“A hypnotic, provocative and deeply complex experience.”

Depending on the extent to which you subscribe to religious belief, the term “sermon” can have wildly different meanings. For some it’s a resounding celebration of their faith and its history, for others it’s a hopelessly outdated concept that rarely (if ever) has any real-world relevance and only serves to plunge the listener into a state of deep contemplation at best. It’s not entirely clear where Hilal Baydarov falls on this spectrum, but it hasn’t stopped him from actively seeking out new and inventive ways to describe the human condition. His second film to use this word in its title is Sermon to the Void (Boşluğa xütbə), a strange and disquieting existential epic that seeks answers to questions that most of us cannot even bring ourselves to ask without falling into a state of psychosis, in the fear of realizing that life is not nearly as straightforward as we imagine. Baydarov has used his origins to explore not only his native Azerbaijan (making a legitimate case for himself as the most prominent filmmaker to emerge from the country, particularly in the post-Soviet years), but to craft memorable, hypnotic depictions of landscapes that are somehow both recognizable and extremely uncanny, the poetry of his images countering the somewhat impenetrable nature of his narratives. This is the foundation on which we find him constructing this film, a strange and unsettling experimental work that refuses to adhere to any clear structure and instead chooses to move in its own abstract direction, becoming the very definition of an acquired taste, albeit one that is unforgettable.

Traditional commentary is usually dictated by exploring thematic content, followed by the execution of those ideas, a logical order that tends to give such a discussion structure. Yet, from its first moments, Sermon to the Void makes it clear that this is primarily an aesthetic piece, or rather a film in which the ideas can only be communicated through engaging with the images before even beginning to unpack what they represent. Not since Alejandro Jodorowsky essentially laid the foundation for contemporary experimental cinema with The Holy Mountain have we seen someone so committed to the act of crafting entirely bespoke images – the use of color, framing and general composition that comes about through Baydarov’s pursuit of a unique form of storytelling creates a film that pushes us inwards, allowing the viewer to get hopelessly lost in striking, otherworldly landscapes, where the gradual, slow-paced approach to the storytelling is matched beat-by-beat by the use of long panning shots that portray these mystical locations in a way they have never been captured before. There is never a moment in this film where we can recognize anything, which is less a comment on the director’s decision to film in some of the most remote locations available to him, and more a statement on the extent to which he was willing to go to challenge the confines of his craft. The results are objectively beautiful – the rich, textured colors create a mesmerizing landscape, which becomes so striking that we gradually outgrow the need to rationalize the content of the film.

We are naturally predisposed to speak about what we understand, and therefore acknowledging the visually striking appearance of Sermon to the Void is far easier than even attempting to understand the themes that the director is choosing to explore. Early in the film we are given a few contextual clues – the film follows a protagonist as he is in search of the “water of life”, the elusive construct that has its roots in both religion and more secular mythologies. In both it acts as the source of eternal nourishment and complete spiritual enlightenment, with most religions and cultures touching on such a concept. This is where any concrete understanding of these themes ends, since what follows is a two-hour existential epic in which Baydarov attempts to make a statement on concepts that not even the most experienced of theorists have been able to define in coherent terms. Sermon to the Void is a free-form visual essay on the search for spirituality and the experience of existing in a world where our very birth (both in terms of us as individuals and the earth as a whole) is a scientific marvel, something so improbable yet captivating. Throughout what is essentially a lengthy monologue, delivered entirely in voiceover by Huseyn Nasirov, the film touches on the subject of yearning for fulfilment in a hostile world in which seemingly nothing makes sense. The feeling of isolation – particularly reflected in the narrator’s fragmented discussions of his internal quandaries, which we can consider to be said on behalf of humanity as a whole – contrasts with the idea of consistently being in transit, the protagonist being one of the countless people who have attempted to meander through these environments, seeking meaning and coming to realize that perhaps life is simply as arbitrary and aimless as it seems, but where it is still worth exploring.

While it may not be entirely correct to refer to it as a word of caution, anyone stepping into the world of Sermon to the Void will need to be at least partially aware of what to expect, as well as being ready to abandon all sense of logic. This is not a film that relies on any coherent storyline, with the disjointed narration and striking, unconventional imagery making it quite clear that any attempt to comprehend it will likely be a fool’s errand. Instead, it is better to simply surrender to the film, understanding that this is more of a mood piece, an exploration of the inner workings of the human mind, crafted by a director whose entire raison d’être is to dismantle traditional narrative structure. Socrates supposedly once stated that “the unexamined life is not worth living”, which is perhaps the most succinct and clear definition of philosophy as both a field of academic inquiry and a way of life – but what we often don’t take into account is that examining life does not always allow us to understand every aspect of it. This is precisely what Baydarov is attempting to convey with this film, a vibrant painting brought to life in which the images are striking but their exact meanings are left to individual interpretation. We can attempt to look at this film as a bold statement on isolation, the experience of becoming self-aware, or the effort we take to make sense of life – but ultimately, all we can do is surrender to the void, which this film implies is not some vacant, hopeless absence of any meaning, but rather the exact inverse: there is meaning in the most unexpected places, we often have to look inwards to find it, or at least realize that the endeavor to understand life is simply impossible. A hypnotic, provocative and deeply complex experience that is not going to have widespread appeal, but will be most suited to those who are interested in seeing both the cinematic form and foundation of philosophical curiosity reworked, Sermon to the Void is a fascinating and challenging film, and wholly unforgettable.