Infinity River
Thousands of workers take the ferry across Lisbon’s Tagus River every day. They’re commuters just like those you see everywhere in buses, trains and subways. In the ceaseless flow of humanity they disappear anonymously into the crowd. This film is Gonçalo Pina’s cinematic tribute to these “invisibles.”
See the cleaning lady who, early in the morning, makes the sterile flex offices even more pristine; the aging construction worker carrying, sawing and demolishing at one of the many new building projects; the food delivery worker racing up and down the city’s hills. On the soundtrack, you hear sponges scrubbing, drills drilling or bicycle tires whirring on asphalt. There is hardly any dialogue. The meticulously composed shots convey the story—sometimes in evocative close-ups, sometimes in glimpses through openings or on small tableaus.
Little details reveal something more personal: a lunchbox from home, a phone message that never gets sent, a possibly sick child at home. The individual stories ultimately merge into dreamlike portraits of people at rest, late in the evening, on their way home.
