Review of the film The Loneliest Planet

“Properly speaking, the unconscious is the real psychic; its inner nature is just as unknown to us as the reality of the external world, and it is just as imperfectly reported to us through the data of consciousness as is the external world through the indications of our sensory organs.” 
                                   - Sigmund Freud
                                    The Interpretation of Dreams

     The Loneliest Planet is a film that lives in the wordless exchanges between its characters. And there are innumerable interactions that occur without any one speaking at all. The body conveys so much - the gentle tilting of a head, the brushing together of arms, the sharp narrowing of the eyes, the sudden entire body jerk of fright - we can recognize significance, and there are things that never need be voiced to be understood. 
      Sometimes this is a knowledge - a sneaking suspicion - that we are not even fully aware we possess until later. We are so caught up in the moment that our brains highlight some things, what seems essential, and submerge others. These hidden pieces of information may not be above that line of full consciousness, but they are there. And they will remain in the unconscious until that quicksilver second of recognition. Then we are left wondering how we had not fully realized their magnitude until now.
     This film unyieldingly explores a short few days in a relationship, between a young man and a young woman. They are intimate and in love - infatuated? - with each other and engaged to be married. They are on a trekking adventure through the country of Georgia, which is a greatly mountainous land lying beneath the great northern bulk of Russia and just above the desert coastal countries of the Middle East. The wilderness of foothills and valleys of these Caucasus Mountains are astonishing in beauty. But there is a foreboding nature to them as well - it is so quiet and desolate. There are moments when the couple's hired native guide suddenly puts up a hand to silence and halt them, and the air is undeniably impregnated with a sense of danger. As if someone is following them, unseen but uncomfortably close behind with sinister motives. But then they begin hiking again, and the young pair is laughing and talking as if nothing is astir except the mountain breeze and the cold water of the rocky valley creeks. We almost forget.
     Then that thing happens, the one we've been expecting. And it is still surprising and shocking, and it changes everything. And the event lasts less than three minutes. But its significance is without question - these two characters, this couple who had seemed so compatible and nakedly in love, may not be exactly who the other was so certain of. Again, there is not much dialogue, yet it is overwhelming to watch their faces in the moments and hours after, as they continue their trek. And the new ways in which they interact with each other and their guide. 
     There are no words to adequately describe what has occurred, what has changed, but there is visible reconsidering and realization creeping through every expression, gesture, and interaction. All around them, the vastness and ancientness of the mountains extend to every horizon. Rendered tiny and vulnerable by those heights and depths, the three walk towards the night that awaits them, and the two foreigners are unsure of what it will bring.
     A quiet meditation of a film, The Loneliest Planet offers what seems a simple story. But there is also a profound psychological narrative at play throughout. How well can we know each other? How knowable are we to others? To ourselves even? And what happens when we are caught violently off guard - and what transpires is so far from anything we could have ever imagined? What becomes of us? And, perhaps, we also ask ourselves in silent moments of naked vulnerability, was it really so unimaginable after all? Maybe there was evidence all along, evidence that we overlooked, submerged beneath the surface of our consciousness. We were just so caught up in the story that we were telling ourselves - a far simpler tale than the truth suddenly laid bare.