![]() At first, the film cultivates a sense of non-attention, dispersing the gaze across the placid, trippy goo. The fatty potion bubbles, quivers, floods with speed. For four seconds, it sounds like fluids rushing, rain driving. This lasts less than a minute then, time speeds up with a suddenness. Squirming streaks form along the surface, swishing and churning, drawing attention upwards and beyond the screen. My eyes follow the movement of the stream. ![]() The audio is the hollowed-out sound of the lapping of this liquid, the kind of sound that can only be heard when one’s head is completely submerged. Instead, the film feels intentionally thick: the fluid that consumes the screen seeps with a luxurious, even lazy quality in a basin of great depth. The time of the film has been slowed, yet even this effect isn’t readily apparent. In A Ravine, Khakshoor trains our gaze on movement and flow. ![]()
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