Die Marquise von O.

1976, Eric Rohmer
This quick paced narrative again uses off-screen dialogue and isolated framings. It is structured around a central mystery, which certainly gets one engaged. There are, when necessary, a few memory, if deliberately not too overbearing or striking shots.
Rohmer is able to tease out something beyond the kneejerk reaction to a situation; again, the audience thinks. This is cinema of quality, but the undercurrents and intentions are far from intended to pacify. It reminds one of a slightly more relaxed Kammerspiel; with a touch of alienation; asking one to go back over one’s own life. Rohmer does not deal in huge works, but ones that examine what they do with such skill as to implicitly effect everything else.

L’Amour l’Apres-Midi

Eric Rohmer, the sixth of his moral tales, 1972
Rohmer here uses the voiceover, and the study of the male protagonist. It is quite literary, and is very much narrative based. It flies along with its story using Rohmer’s usual fade-ins and outs. The dream sequence is charming; a real entry into a character’s monologue.
The camera generally alights on lone figures, framing them off centre is there is something else to investigate. Rohmer also is happy to shoot one scene from different angles, either taking us by surprise or letting us adopt a new view. This comes together in that, by separating characters so often, when they come together there is real tension.
The script and narrative here are wonderful, with great dramatic irony within the tale. It is genuinely intelligent; the characters have depth, change, and one is able to encounter them as real people. Small actions, small manipulations, become important, as the bourgeois faced crumbles. Little seemingly superfluous parts, a phone call ended, a little manipulation, sketch a world in detail far beyond the dreams of most fillmakers.
This is a film that in its content genuinely asks the audience to consider and think. It is a fable, but there is no pedagogy here; just an intelligent, layered, exploration (which of course needs some evaluation) of a situation. And well-filmed too; Rohmer takes care over his shots. A fine work.

Le Signe du Lion

Key early new wave film, 1962, the first feature by Eric Rohmer
Opens with following individual characters, but not connecting them. Medium shots, with a few reframings, though quite still much of the time. The willingness to cut between shows an isolation. This pattern is then suddenly brought to shock the audience by a totally new angle on the same scene; often a heroic framing (though no heroes). Also note the eyeline matches, with some beautiful, classic new-wave fast film and dark exteriors, shots of the Paris skyline. This section is playful (Godard features), fun, slightly scattered, and introducing characters with appetites and a certain pathetic undertone.
The camera is extremely free when moved outside. The public are clearly watching the camera. Rohmer uses dialogue scenes with a mixture of largely twos here, though a few singles. Largely doesn’t opt for straightforward shot-reverse. Often one character continues talking even when off screen (as in ‘Ma Nuit Chez Maud’).
This clearly turns into a neorealist film, with minimal dialogue, indeed to an extent it is a social problem film. There are obvious echoes of De Sica. Many fixed camera shots where he comes into frame, then walks out. The music throughout is used as counterpoint, not for sentimentality. There is a real focus here on the small humiliations, the small details. It takes time over his predicament, making it a worthy document.
Due to the plot machinations the sting of the social critique us largely taken out, with it turning into a Michel Simon (‘Boudu’) impersonation. Perhaps this film is better read as not about the homeless at all. It is certainly a smart posing of moral questions. Of the hubris behind actions, of ways of coping.
This film is extremely pleasurable, in its bear-like central character, and air of ease and playfulness across the mis-en-scene. And, as said, poses interesting moral questions, even with its slightly questionable penultimate twist. It would be fair to say this deserves the name of a classic; a classic exemplar of the style that still stands as great cinema.

Restrepo

Recent documentary, embedded footage and interviews, from Tim Hetherington and Sebastian Junger
This film is a mixture of shaky handehld stuff, much of it quite heavily edited, and interview footage. Both look quite similar; the interviews are very close to the fact, harsh lit, tight on. The footage from the field is pretty quickly edited, often exposing revealing little moments, and necessarilly fragmented.
The false solution in this situation would be to try to impose a narrative on events, with clear peaks and trough designed to enable the viewer an emotional catharsis. This isn't completely avoided, and it would be difficult to avoid; there is a certain amount of sentimentality. Saying that, the film most of the time achieves a sense of chaos that is surely more appropriate.
There is no voiceover, or self-conscious narration, which mark this out as very much a piece of reportage. Actions are certainly left to speak for themselves, with little editorial comment. This film will always have the difficulty of very much, obviously, showing one side of the conflict. This isn't so much dealt with as in the film as necessarilly by the spectator. The film is able to show scenes of the soldiers in a certainly negative light; in fact, one could ask oneself, even at the conclusion, whether it would be fair to say one 'liked' them.
The opposition becomes a kind of ghost figure, never seen. A more complete picture would obviosuly have spent more time, perhaps one could say shown more interest, in the civilians. But that isn't a criticism; this film is what it is, a verite piece of reportage, rather than analysis, of one particular way of going about things. This means it is not so much illuminating as a document to be studied, for the viewer to reflect upon. And as far as it is that, it is first rate.

Histoire de Marie et Julien

2003, Jacques Rivette, going ever so slightly batty
Within the more recent from Rivette’s styles, this employs faster cuts. The camera is constantly moving, almost without exception, in a comfortable, smooth, rich way, reframing and swallowing up more and more the emotions. The colours, in keeping with the tone, are relatively low key. Perhaps the key stylistic point is that this film, more than any others of Rivette’s use, with its two shots, track ins that almost verge on close ups. Not only of the face, but of other parts of the body.
This is a slower film, with a tension and sadness permeating each scene. Nothing is quite resolved, quite together, nothing is really going anywhere; there is a sense that there is something terrible around the corner, perhaps heightened by the slightly ‘off’ feeling of the characters. They don’t quite come together as they usually do for Rivette; perhaps partly down to a lack of empathy, there is a certain degree of reticence (perhaps partly because they know more than we do, a rare tactic with Rivette).
This film is, frankly, pretty obtuse in its subject matter, veering to sentimentality, but not quite allowing itself to go there. Its very nearly complete nonsense, but the tone isn’t quite right for that. There are moments when the air of sadness is able to come through. Rivette can still put a scene well, and there are lovely motifs of the cat, the contingency on the fateful march, among the clocks. It is difficult to know entirely what to make of this; lacking any kind of wryness or a light touch, it seems as frankly an experiment that the kitchen sink has been thrown at, and it successful in fits. Pretty watchable, but a bit awkward.

Va Savoir

2001 film by Jacques Rivette
Rivette happily skips through his scenes in his kind of styleless late style. Still with long takes and scenes, usually getting both sides of the discourse in at once. Often with backgrounds that recede far into the distance. Not fussy, but discrete and often bright backgrounds. The camera floats around, reframing, keeping itself quiet. The multiple strands are here edited very much to play off each other, often surprising in the edit when the door opens to reveal we have returned to one arc.
This film again explores notions of the stage, life as the theatrical production emphasised by Balibar’s soliloquies that are effectively to an audience. The coincidences that crop up, the farce-like nature at times, again gives the impression of the stage. While never explicitly over-dramatic, there is a great lightness of touch, little moments here and there of things a little-to-the-side and so on, that kept the slightly wry atmosphere running through.
This film is really a great pleasure, even a joy to watch. What Rivette does is lavish a great attention on his cast. It is a marvel that he manages to avoid the building up of these characters from falling into tedium, yet it is always sweet and interesting, as though they step into the film fully performed. Perhaps as Rivette has them immediately performing actions, not explaining themselves, just slipping into that gently lapping frame.
For its affection and, yes, love, this film avoids sentimentality due to its ability to not quite let things come together, realising things aren’t quite right, holding us deliberately from melodrama. This obviously isn’t the most cutting or in some ways innovative of Rivette’s works, but it is more than just a picture of certain kinds of people. It is a daydream tempered by reality, as though one invents the story as one goes along. An excellent addition to the late Rivette’s catalogue, and a fine film on its own.

Secret Defense

1997, Jacques Rivette
Rivette’s style is noticeable in this film more for what it doesn’t do than what it does. He is now willing to use a lot more shot-reverse, and even on occasion to keep the camera still for long periods. The colour contrast is, as in much of later Rivette, rather low, presumably quite a slow film stock. The longer takes are perhaps less obvious than before. This film suffers from scenes of a static nature that are in-Rivette like. It still rolls along nicely, with some excellent touches such as the fade-out in the second to last shot, but is generally shot in a simple rather than exciting manner.
This film probably has more thematically common than ‘Paris Nous Appartient’ than any other Rivette film we have come across. The idea is in the lone female, whose subjectivity we are with, who is not exactly wholly endorsed, making her way through a world of tricks, lies and deceit. There are some striking images here, from the lab scenes, a kind of background glee in that weirdness; to the laboratory-factory we glimpse only once, an idea of a large conspiracy, somewhere. The scenes with the sunglasses also have this element of human lurking in them, which works very nicely.
This isn’t Rivette’s best work; the narrative does not manage to quite carry the film, and is perhaps a little one-dimensional. Rivette is still able to save it from catastrophe but making each scene and shot well-made, put together, with something to see, each character still entering and leaving with a kind of truth lacking in all but the finest filmmakers. These qualities are here; but this isn’t the best example of them.

Haut Bas Fragile

1994, Jacques Rivette
This is one of Rivette’s modern day films, that are of a kind popular in recent French cinema. It would be easy to be boring, and most filmmakers are with such realist material, but Rivette’s mastery of the mis-en-scene avoids this. One simply does not know what will happen next; not in a suspenseful way, but in the way that is like life, constant change. The characters are constantly moving in the shot, and one has a real sense of the hors-champ as they come in and out, acting and moving. This is enhanced by the fluid camerawork, which doesn’t fix position. Notice in this film also the juxtapositions of cold and warm colours.
Perhaps the most surprising elements of this film are how it seems to momentarily come outside outside in the musical interludes. These are, like the film references that threaten to overwhelm moments when one slightly wonders what is going on. The decidedly realist and odten low-key settings are suddenly transferred into a gangster’s den or the set of a musical, surprising one. This does add a poetry to the lives. One wouldn’t endorse it without reservation, but it certainly does break the film up nicely at times, allowing reflection.
This film is explicitly about fragility, males projecting fragility (perhaps their own) onto women, how that plays out. The strands are nicely balanced, even if perhaps the most interesting of the three leads has the least screen time (this may not be unconnected). This is another foray into lives that start off separate, come together, and sprawl into many different corners. One wouldn’t mistake this film for a masterpiece, but Rivette is able to always create scenes that hold one’s attention, and characters one is more than happy to spend time with.

Le Belle Noiseuse

Jacques Rivette’s own, full length, version of his 1990 work
Rivette’s mis-en-scene becomes increasingly stripped down, in the sense of becoming less noticeable. This is the case with the editing and the long takes particularly. We also have, early on, a proliferation of long shots, not painting-like as further away, which establish a kind of distant-tableau like effect. Saying this, there is still the noticeable elegant tracks of the camera as we refrain, and also used for dramatic effect to heighten particular moments (tracking into our model). The editing is used smartly, to refuse to let us see what is being drawn, thus making it more of a juxtaposition when we cut from the model to the paper.
This film, despite its length, manages to stay continue to intrigue, indeed not overstay its welcome. The ending could easily not come when it does. This is largely established through impressice performances; Rivette is an actor’s director. The organisation is at once not banal but relaxed. The emotions never reach too much of a pitch, but are not noticeable in their absence. The film rather manages to build up intrigue by simply staying with the characters for a long period, in the long takes. Early on, if we watch closely, we learn much from small reactions (who stands up at the table, who drinks what, and so on). As the action zeroes in on our two leads, they already hold our interest to the extent that we are happy to stay with them.
The scenes of the drawing are fascinating on their own, and the time given to them allows genuine contemplation. From their context, after what we have seen, there is also a tension and an investment in them that is well kept up. The changes that occur do not seem forced, but almost come as a shock when realised, as we have entered into the rhythm. The other leads have their own spheres to (surely a Hitchcock reference with the taxonomy) that prevents these sections labouring.
This film starts off with moves around the subject of stealing, of the figurative violence of representing another. We move through various stages of the artistic dialectic, asking ourself; is art enough? Rivette has here made a film in a quite traditional manner, this does not have the narrative or structural experimentation he can do. What this film does do is display a mastery of a certain kind of film form (it is quite remarkable how such a long run time never seems to drag), which may have its own weaknesses, that Rivette inherits. If one is going to make a film like that, this is though surely how to do it.

La Bande Des Quatre

1988, directed by Jacques Rivette
It would be fair to say this is one of Rivette’s less, in so far as photography, formally distinctive works. There is as usual the long takes, shots, and tracks, but a noticeable amount of a more traditional kind of editing, with even a decent amount of shot-reverse work. There is, perhaps because of this, more medium shots, often in Rivette’s diagonal style patterns. This can create more of a sense of claustrophobia in its way. Distinctive in this film are the takes, at night, from the metro. These are haunting, filled with tremors and lights. Though few, they bring elements together into a kind of sociological framework.
Rivette again works with primary colours as almost all his work does; big blocks, originally influenced by Hollywood (Minnelli, Taschlin). This is a way of marking out characters, but in this film does not (like it often does, even for Rivette) distance the audience. Here it rather works to emphasise, even simplify, the mis-en-scene.
The plot is Rivette like at first glance; women in a house, even with tensions and structures of domination under the surface, and idyll broken by outsiders. Each has their own stories, their own history. There is a real depth in the extent and screen time given to each; different scenes frame as the centre different leads. This style of various strands, some consequential and some not, with the seeming ‘master’ strand being a strange, paranoid amalgam, is Rivettte like. This film though is less playful, perhaps more ‘naturalist’ than other of Rivette’s works. The characters are slightly more serious, more concerned (as is the direction) with their own problems and issues. This film is at its best when it does get down to some mucking around; the ‘court’ and the keys.
There is an element of ‘Big Brother’ about this, of the actors as rats trapped inside, fighting for their lives. The use of the stage is further developed by Rivette, here suggesting at once a place for release and a manipulation, as though they find difficult to escape being watched, even if all the spectators have left. The panoptical society.
This film is then more ‘gritty’, more concerned with psychology and less playful than other of Rivette’s works. It is also, in our judgement, frankly a little less successful, though that doesn’t mean Rivette should not at least be applauded for changing the element of his highly successful formula around (you can’t make a great film over and over again without diminishing returns). A little disappointing, but still full of interesting human detail.

Hurlevent

Pretty straight down the line adaption of ‘Wuthering Heights’, 1984, directed by Jacques Rivette
This has elements of Rivette’s style in it. The slow pans across, and the tracks. The long takes, here taken from an even longer distance than usual much of the time. This schema is sometimes in depth, sometimes less so, and editing back and forths come in rarely. When they do, it is usually a sign that we have a scene of specific effectual power. Also notice Rivette’s match on action, but with a slight ellipsis, as the scenes move from room to room, which is a tendency of his. This film has none of his style to a degree as prominent as in other of his works.
The long takes are part of this films overall incredible calm, neutral manner. This can make the love story seem a little underpowered. Nearly reducing to just telling each other (i.e. the audience) how strong their love is (not that this might not be the case with the book). This has the effect of though showing the moments of violence with a certain detachment, making us focus on the interior of the character’s subjectivities. It seems almost entirely shot in the golden hour, in a quite barren landscape. The colour contrasts are low, and generally the whole thing is not so much flat as all on a plane. There are nice changes to this as the film goes on, the new house becomes sickly green and a little psychotic, too much make-up is worn.
The entrance of the music at special moments of import is very Bressonian; as are a few of the scenes of suffering depicted.
This film does have a certain power; largely from the source material, partly from Rivette streamlining it to the extent that it certainly doesn’t become fussy or convoluted. The suggestions of insiders/ outsiders, and class politics, are certainly not entreated much more than they are in the novel. What we have in the end is a perfectly serviceable adaption, shot in a nice rather than brilliant manner, with some scenes (near the end) with some emotional depth.

L’Amour Par Terre

Jacques Rivette, 1983
This film does use some of Rivette’s marks; there are track-ins, it is generally shot quite long. Especially near the beginning, there is some virtuoso, almost Renoir-ish elegance in the sliding around locations. Throughout, going through doors and entrances. This film is more likely to cut around though, and follow the performances rather than vice versa.
The plot is another work of Rivette’s own. The shaggy dog story structure, with surrealist elements around the sides. At any one point, a plot strand is being ‘advanced’, and usually quite briskly. By ‘strand’ can mean anything there; an action, or a conversation, moving in a direction. By ‘advanced’, we mean is continuing on its own path, almost autonomous from all others logically. The connection is the location, the characters (who shift identities, thematically if not literally) and the mood. Rivette’s storytelling method still remains difficult to explain; whatever it is, it somehow creates a cinema different from classic methods, but that retains a grip on one that is beyond either the classical method or the more art-cinema techniques. The closest to say would be that it makes you focus on the very exactness of what is happening; there is no such thing as time (This method is not so prominent in ‘La Religieuse. The highest implementation of it we have seen is ‘Celine and Julie vont le batteau’).
For the thematics, it would be easy to wheel out the proverbs. There are obvious themes of feminine companionship, manipulation, pure fun outside of ‘normal time’. There are also, in the theatrical elements, questions of who is fooling who. Rivette remains the higher water mark for the usually tired question of ‘fiction vs reality’. It is one dream world. Again here, the colours, bright and abstract, matchnign clothes, are important. Some also rather funny moments, likely involved in the clear improvisation.
This film has a lot in common with ‘Celine and Julie’, so comparisons are inevitable, though completely unfair, one cannot be expected to match that masterpiece. Perhaps this is slightly more contrived, a little less able to reach the imaginative depths there. Yet there is still a feeling of pleasure, of a psyche out of reach, but all within a deeply immanent context. Elements of the female double act, the nightclub, the country house, the repeated performance, all follow.
Another fine, fine film from Rivette, different from ‘La Religieuse’, similar to ‘Celine and Julie’. He creates his own cinema; this is important.

La Religieuse

Very good feature by Jacques Rivette, 1967
The film centres on Anna Karina (very impressive, fine range), often starting quite far out and slowly tracking in. The camera then follows around, reframing, sometimes moving out again. Despite this in-out technique, Rivette’s themes of surveillance and paranoia still clear in that we can be surprised by something just outside that we had missed earlier.
Rivette’s frequent use on this film is of a diagonal, with a near pole (not always in a focus) and a far that stretches quite a way into the distance. This is mixed in with more theatrical framings of characters at the same depth, very frequently plan americaine. The diagonal framing has Karina in the lead at the start, as she becomes unhinged pushes her back, as she flies around the set. There are some remarkable dynamic movements as she throws herself at the camera.
Rivette generally balances his shots, in quite an interesting way; the opposite pole of the lead (rarely centered) is counterposed by not another person but by a collection, or even an inanimate object. This either sets the human aspect off, or keeps the eye moving from one to the other. Sometimes the balance is also increased, or subsumed, by the colours, as in the blood-red of the men’s chambers or the stifling greys that the nuns of the first convent sink into.
Rivette;s lighting is often not noticeable, not on occasion he deliberately leaves only one element illuminated, not as a spotlight but more as a wider, ‘searchlight’. Also colour schemes of red and blue we have once or twice.
The film deploys longish takes, but there are exceptions. As her mental health fractures so does the editing, with more cutting around. Editing is usually a cut-in to heighten the action. The early scenes are also put together in such a way that we have a sense of everything going from room to room, nothing in between. There are some more ‘showy’ (read: good) features. Rivette often cuts to a frame or two of black. He also employs elliptical cuts, almost non-continuity, which can give a slight sense of shock, an effective device. On a few occasions he has extremely fast cuts in, less than a second, before moving back. This (used as the start of ‘Paris Nous Appartient’ also) is extremely effective both in power and in effect; a similar quality to the heart-stopping moments of Truffaut’s freeze-frames.
With no undiegetic music, sound is again a feature Rivette does not centre here. Nevertheless, there are a few Bressonish touches, the clattering bells, clock, and at once point an almost undiegetic wind come in to showing, without telling. The one non-diegetic sound is Rivette’s trademark music, a few notes, of that dissonance and intrigue. Almost from a spy film, or a thriller.
This story is smart enough not to make itself too Manichean. Clear themes of oppression could lead to anti-feminist responses, but Rivette does well to burrow down, over the course of the narrative, and indicate wider struggles. Comparable to Godard’s theses on the impossibility of women’s roles.
The last five mintues of this film are quite remarkable. Pure narrative, cutting across long periods of time, compressing so much and saying so much. That is pure narrative. Rivette has throughout weaved us a story with complexities and threads, we follow along, and this is stripped down at the end. We have the pure thesis of the film, which would be glib, but works so effectively from all that has come before, for an ending that could have been melodramatic, but instead proves powerful and unsettling. A smart, well made film.

Quei loro Incontri

2005 adaption of five dialogues, from Cesare Pavese. Straub-Huillet.
Set in that forest idyll, with conversations about the mortals down below. Simple establishing shot, only two or three camera positions for each scene. Occasions where the speakers are obscured, focus on the voices.
Key Straub-Huillet motifs; overexposed sky, earth as key feature, low key by lyrical voices. One difficult thing about Straub-Huillet it there insistence on seemingly removing all contingency. The dead still actors, the clear and persistent (never slipping) exact voices that are clearly reading out lines. Can give the impression of a closed universe. The insistence perhaps is a tool to make us see that, in this world, the people are necessary, but nature is contingent. Small flutters, long shots, often pans, of the greenery they are among.
Emphasised by the motorcycle at the end marking such a change. As is the line between heaven and earth. This is quite a ‘typical’ Straub-Huillet picture, if stripped down to bare degress.

Il Viandante / L’Arrotino / Umiliati / Une Visite au Louvre

Some short Straub-Huillet works
Il Viandante(5’, 2001); an alternate look at a part of ‘Sicilia’, perhaps left out for its more straightforward didactic quality. Interesting to again see the long gaps. Also note the extra use of close-up (for them) on the old woman.
L’Arrotino (7’, 2001); another scene cut form ‘Sicilia’. Similar, shows the sheer detail in their working out of the dialogue. Assymetrical framing to, oddly for them, draw attention.
Umiliati (34’, 2002); Vittorini novel adaption (of parts). Various discussions back and forth about property relations, in the Straub-Huillet forest-idyll. Notable for the opening few shots of walking towards then out of, then repeated. Also the almost portrait-like tableau of the pan-like fighters draped among the rocks.
Une Visite au Louvre (44’, 2003); more from Gasquet’s, ‘Cezanne’. A look, with the stern voiceover, at some artistic treasures. Juxtaposed in interesting manners, this is about the timing of how they move from one to the other. Also not perhaps unexpected framing decisions. Add to the artworks by indiciating what is above or below them. Decenter them. Perhaps to make it more like the experience in the gallery. Tough to argue they believe they are so to speak using a distraction technique.

Sicilia!

Excellent Straub-Huillet adaption, in 1998, of dialogues from a novel by d’Elio Vittorini
Opens with harsh contrasting, almost late-Godard like silhouette framing, and nice simple dialogue. Again use of shot-reverse of a kind, here and throughout, to isolate.
Repeat of this shot on the train, then move to something Straub-Huillet frankly hardly ever do; getting quite close on the face. Work with shadows and sharp light to create quite an effect. This film is, in a way, a comedy (a little like ‘The Time That Remains’ dialogue?)
The move to the central scene with the mother looks like a classic Straub-Huillet scene. Some overhead shots, flicks of black between cuts. Use of assymetrical framings, and not moving the camera even when a character goes out of shot. Very specific light and dark thrown on the characters.
Again, the closest comparisons are with the wide-angles and high/low angles Orson Welles, and with the enveloping darkness the expressionist set. Some quite dynamic compositions at times. The long dialogue stretches remain, as despite these comparisons it all does, very singular.
Final scene more open, characters again assymetrically framed and caught in the world. Again some humour, and an effective rounding off.
Obviously, for whatever reason, this film is rather... more like other films. It is also rather goo, a short work that has a lot up its sleeve, a visual panache and a masterful control. Excellent.

Von Heute auf Morgen

Straub-Huillet’s film of a staged version of a Schoenberg opera, 1996
However one finds Schoenberg, this is rather good. On a stage setting, so all from one side of the 180 line. A lot of the equivalent of shot/reverse stuff. Straub-Huillet use this to isolate characters from each other. The later reunions have them coming together.
The black and white marks a return to slightly more expressionist sets, note also the sheer bareness of the backdrop. As the very simple colour scheme; the white dress.
The story is completely nuts; pretty deeply morally troubling, one rather wonders what on earth is going on. Still, all in all, quite good fun. Baffling for reasons not so much usually associated with why Straub-Huillet are baffling.

Antigone

Straub-Huillet, made in 1991, of, of course, the Sophocles play, here in Brecht’s version
All in one location; poetic dialogue. Three subject positions firmly kept to. Usually one isolated from the other. A few pans across, to the centre. Complete stillness again focuses on the dialogue. All shot form one side of the 180 line.
Acting less blank than usual, with the poetic language we nearly have something close to classical drama here.
The framings are often far away, classic Straub-Huillet with the overheads. However, there is also uses of more horizontal framings, bringing out the sheer expanses of blueness of the sky. Also, not many other filmmakers do this, and it might sound insignificant, but; one sees the weather change in the middle of a take, i.e. the sun comes out. Just strange to see.
Ultimately, another stern work focussing almost entirely on the dialogue. The very specific positions give a kind of mythic fatefulness, to create still an individual work.

Cezanne / Lothringen!

Two shorter Straub-Huillet works
Cezanne (1989, 48’); Stern evocation, through diaries. Slow, long takes of the landcape. Broken up by harsh voiceover, while the camera looks, not central framing much of the time but clearly making us consider, either photos or the Cezanne work itself. The interesting thing here is perhaps the rather long interlude we have of Renoir’s ‘Madame Bovary’. Really notice the difference; visual storytelling with Renoir. Clearly a contrast to Straub-Huillet’s transferral of information through language.
Lothringen (1994, 21’); Slightly baffling portrayal of a German town. Long, slow, pans, usually keeping outside the town

Amerika (+ En Rachachant)

1983 work based on the Kafka novel. Straub-Huillet
Back to the almost expressionist look of early work. Less focussed on one individual, there is even the hint of an old track-in at once point.
Use of a wide angle that is almost Wellesian, creates a distorted world with the usual StraubHuillet framings. Almost all of their shots stretch deep into the distance, a tendency seen elsewhere in their work.
There is again a lot of dialogue in this adaption, delivered as ever laconically. Use of an incredible stillness of its speakers, as ever. A stasis, a fixed nature of the positions, a not very funny absurdity, fits Kafka’s tone well.
Perhaps closer than ever seen to fitting the manner of Kafka’s work (we look forward to Welles’, who for all his difference in tone is owed much by Straub-Huillet, version of ‘The Trial’)
(1982, 7’); based on a Margaret Duras work. Rather a relief; but back and forth, a well told story. Displays the overhead framings, and a fixed camera position where someone can reframe themselves by moving around, so only there body is in shot. Also assymetrical, sloping tables etc. With a sly sense of humour, this is a small pleasure.

Dalla Nube Alla Resistenze

1978 work from Straub-Huillet, sharply defined into two parts; ancient and modern
The ancient section highlights Straub-Huillet’s attachment to dialogue between two fixed participants, in one location. They are cut around ever so slightly here, often put in unbalanced parts of the frame. There is a complete lack of affection in their delivery.
Two features are noticeable; the switching of the shot to black and the jumping of the image on occasion, and the long pauses at the end of the speaking. These at once mark a time for reflection, and a deliberate banality.
The second half here, in modern times, uses moving shots for two walkers talking. It rather reminds one of some of 80’s Godard.
This film is a tough one; it disconnects itself into chapters almost impossible to put together without very close attention to the dialogue. Straub-Huillet films at this time seem to have the dialogue as king; taking the screen even as black.

Fortini / Cani

1976, Straub-Huillet
This sharply mixes fixed camera dialogue with roving, slow pans and scans across a landscape. These are done with the sky as overexposed, washed out.
Remarkable by their commitment to the words, Straub-Huillet create a particular type of world when they do focus on it; as though not quite in focus, almost.
The words here are exciting, an interesting story told in a variety of manners. This adds up to an engaging work.

Moses Und Aaron

A Schoenberg opera, filmed by Straub-Huillet in 1974
Quite a straight telling. Distincitve high angle and asymmetric shots, but very little cutting or movement. Similar to a staged opera.
Not just diagonal framings here, but often straight-on stuff.
Again, nothing outside the frame as those in it are absorbed. Shich when they jump out of the frame to die.
Again, a performance of a form not usually seen in film. Judged on music more?

History Lessons

Based on a Brecht novel, Straub-Huillet 1972
Huge back of head, alienating shots. Presumably unstaged traffic hold ups. Makeus repeat the banality of the life. Draw us away from the dialogue. Conflict of the two types of shots.
Dialogue spoken to no one in particular. Zero outside of the frame. Clear backdrops. Almost a simple chronicle.
The ‘why’? Rather stands for this film. Seen as a protest, really.

Chronik der Anna Magdalena Bach

Straub- Huillet, 1967, like nothing else seen
Literally her chronicle; and the huge musical takes, completed by the virtuous who are not so much actors as musicians. Opening shot of stunning performance, ‘shock-pan’ to see not alone.
This marks the key motif of the film; the absorption in the individual act. Frequent use of shots of the back of heads, barely ever see the performers. Forced to focus on the music. But in a kind of human (inhuman?) reality.
Supreme focus in Straub-Huillet mean never anything outside the frame. This is despite the diagonal framings in this work. And how characters are sunk into framing, as crystal intensities, framed as just part of a larger whole.
Smooth pans in and out on occasion. Laconic, almost Bressonian under-acting when necessary. The voiceover is quite astonishing; the mentions of the dead children, broken lives, in this world of the obsession of the artist. Quiet, but clearly political.
A one-off for its huge Back performances. For music lovers, for film lovers, for both. Though film in a new way. What is film? Documenting another artform? Does it add anything? It must, it’s seen here...

Machorka- Muff / Nicht Versohnt / Introduction to Schoenberg’s ;Music to Accompany A Scene for a film’

Various shorter, early works from Daniele Huillet and Jean-Marie Straub: Straub-Hullet
Machorka- Muff (1962, 17’); Boll novel. Terrific. Use of high and low angles. High contrast. Razor sharp. Fast montage once or twice. Smooth moves in and out on longer scenes. Always exciting camerawork. Darting about locations. Doesn’t follow action; things happen offscreen.
Nicht Versohnt (1964-1965, ’50); Boll novel. More laconic than before, but similar. Depth of sharp focus. Direct political ‘message’/ show of reality. Similar formally to above. Exciting oans. Use of frequent asymmetric framings. Both of the above exploit an effective voiceover.
Introduction to Schoenberg’s ‘Music to Accompany A Scene for a film’ (1972, ’16); repetition enhances, the use of deliberately grainy work. Bores the message of the work into you. Dissolution at the end. Asking to concentrate

Chats Perches

2004 documentary from Chris Marker, rather good at times.
This is a picture of the city, but mixed in with politics in an excellent manner. By highlighting through the use of T.V. clips etc the dislocation, gives a different kind of reality to both sides.
The whole film is shot on digital video in a make-do manner, but serves well. A keenness to zoom in and out on the cats invite us to play a fun game of finding them. This whole film is surprisingly playful, with a lightness of touch as we come to realise that the cat comes to signify a certain idea of liberty.
This is ultimately a light piece, chronicling the experience of the political action against the everyday reality, which is shot with such little artifice as to become again fascinating. This isn’t more than a little bit if (though engaged) fun, but it holds the attention.

Sans Soleil

Chris Marker, again with others’, meditation on memory, travel, and other deals, from 1983
This is a difficult film; at once simple, with your footage and the meandering voiceover, but it builds up to create an effect that is not quite the sum of its parts
Marker’s footage is again far from continual, snatches of often objects, handhelds. Rarely holds the camera on anyone for any period of time, so we never really enter someone else’s narrative journey. Constant series of looks, glances, small moments, at angles picture of them moving.
The willingness on occasions to jump locations adds to the sense of dislocation. This is a journey we are very much being taken on. The letters build up for times into quite a coherent study of life in Tokyo, but always a personal element. The film manages to convey in a fine manner the non-understandable totality of the vast city, the small gestures. A mood, not a place.
The voiceover gives us whispers and glimpses, occasionally a little bathetic, always thoughtful on occasion nearly profound. The film is at its best when it manages to create its own stream of memory in the viewer; we remember images we saw earlier, replay them, glances from out of context. Put together in this playful style (the sequence where commuter’s dreams are imagined) creates quite a tableau.
The coming together with the images from the computer, the ‘zone’, creates a liquid universe that is perhaps more common now, though less so in ’83. Again, nicely stops us getting too comfortable.
Altogether, we a have a piece that is frankly rather difficult, but its richness and willingness to always consider the image in new ways leads to some arresting sequences.

The Cook The Thief His Wife & Her Lover

Peter Greenaway, a British artist of the cinema, release from 1989
The tableaus that strongly match the traditions of classical, most obviously Flemish, large scale portraiture. The long smooth sideways pans, constantly reframing a new picture of this kind. The camera is kept at a waist level to create this look, as few floors or ceilings are seen. This reduces depth (as do the colour schemes of each scene), though the lens is reasonably deep; or rather, the lens is perhaps not too wide, but the focus often pulling deeper than the action gives a sense of depth even as the figures are flattened, a seeming contradiction.
The lighting schemes and staging further the relation to fine arts. Often we have a clothesline staging, though saying that there are some framings where actors' back are to us (reminiscent of various last supper pictures). The lighting is deliberately theatrical, with depth at once alluded to and killed, as though from the sides of a prosenium arch. The smoke acts as a reflector for outside, indoors we often have individual, non natural, gaudily coloured spots. These can indicate faces, but often draw the attention away. This means that the whole frame is activated, as our eyes are not exclusively centred, always (quite often, to be fair, it is) in the centre of the picture.
The film employs so many framings that alude to the history of visual art. It creates in this sense a classic mis-en-scene, but almost taken to its logical extremes, so a sort of Bazinian world in fact becomes hugely unnatural. It lets us at once recognise the beauty, the artificiality, of that Rubens etc world. Yet set off against this is the earthiness of the content. the lacivious theme that runs to the food and the sex, creates a Passolini like disjuntion between the form and the content. The question is; is the food/ sex at once complicit in the evil we have portrayed, or is it another world, a better, richer world? Such simple dichotomies are surely rather reductive.
This film uses a large number of, related but not explicitly Brechtian, alienation techniques. The break up of the song numbers, the framings, conversations about film, various artificialities, all draw us away from the picture. This is often a matter of timing; some element intruding on the other, just as sentimentality threatened. This lets us take a critical distance to the pictoral aspects, asks us to question our relation, even our complicity (as the diners) in the search for the beautiful picture (see Greenaway's 'Nightwatching', and other pictures we anticipate. The songs that break in are the most obvious to draw us out.
The score by Michael Nyman is on its own melacnholic, intensely sweet while wistful. Oddly similar to Nyman 'Man With A Movie Camera Score', but much slower, and crossed with Miles Davis. It constantly threatens to sentimentalise. Overall though, it generally succeeds in always setting off, rather than acting to exaggerate, the 'romance'. It gives them a grandeur we know they don't have. It rather acts as a 'could be'. This is similar to the score (as are some lighting patterns and colour scheming) to 'In The Mood For Love'. The beauty of the romance lies not in it itself, but in our setting off from it, distance from it.
We can see that Greenaway incorporates elements of the opera (songs), as well as other music forms, theatrical looks that take their lead, shockingly so for a film, from traditions of fine art. His long framings of a long duration, with analytical cut ins to show faces more clearly, are peculairaly cinematic.
Greenway is no classical storyteller, and his scenes work on their own, in an almost fable like manner (note the intertitles). The relation to a morality play, or a Jacobean revenge tragedy, is clear. This is further enhanced by people being known by their job title.
The vengance plot, with the destruction of various world, marks the break up of the more classical mis-en-scene and a move to more modern, less lateral, and deeper, portraiture (and the location of these scenes moved from the restraurant to the bookshop; by the end, the restaurant loses its place as a place of light portraiture).
The morality of this film is difficult (not on a shocking level), in the sense that there is the risk of sentimentalising the wife and the lover. They recognise this. The valorization of Intellectual culture (French) could paint the wife and her lover as too 'good', failing to recognise how they, to, have little to talk about. Greenaway does not seem to be entirely in either direction; this deserves more thought than can be given here.
Greenaway frankly puts 99% of the British cinema to shame. A formally ambitious, and crucially, thoughtful. In this deeply rich film every shot, every movement and action, has been thought, thought, and thought again. Their is not a hint of laziness, but a genuine questioning of why anything is used, what it is used for, what it means. His mis-en-scene is beautiful, his themes worth thinking about, his art something that stands alone, to be engaged with. The work of a master.

Le Fond De L’Air Est Rouge

Comprehensive two-part documentary (‘Les Mains Fragiles’ and Les Mains Coupees, themselves split into two parts) chronicling 1967-1977, using footage put together by Chris Marker in 1977.
This documentary is pretty straightly done; it is reportage, footage, analysis to an extent. Quickly moves between stories and milleus. Constant comment on the action by Marker and a variety of other voices.
Generally a focus on objects, on things; books and marching, on actions rather than dwelling on people. Sometimes look more at a microphone than a talker. This does well to avoid turning it into a romantic story; keeps a nice distance.
Apart from the Vietnam section, does not try to produce shocking images, rather leaves us with a well rounded picture of its particular milieu.
Stays very close to the (broadly) communist activities of these years, focussing (often quite tightly) on the mechanics of the French movement, which means there isn’t much of a wider analysis, but one can’t do everything. The second half offers perhaps a more critical approach, with analysis of internal splits, than the cataloguing of tenuously linked events in the first.
There are a few moments when Marker’s aesthetic sensibilities shine through; the Chinese ballet, for example.
This documentary has more to do with how one reacts to the content; whatever it turns out as for the viewer, it is a comprehensive document of what it looks at, conjuring up a world that could be otherwise forgotten. This world can only be so shown with a strong presence at the centre; this is the maker himself. An assuredly made, thorough history.

La Sixieme Face Du Pentagone / A Bientot J’Espere / Puisqu’on vous dit que c’est possible / L’Ambassade / 2084

Collection of short films which involved Chris Marker, largely working with and in collective groups (slightly unfair to single out Marker) from the late60’s/ early 70’s (with ‘2084’ from later). Again, difficult to do more than cursorily describe; it’s in the content, and is strictly demarked from traditional film aesthetics.
La Sixieme Face Du Pentagone (Documentary, 27’, w/ Francois Reichenbach, 1967); Washington Demonstration. Marker not afraid to mark his evaluative content. Deliberately presents it his way, overriding the speeches. Interests in those outside of the ‘movement’; Nazis and police. Verite at street level, but with a a hint of playfulness
A Bientot J’Espere (Documentary, w/ Mario Marret, 45’, 1967); French unionists. Again, awareness of self, though always off camera. Longer interviews, stiller camera. Focus on the unsaid, what is outside, on occasion, breaks up classic realist. Use of stills, often very fast, here and elsewhere. Used to start and end. Film clearly committed, conscious raising. Powerful.
Puisqu’on vous dit que c’est possible (Documentary, edited by Marker from others’ footage, 43’, 1973); more fragmented, with some visual tricks (intertitles for names, move from shooting T.V. to direct footage. Very much part of the action. Almost otherworldly with switches from types of film. Less unified, for obvious reasons.
L’Ambassade (’22, 1975); An embarrassing confession, we thought it was real. It came across as absolutely stunning, which was a little naive. It is incredibly powerful, with such a quiet air to it, great tension created by the almost blank style of footage grasped. We see Marker operates with quite fast cuts, obviously nearly entirely handheld, pan and scan, hazy racking in scene, etc. Also complete disjunction of sound and image, with narration (i- for cost? ii- control over material, distancing technique). Within this, there is a piece that genuinely makes one’s brain fire over the issues confronted. Remarkable short segment of the silent political debate. All so underplayed. Marker does though succeed in always achieving a remarkable contrasting aesthetic, from the sheer back-to-basics of his approach.
2084 (10’, 1984); quite a straightforward message, mediated through a questioning rather than prescriptive focus on technology. Very simple.

La Jetee

Truly remarkable short made by Chris Marker in 1962
Frankly, it’s very difficult to talk about; montage of stills (one exception), with a narrated narrative
Black and white photos display large grains, with depth, angular framing, and are generally quite low contrast.
The montage of them takes us to the heart of cinema; generally fast movement, almost again pure narrative, with great emphasis on the timing; a few milliseconds more on one, then on another, repetition
Use of the narration as ascribing a story; are we reading too much into images, because of the sound? What does the image tell us? And the sound? The whispering....
Story of the return to memory; at once a chance of emancipation, and a repression. The wish to reneter the past, the personal and the political in that. We see how death is the unhealthy obsession, while at once that return is the only way to live, in this society...
Quite, quite remarkable. Like nothing else. Comparison is futile, but really; how much cinema can even come close?

La Graine et le Mulet (Couscous)

Abdellatif Kechiche’s very ambitious, and perhaps successful, prizewinner of 2007
Little to say really about the technical side; uses handheld, huge amount of jerking, flying about, pretty quick cuts. Basically, pan and scan, wouln’t be surprised if some scenes had multiple camera set-ups. Does use the long take to bring out performances that are both well underplayed, and capable of frightening intensity, in the realist vein.
This isn’t a do-down; there is, in some thoughtful framings and rythms, clearly some thought and use in the camera. It does its job here.
The film sets us with multiple narratives, but not cutting too quickly between; giving time for each not so much to evolve, as to be made apparent, to work themselves out in the emotions of the characters. Nice style of not sticking too much to one character (though there are leads), even moving to have individual long scenes of bit-part players.
Nice narrative drive throughout, making one concentrate on what is in front of you.
The world we enter could have got too comfortable; and has that side to it to; the celebration of traditional values, and of food. Yet this film is good enough not to give easy answers; suffering is there, perhaps it is the dominant theme, and there isn’t any way around it. We don’t just mean the casual racism the family suffers; but the tortures, the pettiness that event hose we have come to understand inflict on each other.
This piles up in a horrible incident with an hour to go. The viewer is, frankly, put in their powerlessness through a kind of agony. It is debatable whether this is necessary. The argument that it is would be on the ability to achieve a kind of absolution in the ‘poor meal’. Not a tying up; but a qualitative change in how the viewer reads the situation.
The end does well not to tie up/ work itself out too much, though could probably have done without the last couple of shots. Overall, though, the essence of the interlinking characters, power relations, wishes and people come together in incredible powerful tableaus. An excellent piece of work that sets itself a huge task; to explore an extended family and, through it, an experience of living in their (various generation immigrant status clearly being a motif) culture. It manages, while remaining an excellent experience to simply watch, to take us to this place with real richness.

Persepolis

Popular Iranian animated picture, personal and political; Marjane Satrapi's story, with a co-direction credit to Vincent Paronnaud. 2007.
The animation is simple, with expressionist touches. Use of either white surfaces outside, with almost expressionist touches around the corners. Conveys the mood very well; world changes as the action does. Simpler drawings for clear scenes, twisted trees for hardship, use of shadows, etc.
Constantly moving ‘camera’, constant fades from one scene to the next, frequent montage work. Fast changing of images fits with the speedy narrative. Some wonderful touches as one images transforms into the next. The constant movement does mean that nothing is dwelled upon.
This is both a positive and a negative feature; the cuts to sillouhette for some of the toughest scenes, their quick departure, signals this as a work that is ultimately about one person’s experience.
Nearer the start it is a terrific run through of Iranian history (nicely played out as almost a play within the film), before becoming increasingly a personal story, an interior one. Leaves some questions to be asked. It would be grating and cruel to demand more, but their are certainly other films here (note the almost shot to shot short musical montage debt to the great ‘Waltz with Bashir, a deeper journey).
This is very much narrative, without much character study beyond the lead. The images are also used (in an excellent manner), though some undoubtedly stay with you. A good film, even better than that at its start.

The Hours Of The Day

Really liked this film; directed by Jaime Rosales, released in 2003
The opening shot sets the whole thing up. A wonderfully still face, one can’t take the eyes off. Down to the physical features, and the quality of the acting. Throughout, the actors do an excellent, excellent job. Very relaxed, with realism but no emotions shewn whatsoever (or at least minimal). The characters are constantly doing something else from what the subject is, constantly distracted. Cooking, working, even looking out the window. Captured in everyday life. Even when they are not moving, there’s no ‘stand and deliver’ here.
From the opening shot that fascinates, the film basically plays out as banal conversations, with two incidents, filmed in a blank manner, standing out. The shot/reverse schema seems to isolate the two halfves of the conversation, showing the neutral boredom of how they communicate. The barrage of this neutrality comes to seem almost threatening; as what is the everyday is twisted is they come to control each other, demand from each other.
The other framing is the long shot (this film has hardly any medium shots; generally either profile or at least plan americain), which, except for a little panning, remains still. Similar to a number of recent films, it works to enhance a mundane coldness. Again marks out neutrality, but is not formalistic due to its place as one of many, rather than the sole shot. This film is really a focus on the content far more than the form; but that doesn’t mean form is ignored.
It basically does come down to the acting, that keeps us riveted, and a smart script which is at once useless and contains in it the hints of all we need. The opening shot, again, draws us into a space where the lead intrigues; evil? To be pitied? Trying to be good (the ritualistic aspect, the victims are those who, like him, can’t survive and are being ‘delivered’... or is it just opportunism?). Subtly the domination of society, a conformity among the seeming multitudes; in contrast to ‘The Bothersome Man’, gains so much richness but having this among a world of interiors, quite gloomy apartments, and quite clean shops.
The shots, stills, in and out, at the first and last at once place it in a larger milleu, and recognise how we have been drawn so far in. Among the banalities, the non-sequiters, the calm meals and conversations where even the emotional pitches seem flat, we have an extremely strong picture of a world of distractions, restlessness, alienation, distance, hope, violence, flesh. A fine film.

The Bothersome Man

This dinky little picture, with a bit of imagination, is by Jens Lien, made in 2006
Razor sharp images, very very deep focus; a singular and visually interesting look. Tough to know exactly how it is achieved. Backlighting certainly, use of stunning clowd formations where light is reflected both from the front and the back.
This is not a film staged in depth though; all is generally on the same level, the light is incredibly even with the grey colour schemes as a key part of the thematic. The chest height camera throughout also destroys all overlapping, which would cause depth. A visual style that shows a certain thought, slightly comical and precocious, but a good feature overall.
The themes are clear enough, and interesting, but a braver filmmaker would have perhaps taken on the harder task of not positing an imaginary world to explore them. It is fun enough in this new world, but perhaps makes the thematic a little easy, a little cursory, a little fast.
The story is well and briskly told, with pretty standard editing (slightly longer takes would be nice), in very much an exploration of one person; much close work (perception shots) in and around their face.
This film is like a slightly less extreme Jeunet and Caro picture (an excellent guide for the filmmaker), or a slightly less self-important Kauffman one. It is fun at times, with an interesting visual aesthetic, and if not exactly revolutionary ideas, a nice exploration, without going over the top, of genial themes.

Princess Mononoke

Hayao Miyazaki’s enduringly popular 1997 animation
Analysing an animated films visuals always slightly uncomfortablw; pretending its about shots, we can say we have simple, often vertical movements, with a lot of still takes, except for fast horizontal following ones.
Edited in a very much classic action/ Hollywood manner. Indeed, this is really a narrative driven action-adventure picture, very much in the Hollywood tradition. Though the shots are often longer, a lot of fast back and forwards, changing the angle, a bit of shot/ reverse work. Better directed and edited than the rather repetitious (for all its other qualities) ‘Spirited Away’.
Generally it does not focus on characterisation, everything is narrative-driven, the breaks-off are largely for comic relief. This can make much of what it does slightly jarring, quickly moving from premise to conclusion.
What it does is follow a narrative structure on one or more step; one more step. One of the fun things about Miyazaki’s worlds is his constantly ad-hoc adding of something, always taking something a bit further, always extending to the next phase. This keeps us involved because he doesn’t dwell, doesn’t every dwell on the sheer weirdness of it; it is all very matter of fact.
His creations are largely either completely unknowable or anthropomorphic. Individual scenes are beautiful in the same way a (perhaps slight) drawing is. It is of course impressive, and touching, with the flowers that grow and the walking on water. These are not so much experienced as depicted, so they don’t have a huge force, but are welcome and delicately beautiful in their insertion in the narrative.
Looking at the plot, it tries to strike a middle point. Humans are bad (there is a rather worrying equation of working women with this domination), but nature too is irrational and nasty. The attempt to find a middle way rather deconstructs itself; it is unsuccessful ,everything goes wrong, even if the narrative seems to decide at the ridiculous end that everything is fine. Usual Hollywood attempt to patch things up, forgetting about the debris of destruction it has left behind. Note also the pacifist hero of course really only doing the business when he temporarily forgets things and gets the swords out.
The theme of a primeval nature dominating, human dominating, and the lack of solution to this, is at least an interesting path, even if Miyazaki notably fails to make an intelligent comment on it. This film is certainly fun to watch, and he creates a nicely hyper-real world (or rather, ad hoc bits tacked together; one doesn’t get the sense of much outside of the frame) with a narrative that takes itself always a step further. If he doesn’t great cinematic images, he is led to create quite new ones in his meldings of non-human liquid forces, that does result in a genuinely different cinema and, for short periods, image production.
This is when Miyazaki is at his best; when almost forced to make new things with his images because of his remorseless narrative logic. This only happens for short periods, but it ultimately makes this film at least perhaps his most worthwhile. These aren’t masterpieces, but neither are they null.

Roads To Koktobel

At times rather good, overall rather uneven, 2003 picture from Boris Khlebnikov and Aleksei Popogrebsky
use of a variety of styles; handheld shuffling, static plan-americain long takes, comic small characters in an absurdist vein; it generally sticks to these three, and each is fine on their own, but it would be hard to say they gel
for example, the Renoir-influenced long takes of two or three (deepish focus) are fine, nice humanist cinema, but the lack of camera movement and the rather square mis en scene mean that there isn't much outside the camera; making the next cut a little surprising, unnecessarilly
there is also a bit of shot/reverse stuff, which is rather a non-sequiter
this film also jumpds about in tone, with absurdist elements mixed with a realist bent, and then attempts at pictorialism
the brooding will never work; it's far too light
the narrative, as far as their is one, again has an episodic feel, which isn't a problem in itself, but does exacerbate the overall jumpiness
each scene in this is (usually) interestingly shot, adding something new, and perfectly impressive on its own. Without being able to really connect though, and with no thematic or narrative to cut through it, the entire film appears a little slight

4

Curious and at times very impressive film, directed by Ilya Khrjanovsky, made in 2005
Would be pushing it to say there was a coherent style, but the general idea is that early on we have more static takes, or rather the camera does have, but in slow, at times almost non-perceptible movements. Throughout the film there are very long takes. As we come to focus on the story of the village, the camerawork goes handheld and frankly chaotic, though it keeps the long takes. Their is usually quite a bit of depth, but the later handheld calls for racking focus.
There is nearly always something of visual interest here. Pretty Manichean lighting schemes, and rare for there to be straightforward symmetrical framing. The long take at the bar has a powerful foreground with the characters and drinks adopting balances further back. This is one example of how this isn’t a film primarily about characters; it involves those square pegs trying to fit into the round holes of an existence.
This film lacks any kind of traditional narrative, and switches between supremely long scenes, cutting between our characters from that, before focusing in (with occasional breaks) on one. The story indeed builds a mood, and does move, but generally feels almost associational in so far as content is concerned.
This, combined with the focus on barren landscapes, makes one reach for the Russian t-word; Tarkovsky. This film does deal with metaphysical categories, with the character of the people, and with identity. Also shares a camera separated from narrative or content, that roams and dwells, that sculpts the space and time of the reality. But this film is more in the psychological realist vane, really, for all its formal characteristics. Less dwelling than Tarkvosky, or for that manner Sokurov.
We have the theme of 4’s, with one perhaps dead or asleep. Issues of balancing approached. Perhaps the greatest exploration is of clones/ doubles/ transfers. Almost a kind of revolting lack of self. Characters, images, and even shots (elliptical sequences) structured in fours.
There is surely a streak of social comment, with the younger generation almost unable to live with the idiocies and the nihilism of that older. Some terrific images created through this. The realm of drinking is where the two sides cross. This isn’t a film structured around opposites; at least, if they are, they more than implicitly bleed into each other.
This film has a terrific, dreamy, limbic quality, perhaps enhanced by its lack of pace and camera that almost seems distracted from any kind of content. The eerily empty streets, among the mists in the early morning. The dolls are used in a way where ‘uncanny’ would be inadequate. Crosses themes of double, (quad laterals), transfers, horror, and identity. Never becomes downright weird, you wouldn’t ever find a reason to laugh, but a kind of ‘inner surrealism’, a swampish aspect. The dogs share this path, but are more direct and open to interpretation. At once friends, they are also violent, the terrors that stalk the reality and the country. Wolves.
This film is difficult, to think about and thematise. There is a huge amount going on, that can be difficult to really assimilate. Perhaps it stays better as a vague, purely visual memory. It can seem to get a little lost in itself, and perhaps it does stick with its village theme/ camerawork, a disproportionate amount. All told, though, this is the kind of thoughtful filmmaking that is worth watching. This is a film that deserves one of the highest praises a piece can get; it deserves the viewers time, to be thought about, to process.

Quest For Fire

Jean-Jacques Annaud’s dialogue free, well, quest for fire, of 8000 years ago. That is the story is 6000BC; the film was made in 1981
Filmed in ‘Scope, it looks much like some ‘Scope films from the sizties; especially early on, it shot with long horizontal compositions, quite a bit of depth. Bit of panning around, though in these moments we generally we have distinctively wide shots. Away from this, for the action sequences we have cuts for tension/ emphasis, much more quickly done, with a bit of movement.
The lack of dialogue is really only discernible from the way it’s directed, with little shot/reverse stuff, only a few occasions of that, and a need to keep moving the positions around. The audience is in a position detached from the character’s experience, due to cross-cutting, moving away from what they can see (note to the shots with animals).
This film has elements of the Western and the Road movie; in fact it moves by a set-up, climax structure like a lot of mainstream film making. It would be difficult to say this applied at all to what it’s depicting.
This is a film of cavemen with us clearly in mind; with some exceptions, it is too neutral to be a phenomenological account, as we are directed towards what is strange/ different/ exciting. As these are emphasised, it rather takes away from all the other efforts at authenticity (such as the teeth; presuming that they really were that good).
If the film had though wanted to be a pure ethnographic/ educational study, it should just have been a documentary, which would have taken away the ‘dress up’ aspect. This is really an impossible film to make; perhaps the only way would have been to apply it directly to the modern day, losing ‘authenticity’.
The emphasis on things like the sex is slightly troubling; if it was actually felt like that, then why can’t we just be told so? This isn’t a building of their worldview. Yet if it wasn’t, the film becomes ridiculous, and importing our norms on them, making it a traditional and rather baffling picture (this is the case with the love-story; it is wholly ridiculous).
This is by no means a film that is entirely bad; it has aspects of the ‘what it is like’, is perfectly decent to sit through with an engaging enough plot (as thought these were enough). The images created are not without merit. But neither does it really do anything that well, not ethnography, doesn’t really apply to then, or now.
This film, in a way not meant to be overtly critical, is neither here nor there.

Burnt by the Sun

Story crossing a personal tale with the Stalinist show trials; directed and starring Nikita Milhalkov, in 1994
The direction employs a variety of middle of the road-ish techniques on a slightly overexposed film. Clearly an invisible style working with continuity, and the tradition of the bigger European productions, it has longer takes of people sitting around tables with lots of singles throughout, and a fair amount of shot-reverse.
The more distinctive techniques are a tendency to put characters forward in the frame (mild fish-eye), a penchant for extra long takes. The more interesting techniques, perhaps a little underused, are occasional loitering of the camera when the action has gone, and some pan and crane work that has a certain panache (such shots seem to often acts as marks of flair in many visually mainstream and otherwise indistinctive efforts). Indicates a narrative not quite connected to the characters, at a distance (with the critical faculties that implies).
All told, there is more than a whiff of the well-made film about this; would be fair to say it belongs squarely within the tradition of quality, in the historical film that examines political humanism. Some rather sickly family / bourgeois / humanist nostalgia, in certain scenes, as we see in some of the more expensive pieces of the French cinema.
The slightly detached attitude though isn’t a necessary part of this, so that is a little more interesting. Manages to pretty much not tell us the story throughout, clearly deliberately, though does at one point give in and resort to basically explaining the story in a rather strained device. Saying that, in this very scene there’s a nice alienating device of hiding the speaker.
There are some interesting things going on in this film. When the situation is realised as all rather nastier than it looked, a certain frisson is gained. The use of Stalin in interesting, this film is at its best when it is more on the side of ambivalence than predictability in its analysis of the period.
A really interesting story, subject, and time. Filmed in an adequate for explanation, if, with some qualifications, slightly disappointingly conservative style. Not bad, not more than a weak ‘good’.

Klass

Pretty dodgy movie, directed in 2007 by one Ilmar Raag with a pretty shocking last 15 mintues....
The style has nothing of any interest; rapid cutting from any and every angle, racking focus and pan and scan, no tripods in sight, annoying, disorientating, and showing no skill whatsoever. The less said about the stylised montage the better.
This, combined with a pretty straightforward (and utterly nonsensical; holes everywhere, making it quite funny) narrative make the whole think come on like a life skills video. Just to emphasise, the plot is really all over the place. Rationality does not seem to exist in this strange world.
The acting is also terrible, themes are flagged up with the subtlety of a bulldozer, before hastily being forgotten again.
Then we have one pretty shocking scene; out of place, but then again what is being ‘dealt with’ is pretty nasty. An undeserved moment, but it does add to the grimness already depicted, without adding anything to it.
Then the frankly bizarre situation when we’re on the side of the school shooters. This is stylised in a morally troubling way, as, frankly is the whole set up. If it was possible to take it seriously, would be pretty hugely worrying. Yes, we’ve seen what happened is horrible, but this film is just unrelenting bleakness, with a pretty uncontrolled ending.
It certainly gets more watchable, but generally this film is pretty boring. The end is interesting, which redeems it slightly, but perhaps interesting for the wrong reasons. Film is largely a write off.

Frau Im Mond (Woman In The Moon)

Fritz Lang goes on an epic voyage to the moon, in his final silent picture from 1929
We have the bare walls, the expressive shadows and acting, the figures of spies, melodrama, that we have all see in Lang before, especially late-silent Lang
This adopts much longer takes than ‘Spione’, and more complex images, though without the differences n texture and cognitive interest of a ‘Mabuse’ or ‘Siegfried’; the images do have some in them, but can seem quite bare at times. Strange art in the background, as though explosions took over. Something slightly ascetic about the backdrops, even as they are given more time here
The shots are generally medium, and there is more interest in depth and horizontal framing in them than Lang on more commercial form. Less dynamic images; a bit assymetrical, heads not exactly centered, but less tightly framed (especially vertically) and less coiled, tight springs curled to burst across the image, than usual. Relatively sober and neautral. Often uses straight-to-camera angles, which frees up his next shot. Happy to break the 180-rule, but it’s not like there’s a lot of shot-reverse here. As mentioned, longer takes.
Lang’s narrative construction is entirely different from usual; long scenes in one locale, with rather a lot of talking. Perhaps only really 5 or 6 locales in the whole film. Back stories branch off from this, before returning.
Plot isn’t actually all that complicated; the addition of the spies can seem a little half-hearted, the basic idea seems to be that they’re going to the moon for the hell of it. This fits in with the theme of over-stretching themselves; no one really present very attractively, all in their own little worlds, pushing too far, hurting each other
The effects are impressive not just for the time, but retain more than sentimental value for today; not overdone, not overdramatic, but nice and efficient. And the science manages to not appear silly, impressive for a space travel film from the 1920s. Adds a layer of calm, a kind of resignation to the piece.
We have our themes of being forced to do what one doesn’t, but all characters here seem destined to follow their own paths. Themes of disguise are treated almost offhandedly, as to be expected, as not too strange. No real grandeur here. Just obsessions of science, of the women, in filmmaking. Quite self-referential, Lang even acknowledging dept to comic/ Feuilletons in own work.
Ultimately, this is a resigned and perhaps even nihilistic work, without the bite, the sharp despair of ‘Spione’. From the start, in the classic Langian intrigue, an air of fatalism rather than action hangs over. Can appear beautful in only the most detached, intellectual way.
This isn’t Lang’s best lot of images; less striking and complex, or narrative. However, it does retain moments of great beauty, and the overall mood remains a kind of wonder; not so much at the idea of moon travel, but at Lang’s masterful creative capacities, bringing the lovers to the moon, tearing them apart. A strange, barren landscape (home to the film’s finest images) as the outpost for the alienation and at times coldness of this beautiful, strange vision.

Spiones

Lang’s penultimate silent film, a monstrous twisting thriller; 1928 for U.F.A.
Lang’s symmetrical sets, dynamic images all on display here. Characters using up the whole screen
This is though cut a huge amount faster than the ‘Nibelungen’ (the opening almost absurdly so), and adopts a more narrative based, less psychological drama approach; a number of consequences
Lang’s images are a lot simpler, cutting up scenes into many different parts. Conveys info that can be taken in quickly. Lang often cuts around characters, though rarely shot-reverse; or at least his version of that schema is 180-degree cutting. Frequent use of front-on framing, often a shot-reverse look to it, then surprises by move in to the straight-on. Also a huge use of inserts/ hands/ letters/ guns
Lang has obviously decided to draw on montage work to crack on with the narrative, even using associational montage at times. Similarly, his hooks from sequence to sequence are almost always thematic, drawing a direct (and quiet) relation from one locale to another
As far as the look, this is much less ornate (less classically expressionist) than his early work. The sharp lines, the light walls with lots of blank space, and the geometrical patterns of the office are much more clearly associated with ‘Metropolis’ (love the self-referencing poster, Fritz!)
The film this ultimately shares the most with is Dr Mabuse; this can be seen as a slightly more reigned in, perhaps commercial version of that, not that this isn’t completely nuts. By ‘comercial’ is meant perhaps slightly less depth and, excepting certain sequences, less of a focus on the pictoral aspect (though again, we challenge anyone to find a less than perfect image; they’re just less showy, less contrasting here)
The plot repeats, almost to the scene, a number of things we saw in that film. The technology has developed, but the all seeing eyes remain, the almost nightmarish paranoia. The glimpses of sympathy with Klein-Rogge’s figure of evil, and the utterly baffling endless narrative, narrative, narrative
Also the fast montage, the expressive acting, all here as from the first ‘Mabuse’. This film can nearly be seen as a companion piece to that, a slightly less reflective mood (partly due to the shorter run time, of course), a slight change in visual pattern to blank walls rather than shadows.
Ultimately, the sheer narrative drive takes away most of the humanist aspect from this earlier work. Lang seems on the brink of nihilism with the hellish world he creates, the good things seem to come with at best a raised eye, at worst just testaments to the next terrifying intrigues
The last scene is simply stunning; one of the scariest, most desperate, most extreme, perhaps most daring moments in the silent cinema. It says it all about this film; utterly riveting, an almost blank nihilism, as ever Lang’s array of masterful images.

Der Golem

1920, key and oft cited work of Weimar cinema and German expressionism, credited to (and starring) Paul Wegener
Visually, uses circular expressionist waves and set-design, to create the archaic, mythic world of the 16th century. Note also the sharp contrasts (blinding whites), extensive patterning.
A very ‘vertical’ film, with thin upright (houses, Golem itself), and frequent use of blocks of dark (often in camera) to frame this action in a certain way. The showing of the characters is usually full body, but can be any, no real pattern, except a slight preference for emotions coming closer. These elements of technique are not, perhaps, the main interest of this film
The story fair rips along, with quick takes (even to reframe, seemingly can’t work out matches on action but is all pretty understandable, room to room, inside to outside), and a slightly melodramatic bent. Much closer ‘Caligari’ (similar time period) than the later epics of the U.F.A. greats
Clear thematic parallels, influence on, the Frankenstein story, and much later horror. Two interesting thematic points to pick out here;
The use of the Golem as a machine that fulfils fantasies, but then turns against. The horror of the machine, after its initial usefulness. A key theme of much Weimar cinema. A terror at this lack of ‘naturalness’.
The other element is of the Golem as the double of the others. No character really is subject to identification except, perhaps, the Golem. We recognise the Golem is actually the sublimation of the desires, even the revenge fantasies, of the populace. At once a vassal, but is ultimately neutred and destroyed when it tries to reach outside the Ghetto.
This is at once a critique of the Jewish community (which is stereotypically portrayed in an offensive manner); its insistence on following the mythic, its refusal to recognise its own desires, while it is at once a demonstration of that communities tragedy in the uncomprehending world, shown by the sympathy for the Golem.
Impossible not to view this film in retrospect of its historical antecedents, this is a film that gives witness to a failure, a dream, a wish. Not perhaps a great work of art in its own right, but when placed in context, well worth its place in the history of the mid-period silent cinema.

Die Nibelungen: Kriemhild's Revenge

Lang’s follow up to ‘Siegfried’, again from 1924
Pretty much the same visually to the earlier work; won’t go through that
Except for a few differences; slightly closer work, more singles, and a few P.O.V. shots
This is as the plot moves faster, quicker cuts in slightly simpler images
This accords with the plot and themes being more noticeably Langian; senses of distrust, stupidty, revenge
Demonstration of the myths that power stupidity, the idiocy of the collection of the people
Theme of nature used as contrast, as equally mythical; untamed, Griffithian power of Atilla’s court and set decor
People who take things too far; a sense that all at once should be avenge, and of the infantile lack of justice that this involves. Females often in this double bind. Pathetic power of Atilla shows the destroyed individual.
All are seem to threaten all, and all are (rightfully) suspicious of the other. Backstabbing in this paranoid world.
This film turns into long battle sequenes, with a pretty objective camera, and probably doesn’t display the scope for beauty of ‘Siegfried;, nevermind Lang’s very best work. Still, has its own moments of beauty and intense power

Die Nibelungen: Siegfried

Part one of the epic Fritz Lang Nibelungen double, 1924
Lang creates truly startling images; has he ever created a bad one? They largely remain static. Bright, white of course, is used to pick out key aspects, to keep the eye constantly roving
Complex images are thus created, with heads often very high in the frames. A lesson in studying the full images, how the main ‘point of action’ is often decentered. Usually a lot of information, thrown up in a certain way. Allows for longer takes with no let up of the action
There is also a key use of extremely symmetrical sets here, adding to the expressionist visuals of arrows, oblongs, squares. Lang as a much less jagged, more ‘square’ director than the other expressionists. Uses certain tropes, some shadows and falling light patterns, but not shockingly so. More cubist in a variety of ways
Lang’s brilliance to create complex images, that flash like lightening across every scene is stunning. Use of front and backlighting, these dynamic sides. Often flat images strike us, but not afraid to use depth. Often has characters directly pointing to the camera, or walking towards it
This kind of editing procedure is one example of how this film is not in the tradition of classic continuity. Often breakages of the line. Cuts can cross across geographical space almost arbitrarily. Continuation of a fast story, but this effect of ‘shock’ again makes us look harder, and longer, at the image, as we must decipher the new angle
Saying that, the usual technique remains long shot (adds to the complexity), then cut ins to reveal detail, often with multiple actors in shot. Also the filming of the masses from random overhead, non humanist shots (one of quite a few high angle shots in the film)
The story is a melodrama, with a number of crossing wires; the natural life that is frozen out by the uptight world (costume). One shocking scene of the tree to skull. Dead animals everywhere; petrified nature. Use of harsh shapes recalls Lang’s interest in primitive art; shown here as well. A disgust of nature (the dragon), but it remains to overpower (the knight representing the dragon)
Also the use of doubles and identity; lack of responsibility, others taking on the ‘human’ jobs
One has the feeling that these themes are slightly trapped in a poor plot, that can seem like a bit of an empty container for Lang’s formal, aesthetic, dynamic brilliance. Characters are harsh and geometrical and costume and performance.
But Lang’s technique is in no way cold; his moments of the lingering camera, an occasional coyness (Siegfried behind the rock); touches of nature. Those vast, empty rooms...
Calling Lang a master doesn’t seem like enough. This isn’t his best work (a poor script, slightly cold and formulaic); but it’s still a sensation

Gomorra

2008 movie from Matteo Garrone; a terrific display of modern realism
this movie can be read as concerning oreder out of chaos, and it has the wit to explore this on each of its levels
the highcontrast, extreme low key lighting gives sillouhettes all around, non-human figures sharply dividing the space
this also gives too much deoth; the direction wants to have out of focus to analyse the chaotic locale
thus faces are often taken extremely close to the camera (but never an affective close-up) in a pan-and-scan style that is itself chaotic
the space around the characters is never clear; we are always directed off screen, but are rarely clear exactly where the direction comes from. Spaces are twisty, confusing verticals and horizontals
when a character/ plot believes it has come to find some kind of order (i.e. on the trips abroad), a more perpendicular, stiller, clearer framing is evoked (falls apart, of course)
the story operates with non-identifying snatches of different characters. No identification, so any work of recognition takes time
we realise that this is pure chaos; chaos in the lives, and chaos as we realise there is no connection, no unifying strands to the lives or the narrative; just pointless violence, boredom, and hand-waving
any thematic or narrative unity would be false, untrue to the world
when order has been restored (notice the key scene with the travellers-abroad on the roadside) we then have the shocking turn; the totality itself is disgusting, chaotic, even in its very order
in the scene where the man is held up, his money taken from the table and associates murdered, his trip outside again reveals a new world; simple long shots of a distant motorway reveal a world of violence, disgust, chaos
this film recieves some sickly resonant images; the crashed car, the shootout in the twilight. Never stylised, almost a joke
the formal fragmentation of the narrative reveals that the only way realism, which presumes totality, can be presented is to take on such strongly formal elements; control the content in such a manner
really a lesson in how to conduct more realism; stylistically brave, an outstanding piece of work

Times and Winds

Impressive feature from Reha Erdem, 2006
Uses a great variety of techniques; this does not fall into stylishness, or arbitrariness, because each technique is used to convey the particular required mode of the scene/ shot in question
Editing wise, this means some have faster takes, with cutaways, while exactly the opposite for others
Variety of compositions, long, medium, and close up all used a decent number of times
Rarely ever a fixed camera, often scanning across, especially in the extreme long shots from up high
There are a few recurring motifs; first, the non objective travelling shot. This progressively opens up the space of the life world (as a number of techniques do here), with literal location, and use of repetition
There is also a predeliction of perpendicular framings, especially with the two boys, which opens up slight air of absurdity
Indeed, this film is constantly nearly tipping over into that; use of abovementioned shots, stylised performances of underacting and very deadpan, even knowing delivery
Use of pausing, at times, on a vacated space; white walls
Also repeating motifs across shots
Interesting compostions, often unbalanced, at once pictorial, convey senses of a kind of imbalance. This film is very nearly eerie
Combining this with a few other features, such as the repeated shots of the children lying silent/ asleep/ petrified, and clear treatment of some very expressive images, this film could almost be accused of pictorialism
It isn’t quite that; deliberate beauty isn’t what’s being shown here, rather it is a reality expressed on its own terms, in an angular, sharp manner
And the deep focus lenses used, with a great variety of clear, sharp, and bright colours, quite high contrast, adds to this sense almost of a hyper-world, but presented at the same time with low key deliverance
The sound also deserves a mention; used to contrast with the image, either in overlapping of voice, or ‘unusual’ music, means we consider the image in a different manner (especially note the early sequence of the boy creeping about with the nourish music)
This film doesn’t present clear theses, but it would be fair to say it is about the younger generation’s oppression by the old, and developing ambiguities, differences, and consequences of varied relationships
Interesting narrative structure across separate narrators; no one clear identifying point, nearly every scene is from the camera’s, rather than a character’s, point of view, so to speak
This is a film perhaps easier to (strongly) admire more than love. The underplayed, stylised performances don’t open for identification, and the peripatetic approach to narrative structure and form don’t hotwire us to a director-artist with a blinding message
A film that one can see will have some in raptures; and quite reasonably so. We at times, for all its (undoubted qualities), found it a little bloodless; there is no room for contingency in this picture
For our part, we found it a strong, imaginative, for all its quietness a challenging piece of cinema, with every scene and shot having thought behind it. All qualities the modern cinema has to aspire to, and often does not reach

Arven (Inheritance)

Pretty ropey family saga/ love story from Per Fly, 2003
The style is fussy, with no tripods in sight. Darting around
Constant cutting, in pretty basic continuity style. Usually a master-shot, but there’s a lot of shot/ reverse stuff
Shot in video, which along with the high contrast can’t help but make one think this is really suited to the television (it’s almost like a narrative documentary in its look)
The predictability of its style is matched with the content, to a laughable degree
Can see things coming telegraphed a mile off, all very obvious, as it churns along at quite a decent crack
Very clichéd plot, nothing out of the ordinary, with some pretty dodgy time-shifts
A plot with a lot of wholes in it too
Quite a fun game to play, stretching out these holes and playing ‘guess the next scene/ line / cut’
It is quite laughable, but a little bit endearing as well
Very theatrical, with completely over the top performances, and a lot of plot explaining to each other, in staging that is two dimensional at best (why was this film made?)
But it trops along enthusiastically, and the basic, very Shakespearean story of families and a love story (surely referenced somewhere in the theatre segments) makes it all rather sweet
Complete rubbish, and, ultimately, pretty tiresome, but, if one is in a good mood, can be watched without too much pain

Climates

Nuri Bilge Ceylan (‘Three Monkeys’), 2006
Use of supposed close-up; no real close-up in the film
All shots are perception shots- constantly watching others, axis around a silent figure
Supposed close-ups/ P.O.V. shots reveal themselves not to be so; as other shots segue into closer views (still perceptions shots)
Constant intrusions/ interruptions, by telephone or otherwise
Long takes, with this silent axis builds up the power relations
Frequent use of out of focus plains of depth. Multi-plain staging means that we have characters leering over each other, as well as distance, estrangement
Necessary to do this, to have them in the long static shots together
Use of backlighting, to make the characters stand out, stand apart, from landscape
Clear themes of the pathetic male figure (slightly predictably so at times) who can only cope with a kind of assertion of power over women
Clear case of ennui here
The obvious reference is to Antonioni; their is even a sequence which seems to make a clear reference to ‘L’Eclisse’, and the dedramatized, depth staging, along with the themes of men and women, let us say, not getting along, all point this way
But has much longer takes/ less movement than Antonioni. More of a cold look than Antonioni’s search for some kind of inner truth
Less post-human use of framings/ colour schemas/ pictoral abstraction than Antonioni. The beautiful views could be argued to fall into occasional pictorialism, but there under use rather alienates them, sidestepping that
The better comparison might be to ‘Journey to Italy’, with the long takes and growing resentment (this film mves on from there, but the opening sequence seems clearly referenced)
As is the use of ruins as a theme. Idea of capturing them, when all else is lost, the power of them, and the appeal of the selfish man
This is an above average film, but not in the near perfect territory of those mentioned; a few slip-ups with plot, and it does seem derivative of those works of disconnection/ ennui etc
In a modern idiom of slower camerawork and a more empirical approach than the personal visions, works well on its terms