Electric Malady

CONIC FILM

Electric Malady is a documentary about an issue slowly simmering under the epidermis of other societal woes, the growing and as-of-yet medically unrecognized problem of electrosensitivity, an adverse response some people report to electromagnetic radiation emitted by electrical equipment, screens, phones and other technological advancements that have been successfully integrated into our lives. Interestingly though, Marie Lidén who directed this film and who was nominated for a BAFTA for it too, made the right choice to follow the age-old rule of effective journalism in telling her story and, instead of educating the public on the matter she feels passionately about and to which she has a deep personal connection, she scaled it down to the perspective of one individual whose life she chose to follow.  

William, the protagonist of the film, is a recluse who lives in the forest, away from the familiar tumult of the civilized world. Not by choice, but by necessity. He leads a tragic existence in complete isolation, separated from the world by fabrics, copper mesh and blankets which, as he surmises, tune out electromagnetic radiation, unfiltered presence of which has become not only acutely frustrating to him, but quite frankly debilitating. Lidén’s camera follows William and his parents and paints a picture of everyday life completely overshadowed by a mysterious and ominous malady that seems to have irreparably affected not only William’s life, but the lives of everyone around him. 

Even though the filmmaker’s voice is sometimes heard from behind the camera, as she prompts William’s parents to tell her about their strife or as she prompts William to open up about the tragedy of his isolation, or how he copes with the hand he was dealt, Electric Malady functions predominantly as a work of cinema verité, where the camera speaks the truth on its own with minimal interference of the filmmaker. Lidén confidently lingers on emotive moments of silence, allows the viewer to cohabit William’s space, even by way of obscuring the viewer’s vision, and chooses to make her film an experience the audience would be able to interact with on an emotional level. She consciously chooses to leave out hard facts about the problem her movie tackles until the very end and only in passing she alludes to the fact that electrosensitivity remains unrecognized medically. That’s because as far as the film is concerned, it is all irrelevant. What matters to the filmmaker and what should matter to the audience is William’s tragic solitude, through which he soldiers on held together by dying embers of hope.  

In doing so, however, Lidén’s movie becomes way more general, breaks through the confines of activist documentary filmmaking, and gives the viewer enough latitude to map more general interpretations onto it. Electrosensitivity aside, Electric Malady is a study on isolation and perhaps an inadvertent look at the price of the pace of medical research, especially in the field of mental health. As William’s father implies, it would have been easier if he had just broken his leg because a fractured bone is visible to the naked eye. William’s ailment remains elusive to practitioners of medicine, and it is not exactly clear how he should be diagnosed, let alone treated. This naturally raises questions and leaves one wondering if his disease is even real, but that’s – again – besides the point. After all, not too long ago, depression and anxiety often went completely unrecognized and suffering patients were left to their own devices.  

Thus, Electric Malady functions on a more general plane of emotional connection with a human being in distress, who remains misunderstood, helpless, and alone, all of which Lidén’s filmmaking fleshes out and embeds in the viewer experience. As a result, it isn’t the easiest film to watch, and some viewers may see it as too languid for its own good. But there is a purpose and conviction in the way this movie is put together. It is equally a piece of attention-raising activism on behalf of those Lidén feels passionately about, as it is an experiential capsule meant to help the viewer walk a mile in the shoes of someone whose freedom was taken away from them by forces beyond their control and perhaps beyond our current scientific understanding.  



Jakub Flasz

Jakub is a passionate cinenthusiast, self-taught cinescholar, ardent cinepreacher and occasional cinesatirist. He is a card-carrying apologist for John Carpenter and Richard Linklater's beta-orbiter whose favourite pastime is penning piles of verbiage about movies.

Twitter: @talkaboutfilm

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