Flora Gomes clearly has an eye — the gap here is mine, not his. Tree of Blood (Po di sangui) looks gorgeous throughout, all striking compositions and a strong sense of place, the kind of film you'd happily watch on mute and still come away impressed.
Where it lost me was the rhythm. This plays like something built from folk stories and beats I simply don't have the reference points for, and I'll admit I drifted for long stretches. There's clearly a lot going on beneath the surface that I couldn't quite follow, and that's on me — not the film's job to hold my hand through traditions I haven't grown up with.
I enjoyed Mortu Nega last year, then chased down the restoration at LFF a couple of weeks later, so this isn't me going cold on Gomes. This one just asked for context I hadn't brought with me.
One to watch again once I've done my homework — ideally with a director's commentary this time.