Into the Unknown

When filmmaker Matthew Thomas Ross was diagnosed with cancer, he decided to use his art to chronicle the battle. What results is an overwhelmingly beautiful documentary about life, memory, and perseverance. The pain which Matthew has been forced to reckon with is truly heartbreaking, and the film’s deeply personal tone and approach means that the viewer gets a deep insight into the fears and processes those battling cancer face. However, what makes this doc so moving is how this individual is able to use his optimism, love for life, and passion for cinema to create such a profound and poetic expression of time – “past, present and future”.

There’s no other movie quite like it. In the film, it’s discussed how Into the Unknown was originally meant to be a short, but because of the extended period of chemotherapy, it eventually turned into this all-encompassing, almost impressionistic feature piece. One can really tell that this is made by someone who’s not only a talented storyteller on the technical level, but who also understands art as an outlet for complicated and turbulent periods of living – a kind of personal craft which many have turned to as a way of making sense of the chaos. It’s wonderful to witness such a handmade sentiment, and its overall tactility can also be attributed to the picture’s exciting format...

Matthew Thomas Ross is clearly in love with film stock, and he even talks about its metaphorical implications as a physical mode a capturing the world. It’s an incredibly hypnotic-looking work. Its fluctuating mediums range from 8mm to 16mm and then splicing in some old home videos, and all of it feels overwhelmingly vibrant and nostalgic. It simply wouldn’t be as unique and immersive without this additional layer. Film’s historic aesthetics are operating in tandem with the themes and ideas at the core of Matthew’s inspiring journey; his personality as a film enthusiast shining through in every moment.

In addition to the shooting, it’s the construction through the editing which transforms the visuals into something with transcendent, sensory meaning. Some of the film reminds me of Agnès Varda’s best work in how techniques are openly discussed verbally and through the form itself – we even see the timeline of the edit. He says how, as a filmmaker, he tends to focus on the story and its plot mechanics; but here, he bravely allows the work to take on a more fluid temperament. It’s a very honest way of making a documentary.

In summation, this is outstanding work. A vulnerable doc which toes the line between being unwatchably sad and stunningly hopeful. When considering the fact that this was made by someone having to face things that nobody ever should, it’s amazing that he’s managed to use his struggle, courage and artistry to produce such a perfect expression.  I would absolutely recommend everyone seek this movie out when it gets its release, and I sincerely hope that it finds its audience. Experimental and touching from beginning to end, this is essential viewing.