Luz looks and feels like it’s a lost, low budget horror film from the late 70s. The first thing you can’t help but notice is the grainy 16mm cinematography, which beautifully evokes the films of that era, particularly from people like Lucio Fulci, if he were to take a crack at something kind of like Andrzej Żuławski’s Posession. However, despite that description, I really wouldn’t describe Luz as merely being empty pastiche. It really feels like a singular work from up-and-coming filmmaker, Tilman Singer, who is making his feature debut as writer and director here.
The story being told here is mostly straightforward. We open with a young cab driver, Luz (Luana Velis), wandering into a police station where she begins screaming blasphemous vulgarities (“Our father, why art thou such a dick?” being a delightfully playful example). We then cut to a bar, where we meet psychotherapist, Dr. Rossini (Jan Bluthardt), who is talking to a seductive woman, Nora (Julia Riedler). Their meeting takes a turn when some kind of otherworldly consciousness is transferred to Rossini, which changes him. He is then paged in to assist in questioning Luz at the police station, where he puts her into hypnosis.
At this point, the rest of the film takes place in this one room where Rossini is working with a translator – because Luz speaks Spanish – and a detective to find out information about a passenger who went missing – Nora. From there, the story is slowly unfolded, revealing the presence of a demon that is trying to follow her. Her car ride is recreated within the room cutting between Rossini’s questioning and Luz’s “perspective” as she relives moments from prior to the events of the film.
The conceit might be simple, but the execution is far from it. It has a strange structure that doesn’t seem to be interested in standard narrative goals, and it deliberately keeps you in the dark about a lot of things, giving you only tiny bits of information, but usually without greater context. It’s a demanding film, which makes for a watch that can be a bit challenging and frustrating, if you aren’t prepared for it. I certainly wasn’t, but I was able to get on the film’s groove after a while. Though, given the slow and strange nature of the film, I can’t necessarily guarantee everybody would have the patience, even with a mere 70 minute runtime.
While the storytelling might not suit the taste for some, it stays very engaging due to the filmmaking. Singer’s direction is careful, detailed, and blocked with precision. It’s not the kind of 70 minute movie where it feels like the filmmakers are stretching an idea further than it needs to. It simply doesn’t waste a moment, it doesn’t waste a shot, or a beat. Everything is utilized to serve in creating a surreal and chilling atmosphere. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen, even if I didn’t fully understand what I was looking at.
I would say that Luz is a film that I admire more than I like, but I did like it. There are moments of frustrations to be had, but if you’re patient with it, and let the imagery and the music wash over you, it’s an unnerving experience. I watched it through a screener on my laptop, and the whole time, I was imagining how much better this would be if I saw it in a theater where I would have no choice but to give it my undivided attention. There’s clearly so much thought and care put into the craftsmanship and the offbeat storytelling that I was enamored by it. It makes it all seem even more impressive when I found out that this debut is also Singer’s student thesis project, which boggles the mind. Whatever Tilman Singer has in store for us next, I’m definitely keeping my eye out for it.