In just under 80 minutes, this experimental documentary zips around North America between South Dakota, Washington State and Mexico as it deals with three pressing eco-political issues, all of which are bound up with the erosion of longstanding ways of life. A Common Sequence's first port of call is the Mexican state of Michoacán, home to the Lake Pátzcuaro salamander. This neotenic, axolotl-like creature—known locally as the achoque—is exclusively found in the body of water from which it takes its name, but overfishing, pollution and the introduction of invasive species have all contributed to nudging these salamanders to the brink of extinction; it is thought that less than a hundred achoques now exist in the wild, although four colonies for captive breeding have been established in Mexico. One such laboratory, close to Lake Pátzcuaro, is run by Dominican nuns, who extract a syrup from the achoques' skin, which is then sold to generate funds for the convent. The locals who consume the syrup do so in the hope that they may take on some of the achoque's special qualities, for these salamanders possess remarkable regenerative abilities, and can even regrow entire limbs.
Yet the achoque's borderline-magical properties have attracted attention way beyond Mexico, with the American military taking a keen interest in these remarkable amphibians' restorative capacities; perhaps unsurprisingly, the US Department of Defense has pored over the achoque's DNA to see if it can be used to help soldiers who have lost arms and/or legs. But A Common Sequence also considers how the human genome is being studied, with the film later moving its focus to the lands of the Cheyenne River Sioux, where it is alarmingly revealed how private companies are sequencing the DNA of indigenous peoples in an attempt to better understand their resistance to certain diseases; tribal sovereignty in the United States is not a new concept, but in A Common Sequence noted biological scientist Joseph Yracheta argues how people in general, and Native Americans in particular, should have control over their own DNA. The film's third narrative strand deals with a Washington State University AI machine that has learned to harvest apples, and this subject is linked back to Lake Pátzcuaro, as its fishermen, faced with a declining aquatic population for which they are partly responsible, have ventured to the Pacific Northwest in search of fruit-picking work.
A Common Sequence instils a sense of unease in the viewer as it looks to the future, with a planet that's staring down the barrel of a post-fossil fuel era already looking for new materials to extract and commodify. Although we are currently living in an age where data mining is commonplace, Mary Helena Clark and Mike Gibisser's film points to a world to come in which people are unwittingly reduced to a lengthy code consisting of just four distinct letters. With the possible exception of the US DoD's research into limb regeneration, all of the ventures detailed in A Common Sequence dance to the tune of capitalism, from the sale of the achoque oil to the logging of Native American DNA to the robot designed to outperform the workers it imitates. That the filmmakers have been able to weave these initially seemingly disparate threads into a fluid, cohesive whole says much about the skills of those behind the camera. What's more, A Common Sequence is as interesting visually as it is narratively, with some striking imagery used to good effect. This is an assured, thought-provoking film, one which deftly avoids didacticism as it invites speculation on what lies ahead.
Darren Arnold
Images: BFI
