Darlene Naponse shows versatility in AKI, as she switches from fiction to documentary, to show nature in her community. Birds fly near silos even in winter, perhaps a sign that the thick snow is bound to melt sooner than one may have expected. And perhaps one’s interpretation of her stunning visuals may just be correct. Because later, water gushes from the riverside. Regardless of the season, nature rules over humans, but the Indigenous people still play games and do things together.

Human subjects are few and far between in a documentary that brings focus towards some natural phenomenon. But their scarce presence on screen makes them conspicuous mostly for the better but of course I have thoughts. Human presence reinforces Indigenous ideas in contrast against Western ones, the latter seeking to control nature. AKI, instead, shows humans as just one of many creatures quietly working to harvest what nature has to offer us.

AKI showing humans as one of many elements of nature instead of the creature most blessed is one interpretation here. Another interpretation here is that humans – with their community and technology – and nature are separate. That other interpretation makes sense as Naponse stubbornly sticks to her conceit to have no human speaking. Maybe stubbornness is too strong of a word, but an almost silent film feels too inorganic.

But I can’t really fault AKI for sticking to its guns and putting the landscapes at the forefront of a nature documentary. She has intertitles referring to seasons – Biboon (winter), Mnookmi (spring), Niibin (summer), and Dgwaagi (autumn). Marking those transition periods is a score that swells, using different instrumentation to make one feel that magic. The land she’s from is inherently interesting, from the birds in the sky to the waters to the plants bearing fruit for all.