My Name Is Salt

A gruelling way of life is depicted in Farida Pacha's compelling documentary, which opens fittingly with a quote from Albert Camus's essay The Myth of Sisyphus. Each year, Sanabhai Pagi takes his family to the Little Rann of Kutch in the Indian state of Gujarat, where they live in a small shack to harvest the salt crystals that are left behind when the retreating sea turns the coastline into a saline desert. However, as the brine lies 70ft below the surface, Sanabhai has to extract it and, each season, is forced to borrow money from the local salt merchant in order to buy diesel for his antiquated pump. Consequently, he has to break his back to turn a profit before the monsoons submerge the beaches and he heads for home. His young children muck in before cycling to their distant school, while wife Devuben provides unfailing support. But Pacha makes no attempt to construct a narrative from their existence. Instead, she and cameraman Lutz Konermann maintain a discreet distance to capture a unique trade in mesmerising detail.