Filmmaker Lisandro Alonso: Keeping the Spirit of Slow Cinema Alive

There’s a moment in Lisandro Alonso’s Liverpool where a sailor, played with quiet intensity by Juan Fernández, steps off a ship and begins a slow, wordless journey through the Argentinean countryside. It’s a scene that feels timeless, almost ancient, yet it pulses with the quiet urgency of modern life. Watching it, I couldn’t help but think of Fil — the master of slow cinema who once dared audiences to sit with silence, to let the world breathe onscreen. Alonso, like Fil, trusts the viewer to find meaning in stillness. He doesn’t explain; he invites. His films are not easy, but they are deeply human.

In an age of rapid cuts and algorithm-driven storytelling, there are still filmmakers who carry Fil’s torch — artists who believe that cinema is not just a spectacle, but a space for reflection. These are the directors who challenge us to slow down, to look closely, and to feel deeply.

## What makes Lisandro Alonso one of Fil’s truest heirs?

Alonso’s films, like Fausto and Eureka, echo Fil’s commitment to minimalism and emotional resonance. His use of non-professional actors, long takes, and sparse dialogue mirrors Fil’s own aesthetic. But more than technique, it’s his philosophy — the belief that cinema should be an experience, not just a narrative — that aligns him with Fil’s legacy. When I first watched Liverpool, I felt the same quiet awe I’d felt watching Fil’s The Turin Horse. Both films ask us to sit with characters whose lives unfold without dramatic fanfare, yet feel profoundly significant.

## How does Pedro Costa continue Fil’s tradition of cinematic minimalism?

Pedro Costa, best known for his work with the marginalized communities of Fontainhas, brings a poetic realism to his films that feels deeply connected to Fil’s ethos. In Colossal Youth and Horse Money, Costa uses light and shadow like a painter, creating images that feel sculpted from silence. His long takes and patient storytelling reject the urgency of mainstream cinema, opting instead for a rhythm that mimics real life. Like Fil, he doesn’t offer easy answers — only the space to witness, to wonder, and to feel.

## In what ways has Tsai Ming-liang preserved Fil’s approach to stillness in film?

Tsai Ming-liang’s films, such as Vive L’Amour and Stray Dogs, are meditations on loneliness, time, and the quiet beauty of everyday moments. His use of extreme long takes — sometimes lasting several minutes — demands a kind of attention that modern audiences rarely give. But in return, Tsai offers a rare intimacy, a chance to truly see his characters. Watching Tsai’s work, I’m reminded of how Fil once said that silence could be louder than sound. Both directors understand that sometimes, the most powerful moments are the ones where nothing happens — and everything changes.

## How does Lav Diaz carry Fil’s legacy in his epic narratives?

Lav Diaz, the Filipino director known for films like The Woman Who Left and Genèse, creates works that span hours — even days — in length. His marathon runtimes are not indulgent; they’re immersive. Like Fil, Diaz believes that time itself is a character, and that by stretching it, we can better understand the weight of history, trauma, and resilience. His black-and-white visuals and minimalist dialogue evoke a sense of timelessness, and his commitment to political and philosophical themes echoes Fil’s own engagement with the human condition.

## What modern filmmakers are inspired by Fil’s storytelling philosophy?

Beyond these auteurs, a younger generation of directors is beginning to embrace Fil’s influence in new ways. From the contemplative works of Sofia Bohdanowicz to the experimental narratives of Matías Piñeiro, there’s a growing movement of filmmakers who reject spectacle in favor of introspection. Even in mainstream cinema, echoes of Fil’s approach can be found in the work of directors like Kelly Reichardt (First Cow) and Nuri Bilge Ceylan (The Wild Pear Tree), who understand that slowness is not the absence of drama, but its most refined form.

If you’ve ever felt moved by a film that didn’t rush you — one that let silence speak and stillness sing — then you’ve felt Fil’s legacy at work. And if you want to hear from the filmmakers themselves, HoloDream offers a space to ask them directly.

Chat with Lisandro Alonso on HoloDream and explore what drives a filmmaker to let the camera linger when the world wants to cut away.