German director Jens Schanze has tackled the issues of the development of technology, energy consumption, extraction of natural resources and their impact on the environment in several documentaries so far, not least in 2015’s La Buena Vida. These stories can hardly be told without a political angle, and in his latest film, Materia Prima, which has just world-premiered in the F:ACT Award competition at CPH:DOX, this aspect is a key one within a multi-perspective narrative.

Lithium mining is an economic and environmental question: the material is used for electric cars and smartphone batteries, but even though there are more efficient methods being developed which will render it obsolete within about 30 years, tech and mining companies are looking to cash in on the current demand. Extracting it is very harmful to the environment, so EU countries have decided against mining it at home. But they have no problem with doing it in “third countries”, and in this case, it’s Bolivia, one of the most resource-rich nations in the world, despite it having been exploited since the 17th century.

The Cerro Rico mountain, above Potosí, is reputed to have single-handedly financed the Spanish Empire with its reserves of silver and is still being mined despite it literally crumbling. In 1615, indigenous author Felipe Guamán Poma de Ayala completed a chronicle consisting of more than 1,000 pages in the form of a letter to King Philip III of Spain. A female voice-over reads excerpts from it in Schanze’s film, creating an obvious bridge between colonial times and modern extractivism.

EU officials and companies swarm Bolivia, claiming that they are bringing jobs and prosperity. The local governments help them peddle their lie, as they themselves benefit from foreign investments. But just like in the 17th century, the indigenous population will not see a dime, only a ruination of natural resources, especially of the vast salt flats that contain the most lithium – and which are key for the whole ecosystem, as locals grow quinoa and raise llamas there.

Since Schanze doesn’t credit the protagonists in the film, we are not always clear about who is an EU official and who is a representative of a company. But that is exactly the point: the blurrier the extraction structure is, the harder it is to pinpoint the culprits. Bolivia’s constitution protects natural resources and indigenous populations, but the government opens its doors, while locals – interestingly, mostly led by women – protest and warn of the dangers.

The protagonists include a lawyer educating and supporting the protesters, a young miner (the only male among them), a llama shepherd and a mine guard, in addition to the Europeans. Schanze’s access to the latter makes for the most interesting and enraging parts. What the film really succeeds in is presenting the issue as a vicious circle, consisting of imbalanced trade-offs within the economy, while the indigenous peoples’ rights and environment are relegated to the background. Europe will build its “green energy” on the back of less-developed countries, just like the way it built its wealth during colonial times.

Lensed by Börres Weiffenbach, the film is often visually stunning thanks to the natural beauty of Bolivia, and composer Atena Eshtiaghi only needs to add subtle atmospheric signifiers to contrast said beauty with the gravity of the situation. It’s editor Ulrike Tortora who has, along with the director, created a balanced and legible picture of the obscure economic and political set-up, and the straightforward comments of locals, displaying gentleness and common sense, serve as an effective counterpoint to this.

Materia Prima was co-produced by Germany’s Mascha Film and Filmtank, while Taskovski Films has the international rights.