Shueti

If there’s one thing about the mysterious director Shueti, who’s always chosen to remain anonymous and refuses to do interviews, it’s that his works speak for themselves. Recently, I had the chance to visit the set of his latest film, NO MAN’S LAND. A perfect opportunity for me to dive deeper into a filmmaker that’s always fascinated me.

Seen through the eyes of 11 influential individuals, NO MAN’S LAND focuses on the subjects’ inner monologue as they consider the impact of the corona crisis. Shot on 35 mm film, the project mixes dreamy sequences with raw and realistic portraits. Making us wonder whether we are looking at the real world, or something more intangible. This is where we immediately recognize the hand of Shueti. He always finds a way to make very normal things magical. Or very magical things normal.

The first time I ever came into contact with Shueti was through a piece called ‘AGHORI’. In it, we see an Indian priest in the Thar desert moving in a trance. As the music and body movements of the priest intensify we get a feeling that something is about to happen.

Shueti focuses on little details such as muscles tensing and uses subtle jump cuts to make these movements more extreme, suggesting we are watching something supernatural. As the priest jumps up near the end of the film he splits into four interconnected versions of himself. Time slows down, suspending him in the air surrounded by a bluish glow.

The way this moment was established in the seconds leading up to it makes it magical and mundane at the very same time. We know it’s impossible, we can clearly see the special effects happening in front of our eyes. And yet, within the realm of what we are watching, it seems completely plausible.

Just as in AGHORI, NO MAN’S LAND uses an almost documentary style of filming to lure us into taking what we see at face value. At first we see people riding in the back of a car or walking towards an outdoor theatre like nothing is the matter. But then we cut to the image of a man floating above an endless ocean and the theatre seats start to drift up into the air. And we realise that in the world of Shueti, things are almost never what they seem.

His work for G-star is a perfect example of this. The film opens with a shot of black, rippling fabric. And then shows a row of eight versions of Magnus Carlsen, the Norwegian chess grandmaster, as the eight pawns from the game of chess. Next we see him on a large, black horse. Everything is silent for a moment. Then the horse stomps his foot and we cut back to the shot of the rippling fabric. It’s then that we discover that what we thought to be a flag is actually the horse’s muscles, moving under his skin as he’s galloping. It’s with these kinds of reveals that Shueti always keeps you guessing.

Picture this, we fade in from black and find ourselves floating over a glistening expanse of snow, before entering a hallway, still floating and slowly rotating. We see a man sitting behind a desk, working on something we cannot see before shooting through a tunnel, flying over a stunning river delta and having a geyser explode in our faces. Grains of sand floating in the air seamlessly morph into a shot of the starry night sky. Before we shoot back through the tunnel and end up floating high above a beautiful glacier. If I didn’t tell you I’m describing Shueti’s work for Jaeger-LeCoultre, a luxury watchmaker from Switzerland, you’d swear I was telling you about a dream I had last night.

And that’s what ultimately attracts me to the works of Shueti. Not knowing whether what I’m watching is real, or something from a place beyond reality. In a way it’s both at the same time. Shueti’s way of making the real seem magical in turn makes the magical seem real. So after watching something made by Shueti I’m always left with this feeling that with the right eye and attitude, the world can be anything I want it to be.