Released by Neon for a premiere at Cannes in 2021, The Year of the Everlasting Storm brings together seven auteurs of world cinema to reflect on the tumultuous year that was 2020 through works of fiction, documentary, and experimentation.  Anthology films are always difficult to process as they live and die on how engaged we are with the material of the immediate.  If the short is good it can be hard to make that tonal leap to the next one, or if the short is not landing as it is intended it can drag the whole experience down.  The Year of the Everlasting Storm is not without those same problems, but also has to contend with our very-present feelings about 2020 and everything that happened therein on the global stage. 

The film opens with “Life” by Jafar Panahi from Iran.  It follows a couple in the early days of the pandemic when their mother-in-law comes to visit them.  She is clad in the full rubber suit and sprays sanitizer before and after touching anything and seeing that moment play out on screen was incredible.  At once it reminded us of the terror of the unknown at the dawn of the Covid-19 crisis, but it also reminds us just how far we have come, too.  As the visit continues, we learn that the mother-in-law is not a fan of Jafar’s pet iguana who has free roam of the house.  Outside the apartment, a pair of nesting birds’ eggs begin to hatch, and in this moment of new birth we realize the unity of shared experience we went through as a global community and the shared hope of a better and brighter future.  

Second is “The Break Away” by Anthony Chen in China.  Another short that follows a young couple in the early days of the pandemic, but instead of an aging parent, they have to balance life at home with a young child.  The strain and attitudes both parents have about the virus is the main source of tension in the short, and while they often clash with one another, we cannot help but to sympathize with them as they are both doing what they feel is best.  Through the intertitles, we see the despair and confusion we all suffered play out as “two weeks to flatten the curve” turned to seemingly endless months.  The way Chen was able to incorporate the viewpoint of the little boy and not just the struggling couple really made “The Break Away” one of the standout shorts in the film.  

Third in line is “Little Measures” by Malik Vitthal, the first of two documentaries and first of three USA-based entries.  It follows Bobby ‘Yay Yay’ Jones as he tries to reunite with his three children who live in separate foster homes all during the pandemic.  It also touches briefly of some of the racial tension that was brought to a boiling point in the cities and towns across America in the summer of 2020.  It had the potential to be a very moving piece, but Vitthal’s footage is almost entirely shot via facetime or zoom, and the dropped signal is just as frustrating to watch on screen as it is to experience in real life in this age of digital meetings and birthday parties. 

It is followed by the second of two documentaries, also from the USA, Laura Poitras brings us “Terror Contagion” which explores the Pegasus Spyware.  This entry also heavily relies on a zoom-type software, but the signal is much steadier and far easier to digest and follow.  It feels like a segment from Sixty Minutes at times and works as a great compliment to “Little Measures” as they are the two entries that do not fully focus on the virus.  The race relations are only briefly mentioned by Vitthal, and Poitras’ short ends by showing just how dangerous the Pegasus spyware could be if it ended up in the hands of law enforcement.  “Terror Contagion,” while well done and interesting to follow, does not seem to fit as seamlessly into the fabric of the film as the other shorts and would probably be able to best tell its story by expanding it as its own standalone documentary.   

Following that, we are transported to Chile for Dominga Sotomayor’s “Sin Titulo, 2020” which follows a mother and daughter pair that seek to break quarantine restrictions to visit the other daughter who just gave birth to a child.  This is a strange entry into the film, and one of the weaker narrative shorts.  It is very well put together but by this point in the film, it is not really providing anything new.  It is loosely framed around the production of a zoom concert, which again is an iconic piece of history from this strange time, but for current audiences still suffering from zoom fatigue the poignancy of the moment may be rejected.     

David Lowery delivers the final narrative short, “Dig Up My Darling,” in one of the bleakest and despairing takes of the whole film.  It takes place in a barren Texas after the disease has ravaged the state.  In a world reminiscent of The Walking Dead, we follow a woman making her way through a storage unit where she discovers a box of letters.  Piecing them together, she travels across the wasteland to an unmarked grave.  Told through voiceover from the letters, it is a haunting tale and one that will take root in your mind through its simplicity and imagery.  It is notable, again, that while this short does not highlight the existence of the virus as the others have, it clearly plays a large role in the word Lowery which has placed his camera; it is all very subtextual, but it might as well be written in bold face. 

Apithatpong Weerasethakul provides the coda – and also the title – of the film in his entry, “Night Colonies.”  It is a filmed art installation piece; bright lights shining down on a white bed spread, and the insects which it attracts.  It is totally silent except for the sound of the storm and the insects while the text of a poem fades in and out on the screen.  “Night Colonies” is a confounding, yet beautiful piece, that sums up the message of The Year of the Everlasting Storm quite well.  Life continues, so we must adapt.  While the six preceding shorts all showed the struggles of living in a world with Covid-19, Weerasethakul reminds us just how resilient we have become. 

The Year of the Everlasting Storm starts and ends very strongly, and while the middle three shorts are not bad works in any way, they do not fall into place as well as the others.  It provides a unique snapshot of a unique point of history which, as we become more and more removed from will probably age much better than viewing it today.  It is difficult to look back at some of these images while the pandemic is still among us, but it is good to remember just how far we have come.  The progress that was made and continues to be made, not just in regard to the pandemic, but for racial relations and government transparency, too.  There is a lot of work that still needs to be done… but life continues, so we must adapt.