The Vertical Gaze: The Metaphysics of the Feline in "Vague Void"

By Richard Caeiro

Scene from the film "Vague Void".

There are fragments of time that our Western logic, guided by a limited rationality, cannot capture. "Vague Void", by British director Rob Winward, operates precisely within these cracks. Through a VHS aesthetic that erodes the world's clarity, Rob Winward doesn't just film cats in a backyard; he films the essence of mystery. The film invites us into a sensory state where curiosity and instinct cease to be "irrationality" and become a superior form of presence.

Scene from the film "Vague Void".

As we surrender to the grainy images and stealthy movements, we are forced to question the sovereignty of the human gaze. We often label animals as beings devoid of reason, but "Vague Void" suggests the opposite: what if they are rational within a reality that we simply lack the capacity to access? The encounter here is not an imitation of nature, but a zone of proximity that pulls us from our center and forces us to inhabit a new territory. The director revives the atavistic fascination that the Egyptians held for these beings, positioning the cat not as a domestic animal, but as a sentinel between worlds. These silent watchers seem to understand subtle shifts in the universe that we, distracted by the noise of civilization, completely ignore.

Poster "Vague Void".

This perception inhabits a time that is not chronological, but a continuous flow of intensity and alertness. The camera, by fragmenting the feline body—an ear, the glint of an eye, the tensing of a muscle—places the viewer on a thin line between parallel realities. There is a certain ontological superiority emanating from the screen; the feeling that cats know something we have forgotten, or that they are trying to warn us about what hides in the "vague void" of the title.

Rob Winward reveals himself as an explorer of atmospheres of isolation, using sensory tension to prove that reality is multiple. "Vague Void" is a reminder that to see what cats see, we must first accept our own blindness to the invisible. It is an invitation to abandon the pedestal of anthropocentrism and dive into the abyss of a gaze that observes us long before we are able to return the encounter.