Three Thousand Years of Longing: The Mythology of Humanity

George Miller - director of Mad Max, The Witches of Eastwick, and Happy Feet returns to the big screen with his latest effort: Three Thousand Years of Longing. Featuring Tilda Swinton as a solitary narratologist, Alithea Binnie, who stumbles upon an ancient bottle in Istanbul that contains Idris Elba’s mythical Djinn. Granted three wishes yet unable to think of even one, the film is centred around the stories told of wishes made in the Djinn’s past, in an effort to spark desires in the heart of the seemingly content Alithea.

The first hour of this film was fascinating, moving, highly base yet completely exploratory of tales that feel like they have been in the bones of humanity since the beginning of time. It may have just been Idris Elba telling his stories of love and loss, knowledge and power, but that first hour was an absolutely enchanting exhumation of what it means to bear witness to our shared history. Despite his protestations, these three tales of how the Djinn came to be trapped in the bottle prove to be so indicative of what it truly means to be human - the love and connections we share with each other level even mythical beings capable of impossibilities.

Idris Elba’s performance is incredible, consistently throughout the film he is doing so much heavy lifting that I feel will go unnoticed by a lot of people due to a lot of it being accentuated perfectly by his voice work. Despite the fact that at times the ancient Djinn cadence that Elba adopts, sometimes falters and allows the familiar British tones to slip through the cracks. Swinton also plays typical Swinton, agitated, tightly wound, and emotionally guarded yet so obviously straining under her own pressure. The two bounce off of each other extremely well regardless of what stage they’re at in their quickly developing dynamic.

As well as the more emotional exploration of human connection, Three Thousand Years of Longing also takes a completely fascinating study of human history and storytelling. Layered, and understanding, the ancient settings and characters in the Djinn’s tales add a mysticism and weight to the entire production that is, at times. breath taking. So many frames bursting with colour and detail, there simply was not enough time to savour every element that was crammed into certain scenes of the film. Miller’s command of spectacle on even the smallest level is something to be completely admired, some of the most beautiful shots of the film could be still life paintings: bottles line the shelves of an ancient Ottoman spire, cobwebs fill a centuries old bathhouse, empires rise and fall around a stone in a castle wall. Each chapter of Djinn’s story is infused with magic, both radiating out of images on screen, and pulsating through the words of the characters - these lives may have been lived three thousand years ago, but Elba’s character finds ways to span the void between not only Swinton’s enthralled Alithea, but also us as an audience.

This experience could not sustain itself throughout the entire film, however, and after an enchanting first hour the beauty and messages were replaced with a bit of a clunkier final 30 minutes. This is not to say that Miller ruined the film, or anything of the sort. I am completely sympathetic to the needs of the narrative form in which the film finds itself; this point does not apply to every film, but the first hour would be nothing if it didn’t have a conclusion, a point to the whole venture. Swinton’s realisation that the two characters can experience their solitudes together is a natural progression of the film’s themes up until this point, it just seems that Elba’s storytelling was almost too good. When his narratives are over, and his situation explained, we return to a more active style of story telling, Miller now taking the reigns of the Djinn’s story, putting us as a viewership in Alithea’s place - enchanted by the story of two beings finding companionship in each other’s presence. It’s just a different kind of love, yet I wanted to remain in the reminiscence of the Djinn, another thirty minutes or even a full hour would have been more than welcome; a testament to the strength of the Millers’ storytelling ability.

★★★★

Resoundingly, I recommend Three Thousand Years of Longing, even if just for an experience at the movies with a film that I feel doesn't get made much anymore. One that feels classic in it’s execution of core themes that have been constant markers of humanity throughout our history, told in a mythical, wholly engaging way by Miller.