Memoria teases us with the playful beauty of film and its ability to travel through time and, in this case, maybe even dimensions, as we cut between storylines, between the past and present and between personal and collective realities, memories, histories and fictions. This kind of narrative time travel, combined with scenes so long you could eat a full meal during them, won’t do it for some but it is an absolute treat if you relish films that give you enough curious visual and aural hooks to dream along with them.
Somewhere in Baby God there’s a great piece about women who have had their trust, their very bodies, violated by a doctor who decided to exert unimaginable control over their lives. There’s a story about children grappling with who they really are, knowing that their biological father was a monster. And there’s a fascinating exploration of sexual abuse in the medical community, where a society that puts a great deal of faith in doctors can be blind to the exploitation and perversion of that trust.