Casa de Lava

Reclining in warm ash: Casa de Lava

Note the goat above. Pedro Costa's Casa de Lava, from 1994, transposes the premise of I Walked with a Zombie to Cape Verde. Costa retains and expands upon the colonialist tensions that made the original so palpable. Emmanuel Machuel's cinematography makes the most of the island as a setting for the chthonic and uncanny. Costa's expressionism, derived partially from John Ford's use of color, casts an aura of unease that meshes with this murky zombie ode.

Costa is among those modern filmmakers who eschew montage effects for long, deliberate takes. Camera placement is Costa's primary means of expression. His closeups lop off parts of his players' bodies and creates a false sense of intimacy in an alien setting. The juxtaposition of a crumbling, half-completed modern infrastructure with the grandeur of a volcanic island creates an environment where nature predominates over the feeble veneer of civilization. Yet, color, humor and song exist to make the film more tonally varied than the original.

Costa also opens up the erotic possibilities of the story. Cape Verde itself seems to compel couples to fall into an embrace. There are a bewildering number of erotic alliances during the course of the film. Costa cuts away from the lovers before their trysts because he is more interested in the forces that bring people together than in their actual coupling. It is as if the warm ash at the base of the volcano and the cool sands of the island compels the characters to drop their inhibitions and surrender to their passions.

Casa de Lava is too focused on sensual splendor and dread to appeal to those looking for a good yarn or a tidily constructed narrative. It will excite those willing to search for new horizons in the cinema.