances from its actors in a film that is like the mirror planet - haunting and strange and cold and distant.
At one point Rhoda Williams is dusting. Thousands of motes are illuminated in the sunlight, creating a brilliant but brief constellation. That is the essence of the story-telling - the universe captured in a hallway.
The story is not original, indeed there are hand-me-downs all around. The tale of two people who encounter each other, first tragically and later with urgent necessity before the truth tests their fortitude, has been played out many times.
But not with a second Earth overhead. This omnipresent orb poses the question, "am I alone?" But for the two central characters the question is more pressing and domestic.
Lost in their grief and guilt, they function mindlessly without daring to venture into their fractured emotional hinterland.
Rhoda Williams is played by Brit Marling who is also producer and, along with indie-vibe director Mike Cahill, writer as well. The piece grew from intense workshops and rehearsals, which accounts for its quiet reflection and exquisite moments of awkwardness and doubt.
Rhoda, a drunken teenage student, shatters the family life of music professor John Burroughs (William Mapother). Years later, and anonymously, she tries to make amends. Guilt has led her to abandon her studies and she becomes a school janitor, literally and metaphorically cleaning up her mess.
She enacts the same duties for Burroughs, his decline evident in piles of abandoned books and dishes. From this tentative, false foundation, something tender grows, although the truth ticks away in the background.
He rediscovers music (including an eerie symphony on a saw) and she rediscovers happiness and purpose.
Both wish they could start again, and find the bliss that eludes them. Rhoda tries to make this wish real, vying for one of the Wonka-ish golden tickets that would take her to Earth 2 and the prospect of a fresh start or, at least, to a version of herself who didn't screw up.
With an evocative score by Fall On Your Sword and some brittle photography captured by a camera that stalks the territory like guilt, this slow-moving and clever film witnesses the journey of two people who struggle back to meaning.
The sci-fi is worn lightly but lends a magical air. The mirror Earth presents the story with its most dazzling twists but it is the slow redemption of two broken souls that is far more intriguing and rewarding.
– From December 2011
