Smoke Sauna Sis­ter­hood review – one to reflect on in the bath

Naked in the steam-filled dark­ness of the sauna, a group of women unlock unset­tling mem­o­ries and reveal their inner­most thoughts. They remem­ber their unfath­omable moth­ers, and what it was like to become women – they talk about their lives, cov­er­ing sub­jects from dis­sat­is­fac­tion with their bod­ies, to sex­u­al­i­ty, ill­ness, fam­i­lies, death, social pres­sures and the shame that comes with them.

In Smoke Sauna Sis­ter­hood, writer/​director Anna Hint invites the view­er to be a fly on the wall as the (most­ly unscript­ed) secrets shared in the sauna are spo­ken into smoke, evap­o­rat­ing before the women leave to bathe in icy water and com­plete the process of phys­i­cal and spir­i­tu­al catharsis.

Hint’s doc­u­men­tary is mas­ter­ful­ly shot by cam­era­man Ants Tam­mik, extreme­ly can­did and inti­mate but respect­ful – the nudi­ty is nev­er sex­u­alised, even when they are talk­ing about sex­u­al­i­ty. The cam­era is held close enough to the women’s bod­ies to see droplets of con­den­sa­tion, often con­cen­trat­ing on knees, breasts or stom­achs belong­ing to dif­fer­ent peo­ple rather than one whole body or face, as they con­verse dur­ing dif­fer­ent parts of the bathing routine.

The par­tial dis­em­bod­i­ment and anonymi­sa­tion of voic­es – you can rarely tell who’s speak­ing – helps to under­stand the sauna’s role as a con­fes­sion­al. The focus on the repet­i­tive motions of bathing demon­strates the con­so­la­tion offered by rit­u­als, espe­cial­ly ones so ancient. The wood-fired smoke sauna of the Vana-Võro­maa in South­east Esto­nia is a part of the UNESCO List of The Intan­gi­ble Cul­tur­al Her­itage of Human­i­ty – in the past (liv­ing mem­o­ry for some in the film) it was where women gave birth, and where bod­ies were pre­pared after death. The spir­i­tu­al sig­nif­i­cance of this space is illus­trat­ed unob­tru­sive­ly – shown in prac­tice and evi­dent in con­ver­sa­tions, at no point is there an over­load of information.

Smoke Sauna Sis­ter­hood nev­er leaves this lim­i­nal space as the women wash each oth­er and talk. At 90 min­utes, this con­tin­u­ous visu­al nar­ra­tive – punc­tu­at­ed only by an accor­dion play­er sit­ting on the sauna steps, and snowy land­scape shots – drags at times, induc­ing the drowsi­ness that takes over in a room­ful of aro­mat­ic steam. This adds to the immer­sive effect, but it would have been inter­est­ing to see aspects of their every­day lives by con­trast, to empha­sise the ongo­ing role of this ancient tra­di­tion in mod­ern times and show the ever-chang­ing con­texts for time­less woes and worries.

To see this film in a cin­e­ma would com­plete the expe­ri­ence – the back­ground is almost total­ly dark or illu­mi­nat­ed by the sin­gle win­dow in the hut, reveal­ing the hushed and shad­owed sanc­ti­ty of the sauna. The space is an egal­i­tar­i­an one – a place in which every­one has the chance to speak, every sto­ry is valid no mat­ter how embar­rass­ing, and judge­ment is shucked with one’s clothes at the entrance. Smoke Sauna Sis­ter­hood is a win­dow into an envi­able cul­tur­al prac­tice of sol­i­dar­i­ty, as the safe com­mu­nal space pro­vides a place for gos­sip and laugh­ter as well as the expres­sion of pain.

Lit­tle White Lies is com­mit­ted to cham­pi­oning great movies and the tal­ent­ed peo­ple who make them.

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