One of the best uses of celluloid ever undertaken, Baraka is a documentary of images with no plot, characters, story or actors. It's intent is purely to show the most wondrous, haunting and beautiful images, possibly the best collection of them ever seen on screen.

With a left-leaning and environmental bent, it's not a prissy study of lovely gardens and bubbling brooks, but shows the motion and poetry of machinery, war, humankind and the animal kingdom. The camera shows a rocky landscape lit by the speeding passage of the moon, drifts over a graveyard of B52 bombers, follows an assembly line in a factory and gets lingering looks from native people across the world.

It's all set to a stunning soundtrack and when it's over you'll only remember a handful of sequences (there's too many to remember them all), but you'll remember the breathlessness the film left you with. If this kind of imagery could be woven in to a narrative, it would almost be the perfect film.

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