Three distinct images onscreen form a chorus, each harmonising with the next. Each is exquisitely strange, a charged tableau. These images are alive, ghostly, monumental. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say they are like no others, and yet they are part of a grand continuity with the phantoms of film
history.

Every great film teaches you how to see as if for the first time. Pedro Costa does that in Daughters of Fire in nine minutes.