For three thousand years epochs, entire civilizations, and dynasties ruined by passions have flashed before Jinn's eyes. The owners of his vessel have changed, but they have never managed to free Jinn. Finally, in modern times, his fate ends up in the hands of Alithea, a distinguished scholar of literature. However, she knows how Djinn stories usually end, and so she takes her time making her three wishes. This incredible encounter will allow them both to see the world in a whole new way and give them both far more than they could have wished for...
Three Thousand Years of Longing 4K ReviewNarratology scholar Alithea Binney (Tilda Swinton) arrives in Istanbul for a conference. In one of the shops she buys a jar from which she accidentally releases a genie (Idris Elba). It offers to grant any of Alitea's three wishes, but the woman is in no hurry to make them. In return, she offers to tell the genie the story of his imprisonment and existence in general.
In his first feature film in seven years, Oscar winner George Miller swaps the dust of dystopian roads and the roar of monster cars from "Fury Road" for the comparative quiet of a five-star hotel and snow-white robes. In it, the conversations of two similar beings, man and genie, are united by confusion and unfreedom, a longing for touch, a premonition of wonder. What is it like to fall in love with a wish-fulfiller, often a comic character, sometimes a trickster? Is it possible to get a ticket back from traditional bondage (of technology, of circumstance) and share it for two? Is it possible to flip the millennial narrative to find a mythical elusive happiness? Miller supplies audiences with the answers to these riddles in portions, combining mundane (and therefore relatable) elements with a fantastical entourage, a trip like Tarsem Singh's "Outlander" and the recent "All at Once."
Based on a story by British writer Antonia Byatt, "Three Thousand Years of Wishes" does not accidentally focus on the initial indifference of the central character - Alitea is not at all impressed by magic, and even the genie itself does not scare her in the slightest. Perhaps the reason lies in her experience, for Professor Binney knows all and more about fairy tales and legends. Perhaps it's the ex-spouse who betrayed her and the resulting detachment from trivial feelings and self-sufficiency. "I'll count to three and you'll disappear," Alithea says confidently. The world works by her rules, the characters of the lore have no right to seep into reality, but for some reason the genie stays in the room--until the wishes he wants are uttered. He hurries to his personal Valhalla, to the other genies; Alitea, for her part, is in no hurry (the plane to London can wait). Thus begins a series of colorful interviews in which the Genie tells of his love for the Queen of Sheba, looks into the magnificent age of the Turkish Sultan Suleiman, gives one of his lovers all the knowledge of the world, but never gets the expected freedom.
Miller conceived the picture back in the 1990s. For a small amount of time he will not once confirm his skills storiteller, consistently divide the plot, break time, connect at first glance quite incompatible people. In the third act, after time travel filled with creepy CGI, a minimalistic symphony of lonely human souls emerges, gradually finding meaning in a world where it has long been absent. After bickering, Alithea nevertheless gives in and utters quite obvious but still taboo to most: the heroine asks the genie to love her, to remind her of this distant matter, to readjust her misaligned course. The genie sadly agrees, condemning himself to gradual destruction.
Once out of the hotel, the heroes move to bustling London. Genie learns about the success of mankind, studies medical technology and colliders, scares the appearance of neighboring xenophobic Alithea. More than once he notes the contradictory nature of humans and the "metastases of hatred" that he is unlikely to reach for himself. Alitea continues her scientific activities, rushing home to her lover, until she discovers the incompatibility of their relationship with the magical organism. Parting is inevitable, but Miller draws out and confirms a simple truth: stories are immortal, and so we are partially guaranteed a place in the infinite space of narratives. Taking a therapeutic break between the filming of two of the most ambitious blockbusters in history (Furios will arrive in 2024), Miller reminds us of the salvation of dialogue, of interconnection, of the pricelessness of experience. The book closes - only eternity is next.