When at its most moody and transportive, hovering along that fine-line between reality, fiction and long-lost memories, Tabu has a power to stir us in a way many films can only dream of. From its opening moments, our director Miguel Gomes forms a unique bond with the material, able to quickly attach us to characters and spaces and subsequently leave them without ever returning. To go on about its emotive power, its effortless blending of scenes and moments that hit deep, would be doing the material a severe disservice, this is a film that needs to be sunk into to truly grasp at. For every moment of loneliness and angst there exists a counter-balance of elation and fulfillment, this is a tale of bonds between us, of the obligations that result, and the traces of guilt left behind when we follow our own way. We don't know the weight our actions carry, we don't know how much our presence means to others, and we don't know how much a catchy pop song can become deeply felt when heard at the right place and time. Tabu is a film that hides its complexities within its own simplicity and plainness, true the script is poetic, but its refusal to wear its deep ideals on its sleeve make it all the more appealing. The attachments we make can mean a great deal to ourselves and the one we attach to, and we can never truly know how much, nor can we know how much or how little we may be haunted by an incorrect choice.