Ghost and Memory in the Cinematic Vision of Asif Kapadia

In his most recent work, 2073, Asif Kapadia merges a decade-spanning career of visual storytelling with a bold new approach to documentary filmmaking. Known for his award-winning portraits such as Senna and Amy, Kapadia continues to blur the lines between archival journalism and poetic construction. But with 2073, he turns his attention to a future that feels uncomfortably like the present — a collapsing world meticulously assembled from real images and speculative fiction.

The film presents a haunting narrative centered on a survivor named Ghost, played by Samantha Morton, who inhabits the ruins of New San Francisco. Her underground existence, defined by silence and surveillance, unfolds alongside real-world footage of environmental destruction, political violence, and technological control. What distinguishes 2073 is not only its dystopian vision but its method of construction: using mobile phone clips, documentary reels, and historical images to fabricate a future scenario without creating much of anything from scratch. This technique pushes the boundaries of nonfiction filmmaking, echoing earlier influences such as Chris Marker’s La Jetée and aligning with the experimental traditions of Peter Watkins and Alfonso Cuarón.

Kapadia’s collaboration with longtime editor Chris King and dramatist Sylvie Landra created a dual-structure production. King handled the documentary sequences while Landra directed the fictional elements, allowing the film to maintain a dynamic tension between past and future. Their innovative use of LED stage technology, similar to that used in The Mandalorian, gave the futuristic scenes a tactile realism. At the same time, the presence of authentic footage grounds the narrative in a recognizable world. Viewers might see familiar protests, burning forests, or refugee camps and be unable to distinguish whether they belong to today or tomorrow.

Interviews with global journalists such as Maria Ressa, Carole Cadwalladr, and Rana Ayyub further root 2073 in the ongoing struggle for truth. Their commentary — integrated into the film rather than delivered as standalone interviews — provides context for the authoritarian systems portrayed onscreen. Kapadia, drawing from his own experiences with surveillance and suspicion after being placed on a U.S. watch list, understands the cost of dissent. That personal history informs the film’s pervasive mood of caution and urgency.

What emerges is less a singular story than a network of global anxieties. The film’s structure reveals repeating patterns across countries and ideologies, suggesting a shared fate unless systemic changes are enacted. As Ghost scours the remnants of her world, her voice-over reflects the film’s central claim: that the apocalypse is not an event, but a process — one that has already begun.

Kapadia’s intent is not to offer comfort. Instead, 2073 acts as a mirror, confronting viewers with a narrative constructed entirely from what they already know, but perhaps have not fully absorbed. This inversion of archival storytelling, where past and present serve to illustrate the future, represents a significant evolution in his creative approach. His cinematic language has become more ambitious, less interested in biography and more engaged with sociopolitical structures that transcend individuals.

Audiences across regions have reacted differently. In Spain, the climate sequences echoed recent floods in Valencia. In the United States, political threads took center stage. The film’s resonance depends on the viewer’s context, yet its construction demands a universal reckoning.

Asif Kapadia’s 2073 is not simply a film to watch. It is a film to confront — one that uses the tools of journalism, fiction, and personal memory to challenge the boundaries of what documentary cinema can be.