Jean Cocteau, 1930, short work, not really narrative cinema
a film about dimensions; start off with only two
characters nailed to backdrops with front-lighting, no depth, very narrow spaces
artist as voyeur to larger world, but in the artist's world only 2D can reflect 2D
then we move to the greater depth with the children
the tension is now between the depths of the various levels, which struggle to interact
but chopping the different locales up, but connecting with eyeline, this is strongly evoked
throughout, have the editing tricks where things pop into view; as though from one dimension to another
artist is rather trapped in between; at once in both and neither
we find hints of the otherwordly in each individual; strong use of the crosses by the gables
and it is the blood (of the poet...) which seeps through from level to level
an inventive work, beautiful in its own way.
Strongly related to the surrealists, but with a personal sensibility and more concern for the individual artist
curious and luciously constructed as well
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