To say that a good part of it is made of Steadicam closeups on people walking—or rather marching, frowned, mostly on their own—might sound reductive, and yet is not, nor is a lie. Romain Gavras embraces the fashionable technique of long continuous shots to give his otherwise classically conceived tragedy a contemporary, relentless, human pulse. Arms throw Molotovs, but it’s when legs move that ideas are processed. Athena advances through reflective moments tightly framed, while fancily choreographed hectic sequences populated by hordes of extras serve as bridges and provide the spectacle—one of such furious energy to evoke the crazed spirits of Fury Road. To craft his complex camerawork, Gavras avoids resorting to CG, resulting in gravity and a more physical flow. Without indulging as many directors have done in recent years in ungrounded visual or technical itches, he knows when to cut and when the narrative requires a more conservative language. His background in music videos might be apparent, but however aesthetically stylised, his cinematic vision is convincing and efficient. I don’t mind how blurry is his political take, or shallow the social insights. Athena is about the inherent nonsense of any act of violence in a world where media and devices are catalysts of escalating apocalyptic traits. And she is the woman wearing no helmet that calls her sons in the most crucial moments reminding them, and us, what is at stake—what really is being destroyed.
