Sofia’s review published on Letterboxd:
Jilting shots fuse with the luminescent abstractions of bones and skin— a man’s face, though distorted and phantasmic. He holds some machine to his eye, observes a man on horseback. The lens jostles and the wind howls— all is dark and light, spheres and abstractions. And then a man’s face intrudes— in all its sweat and exhausted glory, skin chiselled with fatigue, eyes haunted with some unspoken sorrow. More men— and still that silence. It is the sudden shock of the bullets that rupture their still and stubborn silence and bodies fall, lights flash and thrumming sounds invade and intrude with the piercing shriek of bullets soaring. Chaos and confusion. Disorientation of battle. Here, there is no room for words. Men suffer behind bars, eyes gouged out, throats constricted with nooses, senses utterly dislocated and meaning dismembered along with their bodies. The pain and chaos of corporeal and metaphysical upheaval. Utter sensory disorientation. Bodies writhe and contort amidst the gravestones, crosses and crucifixes throwing forth their now hollow meanings— some shining mockery. The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. The man runs, as if there is escape. As if he can clamber out of his own mind, as if he isn’t utterly confined.