The son of Galician immigrants, Paris-born director Oliver Laxe returns to ancestral land for his lethargic third feature. This was shot on 16-millimeter by Mauro Herce, who also shot Laxe’s Mimosas (2016); the results are similarly ravishing, but the film is so enveloped in its aesthetic splendor that not much else resonates. The story centers on Amador (Amador Arias, a non-professional actor like the rest of the cast) after he’s released from prison for serving two years for arson. He goes back to his mother’s home in a small Galician village, where the diffident ex-con helps her with the cattle and attempts, ever minutely, to reintegrate himself back into daily life. One stunning scene finds Amador and the local vet, whom he possibly has romantic feelings toward, riding in her truck and listening to Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne,” the song as out of place but still as beautifully fitting as Cohen’s songs were in Robert Altman’s McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971). After Amador realizes the vet’s been told about his past infraction, things take a turn. Another mountain catches fire, and the events add a meager sense of drama to the otherwise slight proceedings, as the townspeople (and, by extension, the viewers) wonder if it was Amador who started it. To Laxe’s credit, this development isn’t wrought for suspense, but rather for a straightforward examination of the villagers’ lingering hostility. Amador’s plight—experienced also by his mother, Benedicta (Benedicta Sánchez)—is heartbreaking; both their faces tell a story, even as the film itself holds back. Ultimately, it feels as if the title is a broken promise. Fire does come, yet the film is never aflame with much more than the beauty of the Galician mountainsides and the inferno that engulfs them. In Spanish and Galician with subtitles.