Showing posts with label films. Show all posts
Showing posts with label films. Show all posts

Friday, 20 March 2009

Broken glass is luxury...


Last night, I watched Vera Chytilová's "Sedmikrásky". I've heard so much about this film before, knowing that this is a classic of the Czech nouvelle vague, and I've been wanting to see it for ages, but it is extremely rare and hard to get hold of, unless you understand the Czech language (an original DVD without subtitels is easily available in the Czech Republic). In fact, it is much easier here to get a 35mm film copy than a DVD, and I'm proud of the cinema I work at, the UT Connewitz, for taking the chance and showing this extremely rare classic. (The bizarre experience of trying to be a normal guest in a cinema I know only too well - including all the little technical problems that can occur in a very old film theatre with very old technical equipment - was also highly interesting. But this is another story worth an entry of its own!)

As for Chytilová's film, I had high expectations, and as I love a couple of films of the French nouvelle vague, I imagined this one as something like a Czech version of Rivette's masterpiece "Celine et Julie vont en bateau" - two girls who need no one but each other and their own imagination to have a whole lot of fun. And yes, indeed, this comparison is quite fitting, though the two protagonists in "Sedmikrásky" even push things a bit further. One could describe it as "Celine and Julie have a real binge", or something like that. The two girls - both named Marie - recognise that the whole world is spoiled and therefore decide to become spoiled as well. They start to live a life in excessive hedonism, they play their games with other people (mainly guys), eat a lot and just have fun, no matter what the consequences are. And it is definitely fun to watch that, though there is a lot more to it: the hedonist surface does reveal a subversive message (the film was forbidden for a year or so under the communist government). At the time of its release, it was unusual enough that girls amused themselves as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Today, this might appear quite normal, but in the pre-sexual-revolution 1960s and under a totalitarian regime, this was a statement in itself. Apart from this, the matter-of-factness in the girls' behaviour of exceeding all boundaries, still bears a subversive, anarchist touch, even in our modern times. Everything is possible - that's probably what Chytilová wants to show us, and in these terms, the film is highly encouraging.


There is much more to discover in the dialogues. For example, when the two Maries go to a little village where the locals don't pay any attention to them, they begin to wonder if they really exist at all, before they discover the mess of leaves and other things they've spread all along the river shores and come to the conclusion that they MUST exist - a conclusion that leads them to an outburst of euphoria. Once can interpret dialogues like that in many ways, including the position of women in society in general: being constantly overlooked or ignored. This, to name just one example... Another thing I definitely have to mention is the visual appeal of this movie. The style is very experimental, with changes in colour, unusual compositions of objects in the picture, fast cuts and the like. A couple of times I asked myself: was this really filmed in 1966? Sometimes it looked a lot like experimental films or video clips from our days, so one could say, Chytilová clearly was ahead of her times aesthetically, having used some techniques long before they were common. I think I still have to reflect over some things for a bit longer, and possibly watch the film again as there are so many little details to discover...

Thursday, 20 November 2008

French Movie Nights

... an opportunity to post this picture I drew, inspired by one of my favourite movies of all time.



Sadly, there is no Rivette shown at this year's Journées du Cinéma Français, but a lot of other interesting stuff, including a couple of classics by Luis Bunuel. So, I guess I'll spend a lot of time in cinemas in the next days.

Thursday, 22 November 2007

Deserto Rosso


A gloomy industrial landscape in grey. Right in the middle, a woman walks along with her little son, both in colourful jackets, green and yellow. Colours that stand out from the background, colours that shine - but the contrast shows the distance between the characters and their surroundings...

Michelangelo Antonioni's first film in technicolor leaves no doubt that the director used the new technical possibilities on purpose - and to a great effect. Throughout the film, the colours play a major role in creating an atmosphere and reflecting the characters' moods. The film's central figure is Giuliana, wife of a factory owner in northern Italy and mother of a little son. Allegedly traumatised after a car crash, she is strangely distant, totally alienated from the outside world and her usual life, controlled by fear. She wants to open up a shop but has no idea what to sell. She seems confused and estranged from her surroundings. Soon she finds herself in an affair with Corrado, her husband's colleague, who gives her all the attention and interest she doesn't get from her husband. Their conversations evolve around her remoteness from the world, and it turns out that there is much more to the "accident" than is apparent at first sight...

What remains is the question whether things could be different in a different place. Corrado's never bound to one place, always on the move. A restless soul who keeps wandering about, always hoping to find what he's missing in his life. Giuliana is more rooted in her place, the thought of leaving, which comes up at some point, remains just a thought, deep inside she probably knows that what troubles her will not simply disappear just by leaving (Besides, leaving what? The town? The country? Life itself?). The tristesse, the undefinable fear is within us, a part of our lives in this world. Giuliana begins to accept that - not coming to terms with it but somehow trying to get on with her life and the neverending struggle against the alienation, the fear, the noises in her head, the hollow emptiness that has taken over her life.

The protagonist's desolation is mirrored perfectly by picture and sound. The grey landscapes and industrial sites - often in blurred vision to emphasise the distance between Giuliana and the world around her - the monotonous hummung of machines that seem like voices in her head. Just by watching, one can feel what she must feel like. At the same time, the perfect
arrangement of colours - with bright, shining colours often contrasting the grey - is highly impressive. A masterpiece both in its content and its visuals.