When will all this life of unrest end, this anguish, this fear, this life in fright. Frayed nerves, I have a bad feeling eating me up inside, setting my soul in mourning. But we can turn the tide, and the voice of the people is the will of God, sing… they won’t pass, they won’t pass…
(local song)
After the successes of Bostofrio – où le ciel rejoint la terre (2018) and Périphérique Nord (2022) Paulo Carneiro returns to speak about his homeland with another documentary.
Having already conquered numerous festivals and at just thirty-four years old, the Portuguese director born in Lisbon presents his third feature film in a world premiere at the Cannes Director’s Fortnight in 2024, reaffirming himself as one of the most intriguing emerging Portuguese filmmakers of the period. Perhaps it is his ability to personally engage or his loving gaze upon the landscape, which somehow becomes the central figure in his work, but the impact of his films is undeniable. If the tale of a 2000 km journey filled with cars and encounters with fellow countrymen forced to leave the country (as in his movie which premiered at Vision Du Reél in 2022) was an opportunity to explore themes of identity, community, and the relationships between society and territory, Savanna and The Mountain revisits this same exploration. However, it does so within an atmosphere that may echo more closely his debut Bostofrio focused on the eponymous territory that becomes the ground for the director’s personal roots, in the presence-absence of his father’s father.
The territories lost in the middle of nowhere, the animals that inhabit them, and the human life repeating according to ancestral formulas, trigger an inevitable anthropological reflection on the rural realities of Portuguese society in both films. Yet, the territory depicted in Savanna and The Mountain is the protagonist of a dramatically current story.
We move just a few kilometers from Bostofrio to remain in northern Portugal, this time in Covas Do Barroso, a small mountain village whose inhabitants live off farming and agriculture but actually conceal a treasure coveted by many: lithium. Particularly coveted by Savannah Resources, a British multinational mining company that has been developing the Barroso Lithium Project since 2016 to construct an open pit mine that could be exploited for over ten years. The Portuguese Environment Agency has already given its preliminary approval in May 2023, and work is expected to begin in 2024, but the battle to oppose it has just begun.
Behind Carneiro’s camera, the inhabitants of Covas Do Barroso stage themselves in their collective fight against Savannah Resources and its rather controversial project, particularly in a region recognized as a World Cultural Heritage site by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the UN (2018). While lithium batteries are considered a breakthrough towards a green transition, allowing for the storage of renewable energy from sources such as wind or solar power (so much so that their creators John B Goodenough, M Stanley Whittingham, and Akira Yoshino were awarded the Nobel Prize in Chemistry), environmental concerns could be substantial. This green shift may come at the expense of the land, as the mountains would be destroyed for mineral extraction, a lengthy and complicated process requiring vast amounts of water. The endeavor could greatly harm neighboring mountain communities, not to mention the potential release of toxic chemicals.
Inevitably, the issue of lithium extraction poses a moral crossroads: it cannot be a green breakthrough if it does not consider the environmental consequences of extraction. Most importantly, it compels us to ask questions such as what this energy would be used for and whether it could really make consumerism sustainable.
Paulo Carneiro follows the anger of a rural community directly impacted and in tune with the outrage of an entire population facing government agreements that have disregarded local microeconomics and, above all, the life of the territory and its inhabitants. As some of the locals say: “Rich Nordics don’t care about our village, they just want to make batteries for the Germans and the Norwegians. They should destroy their own mountains”.
The film not only boasts significant political and social depth that renders it absolutely necessary but also possesses extraordinary visual and artistic power. The director respects the rhythms of nature, allows scenes to unfold at their own pace, captures the beauty and harmony that the mine would jeopardize, and ultimately concludes with a shot full of hope, a man galloping freely and saddle-less through the mountain paths.
Perhaps a symbol of the victory of those who do belong to, love, and protect Covas Do Barroso.
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