I had the opportunity to listen to a music CD of 'The Laya Project' a few weeks ago. I had never heard of it before, but was in the mood to try something different and this was highly recommended by a friend. No sooner than I heard the music I knew I HAD to watch the film, and no sooner than the first few reels were down, I knew I HAD to attempt a review :) So here goes!
Its hard to pin the Laya project down to a stereotype. Its an unconventional film, much more than a music video and not quite a regular documentary. For a film marketed as being shot on the shores of six nations affected by the tsunami, the approach it takes is surprisingly different. You naturally expect it to highlight the grim realities of life...scenes of devastation, gritty tales of hardships and survival against the odds. But what you get instead is the raw beauty of nature. Gorgeous landscapes, glorious sunsets, rolling mists and brilliantly hued skies. And music. Melodious, haunting and earthy, it seems to flow through the people and the landscapes. The end effect is sublime.
The central theme of the film appears to be the relationship between man and nature. An unsaid tenet seems to be the double-edged nature of this relationship; the people who live most in harmony with nature are the ones most directly affected by its fury. What I liked was that none of this was spoken, it was all conveyed through the wonderful imagery - glimpses of nature and images of people seemingly expressionless, but whose eyes and faces speak volumes. What you soon realize is that this is not a documentary in the traditional sense; there's no concrete storyline, little narration and no obvious message, instead it relies on the images and music to tell a story all by themselves. The scene, early on, of a ramshackle straw hut lashed by wind and rain with a fire burning bravely indoors, and a group of youths playing a game of football in blissful oblivion of the pouring rain, is moving beyond words. As are, as described earlier, the visages of the people, their shy smiles, lined faces and unspoken words.
So, while at the start you can't help wondering if the tsunami angle is nothing more than a gimmick to visit off-beat locales to film and record the music of the 'natives', the film gradually brings you to the subtle realization that there's more to it than that. The film, in a way that I feel strongly but can't clearly describe, is about the spirit of man. That spirit is somehow enmeshed in the beauty of the culture, the fragility of the lifestyle, the songs that pay homage to nature, and the knowledge that all of this continues despite the tsunami.
The most striking aspect of the film, however, is the seamless fusion between the music and the imagery. There's no concept of 'background' here, the two entities meld together like they were always meant to be one. The music, as mentioned earlier, seems to flow through the images and bind them all together. And because of this amalgamation, you get a clear demonstration of what 'folk music' is all about - music that's inspired by nature and lifestyle. The best scenes are when this music is recorded right in the surroundings where it originated, for instance the 'Katalu Talu' recording that just breathes ethnicity and 'Buduburru', recorded on the fringes of a coconut plantation.
So if you're something of a genuine music aficionado, or a fan of off-beat films, or even like nature or ethnicity, you will not regret watching/listening to the Laya Project. I'll even wager that it'll end up occupying pride of place in your collection!
P.S: I'm not a marketing agent of, or in any way connected to the project :) In fact, in the interests of honesty, current circumstances compelled me to download it off the Internet! Not something I'm proud of, but I couldn't pass up the chance to watch it at the earliest. Will redeem myself by purchasing the DVD+CD box set at the first opportunity.
Its hard to pin the Laya project down to a stereotype. Its an unconventional film, much more than a music video and not quite a regular documentary. For a film marketed as being shot on the shores of six nations affected by the tsunami, the approach it takes is surprisingly different. You naturally expect it to highlight the grim realities of life...scenes of devastation, gritty tales of hardships and survival against the odds. But what you get instead is the raw beauty of nature. Gorgeous landscapes, glorious sunsets, rolling mists and brilliantly hued skies. And music. Melodious, haunting and earthy, it seems to flow through the people and the landscapes. The end effect is sublime.
The central theme of the film appears to be the relationship between man and nature. An unsaid tenet seems to be the double-edged nature of this relationship; the people who live most in harmony with nature are the ones most directly affected by its fury. What I liked was that none of this was spoken, it was all conveyed through the wonderful imagery - glimpses of nature and images of people seemingly expressionless, but whose eyes and faces speak volumes. What you soon realize is that this is not a documentary in the traditional sense; there's no concrete storyline, little narration and no obvious message, instead it relies on the images and music to tell a story all by themselves. The scene, early on, of a ramshackle straw hut lashed by wind and rain with a fire burning bravely indoors, and a group of youths playing a game of football in blissful oblivion of the pouring rain, is moving beyond words. As are, as described earlier, the visages of the people, their shy smiles, lined faces and unspoken words.
So, while at the start you can't help wondering if the tsunami angle is nothing more than a gimmick to visit off-beat locales to film and record the music of the 'natives', the film gradually brings you to the subtle realization that there's more to it than that. The film, in a way that I feel strongly but can't clearly describe, is about the spirit of man. That spirit is somehow enmeshed in the beauty of the culture, the fragility of the lifestyle, the songs that pay homage to nature, and the knowledge that all of this continues despite the tsunami.
The most striking aspect of the film, however, is the seamless fusion between the music and the imagery. There's no concept of 'background' here, the two entities meld together like they were always meant to be one. The music, as mentioned earlier, seems to flow through the images and bind them all together. And because of this amalgamation, you get a clear demonstration of what 'folk music' is all about - music that's inspired by nature and lifestyle. The best scenes are when this music is recorded right in the surroundings where it originated, for instance the 'Katalu Talu' recording that just breathes ethnicity and 'Buduburru', recorded on the fringes of a coconut plantation.
So if you're something of a genuine music aficionado, or a fan of off-beat films, or even like nature or ethnicity, you will not regret watching/listening to the Laya Project. I'll even wager that it'll end up occupying pride of place in your collection!
P.S: I'm not a marketing agent of, or in any way connected to the project :) In fact, in the interests of honesty, current circumstances compelled me to download it off the Internet! Not something I'm proud of, but I couldn't pass up the chance to watch it at the earliest. Will redeem myself by purchasing the DVD+CD box set at the first opportunity.
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