The trains of thought stirred up by the film's contemplation of what is here and what is there - and where you are - are endless and stimulating. And the movie is embellished with spectacularly beautiful, enigmatic bursts of abstract imagery.
You must be willing to give yourself to Braden King's debut feature, a slow, meandering and sumptuously photographed road trip combined with an intimate love story. I gave, and I got. A lot.
The film captures some impressive landscapes and layers an eclectic mix of original and traditional Armenian music over its unhurried travel time. But unless you count doing a lot of vodka shots, this is a dramatically uneventful two hours.
Languid road movie, punctuated by ponderous abstract interludes, about a young American mapmaker in Armenia who meets a prodigal woman photographer. A promising filmmaker needs to his lose art-school baby fat.
Viewers get ample time to luxuriate in the landscapes while gritting our teeth over Peter Coyote's pseudomythic narration and the sort of WTF meta touches that a first-year film student might find ridiculous.
While everything here is mostly unspoken, and the film itself hints at a broader set of concerns than simply two lost souls meeting on foreign ground, Here too often feels like a jumble of ideas that don't quite cohere.