Adrian Randall’s aptly described experimental documentary, A Human Year is Seven Earth Years is…expansive. In terms of the knowledge it conveys, the breadth of history it covers, the ramifications of that (ongoing) history which it highlights, and, perhaps most of all, in the depth of feeling which it transmits throughout all of the above.

The history described within it is one which I knew only a few tiny fragments of, and while its story of colonialism, capitalist expansion, and the subversion of otherwise radical forms absolutely conforms to the overall trajectory of history which I am already familiar with, its particulars are infinitely fascinating, exhaustively researched, and never, even for a moment, dry or unengaging.

To be fair, I have a pre-existing interest in its themes and topics, but I would be shocked if anyone walked away from it without having gained something; and I strongly, emphatically, encourage anyone intimidated by its runtime to watch it in full. Even as simply a piece of personal reflection, and an attempt to emotionally come to grips with our complicated and troubling history, it is utterly successful. If you don’t care about wireless transmitters now, Randall will change that, at least for an hour and a half.

I must admit, however, that its sheer breadth and depth of material is somewhat intimidating when it comes to formulating this response. While all works contain scales and nuances that the written word can’t capture, the density of information in A Human Year, and the intensity with which that information is charged by its delivery, goes beyond what I feel I can encapsulate for you here. And so I will refrain from attempting to cover its same ground, and rather than abridge the history it reflects in ways that would only fall short, I will instead focus on a single aspect of the documentary which I find especially admirable in any work. The unison, or perhaps rather the sympathetic reverberation, of message and medium.

Fairly early on in A Human Year we hear the phrase a science of point A to point B. This single sentence encapsulates, in a nutshell, much of the technological endeavors covered in its runtime. More importantly, it is also an encapsulation of the colonial ideology at work. The imperialist, capitalist labour of transmitting information, resources, people, control, from one point to another, undisturbed by any intervening territory. Whether that be literal, geographic territory, or social, economic, ethical, or psychological territory. The colonial drive is one of flattening, and erasure, and the lossless transmission of value from over there to over here. It is the strictly maintained illusion that all that is complex is really simple, and that where once there were manifold and intersecting waves of thought, action, value, power, there is now only a straight line.

But of course a straight line is really a wave. This is true for radio transmissions, (it’s right there in the name, radio waves) as well as many of the other fundamental physical phenomena of our universe. It is also true of power, and the complex ramifications it has on the world at large. It is true of history, which must be brutally redacted down, encrypted and compressed for easy transmission, and the construction of profitable narratives. It is true for political thought, and cultural memory, and economic systems, and on and on. Wherever a wave issues forth, the dominant powers await its arrival and then declare it but a line. Meanwhile, the ripples of the wave continue to rebound outward, ad infinitum.

The science of Point A to Point B.

A Human Year is an antidote to this process, at least as far as its particular histories of interest are concerned. It breaks down the straight lines of accepted events, and seeks to receive the lingering echoes of its waves, however many years later. Where the colonial machine and imperialist approach to science and technology eliminate nuance, repercussion, counternarrative, and affect, Randall’s experimental documentary revives and reconstitutes them. Where the capitalist drive erases any obstacle, and obscures all harm, A Human Year intentionally stumbles and feels pain. It goes beyond mere critique, and instead stands as an active counter example; as much methodology as message. It interrogates what lies between, within and around Points A and B, and other points beyond. It is the wave that breaks the line, or at least attempts to be, which is in itself a victory, and more than worthy of its runtime.

And that, I think, is all for this week. A brief response, but one which I needed an extra week to ruminate on, spoiled as I was by the wealth of the work in question. Next time you’re about to put on a let’s play or a Youtube video about some Marvel something-or-other, treat yourself to A Human Year instead. You can thank me later.