In the sense that it lacks the conventions of any particular trend or mode, The Claim is timeless filmmaking. It betrays no resemblance to any single period in film's modern history, and could've as easily appeared in 1985, or 1965, as now. Of all the cinematic influences Director Winterbottom might ally, he seems to have ignored all but one: himself. Leaving behind contemporary notions of style or authorism, he guides us through the story of a pioneer man's creation of himself, his young aspirations, and the insurmountable grief he eventually reaps. Winterbottom's camera moves softly and beautifully, even in and out of focus, as if navigating slowly through falling snow or sluggish cold air. But the film, for all it's seemingly languorous pace, never once leaves us for wont of a scene to move on, or for the story to ascend another level of fullness. The story will chill your heart as deeply as it's landscape will chill your bones.
