Movies: The Official "Movie of the Week" Club Thread III
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KallioWeHardlyKnewYe
Hey! We won!
- May 30, 2003
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It was streaming for free via NewAsianTV.com. That's where I watched it.
Pranzo Oltranzista
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Oh well. I hope I see it pop in the "last movie you watched" thread. You guys really are missing out! One of the best films ever made, by the best director of all time (no contest for me, only Renais has done things that come close to what Ruiz did... I'll give Resnais the edge on consistancy only).
Spring in Fialta
A malign star kept him
Wait, sorry guys, why can't we watch Violenza Domestica's movie? I'd love to. I tried Kallio's tip for Dragonfly Eyes but it didn't work for me (the page just kept perpetually loading and I can't find a link to the film anywhere else) but I was looking forward to watching it. I was very busy with a marriage for the last couple of weeks but I'm up for watching, so long as its accessible for me.
Pranzo Oltranzista
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The film was optional because my first choice (Windows on Monday, another gem) wasn't easily available and I felt like my participation here wasn't all that relevant. Still, you really should have a look at the Hypothesis, even if you don't write a word about it.
It's on YouTube with subtitles:
KallioWeHardlyKnewYe
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I watched Hypothesis ... will post a a review in the next day or so hopefully.
The Image Book (2018) Directed by Jean Luc Godard
What is it?
The Image Book relies on a hybrid form of Godard's own making. It is not a fictional work, nor is it a documentary. The best way to describe it is as a visual essay--a rumination and, perhaps, valedictory on the part of Godard about movies and their relationship to history, using thousands of old film clips (most of which he fiddles with in some way) to communicate his ideas and feeling. He first explored this particular form in his brilliant Histoire(s) du Cinema (1988), and he has modified the approach significantly in The Image Book, incorporating commentary (the closest thing we get to an actual story) about an imaginary Gulf state called Dofa and its leader who dreams of power but doesn't have the oil necessary to realize those dreams--a blessing even if he doesn't think so as the lack of resources protect the country from the raptors of capitalism. The rest of the film is more similar to Histoire(s) du Cinema's omnibus approach, except that Godard has incorporated 21st century digital technology to color, distort and wash out much of his footage which he gathers from countless movies, newsreels, documentaries, and written texts. His New Wave cohort Agnes Varda has her own more gentle approach to this sort of personal artistic expression and it is rather pleasant to note that these two great New Wave directors continued to be imaginative and original right to the end of their days.
What is it about?
Everyone will have a different take on this which is, of course, part of the purview of all great art. My take is that The Image Book represents Godard's latest take on the state of humanity in the modern era. The picture he (sometimes literally) paints is bleak as can be but his enthusiasm for the words and images that he uses is full of curiosity and energy and life. To him humankind's worst atrocities have been caught on camera but it has changed nothing. Though he claims to be "on the side of the bomb" in terms of revolution, it is clear that he despairs of any meaningful change. We are a sorry lot, us humans, good thing we create such fascinating images of how bestial we are. His despair serves as a curious counterpoint to his ability to pick out lively, captivating images, almost all which speak for themselves. Anyone who must have spent literally thousands of hour putting this movie together can not be a complete misanthrope. He may not like humans much, but he is fascinated by the art that they create, perhaps the one true saving grace of being alive.
How good is it?
It's great. Much of Godard's late work, which includes some of the best films of his career in my opinion, is damned by some critics as being "abstract." Like they are totally unfamiliar with the art of the last half of the 20th century, or what?. Well, The Image Book isn't that abstract--it is easy enough to grasp that this work surveys the director's view of the world, take it or leave it. Besides, abstract doesn't mean opaque. What better modern commentary do we have on the barbarism and dehumanization of war than Picasso's Guernica and Gorecki's Third Symphony whose very abstraction enhances their power. It is a noble tradition of film to bear witness and that is one of the things Godard is doing in this movie. His use of 21st century technology gives the work a different look than Histoire(s) du Cinema and reminded me how the garish colours of the computer are anything but natural, perhaps a comment on how film can distort reality, especially as in the case of the Arab world where the Western method of dealing with Arabian concerns was to ignore it or to trivialize it, at least before 9/11. However there is nothing the least abstract about Godard's rather poignant conclusion about history and the movies. The final word goes to a lone voice: "We are never sad enough for the world to be better."
subtitles (when Godard is in the mood, which is not always)
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My next pick with be Krzysztof Kieslowski's Three Colors: Blue (1993)
KallioWeHardlyKnewYe
Hey! We won!
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The Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting
Ruiz (1978)
“What did you see? What do you feel?”
Seven paintings stolen. Six recovered. One missing. What connects these seemingly unconnected works of art other than the artist himself? That’s the question. Our guides here, the Sherlock and Watson of this little two-hander of sorts, are the Collector and an unseen Narrator. One is more confident than the other. What is ostensibly a prolonged art lecture of sorts, is given life by film’s rather clever conceit of turning the flat paintings into full depictions of people and space. The Collector doesn’t merely discuss the paintings. He enters them, walks through, comments on aspects, adjusts lighting and positioning. The light from a painting of Diane leads to painting two, where Templar Knights play chess and another clue leads to the third piece. It’s here where the trail goes cold. Painting four is the missing one. Ah ha! But a novel contains the backstory of the painting! Passages are read. So now we have a fictional novel informing a fictional painting inside a fictional movie. It all builds to a conclusion that I genuinely do not want to spoil for those who may circle back to this. All the while the Narrator dips in with commentary and questions. He isn’t convinced.
While it may sound dry or needlessly obtuse, I found it to be a clever and engaging mystery with a fair share of humor. I was most reminded, of all things, of Room 237, the excellent documentary a few years back about the assorted theories around The Shining, which is an increasingly relevant and thoughtful examination of obsessive fandom and analysis (and its perils). Quick aside: One of my more pedantic pet peeves are people who dragged Room 237 because it didn’t provide clear answers to the questions posed, when the whole point of the venture was that there are so many answers. The Shining, the movie, is practically a MacGuffin. Back on track, I was also reminded ever so slightly of Vizzini from The Princess Bride and his complex and ratcheting rationale for which cup contained the iocane powder. The Collector has the same pomposity albeit a much lower key.
“Truly you have a dizzying intellect.”
“Wait til I get going!”
Visually I was quite taken as well. Given that the settings are essentially paintings, it’s pretty easy to draw a line to films like Barry Lyndon or Peter Greenaway’s The Draughtsman’s Contract, which go out of their way to evoke painting on film. I wish I had a more thoughtful parallel, but I don’t.
I admit I leaned on some outside sources after watching the film to try to shed light on some of my questions and one thing I learned was that the stagings are real within the film. I watched it assuming the stagings were in the mind of the Collector, so to speak. I kinda like my way better, the man trying to solve a two-dimensional problem in three-dimensional space, which I guess still holds. I just thought the physical space was a metaphor, not an actual space he was operating in with real people. Such was the spell of this movie though, where I’m inventing angles where none actually exist. Well played, sir.
Ruiz (1978)
“What did you see? What do you feel?”
Seven paintings stolen. Six recovered. One missing. What connects these seemingly unconnected works of art other than the artist himself? That’s the question. Our guides here, the Sherlock and Watson of this little two-hander of sorts, are the Collector and an unseen Narrator. One is more confident than the other. What is ostensibly a prolonged art lecture of sorts, is given life by film’s rather clever conceit of turning the flat paintings into full depictions of people and space. The Collector doesn’t merely discuss the paintings. He enters them, walks through, comments on aspects, adjusts lighting and positioning. The light from a painting of Diane leads to painting two, where Templar Knights play chess and another clue leads to the third piece. It’s here where the trail goes cold. Painting four is the missing one. Ah ha! But a novel contains the backstory of the painting! Passages are read. So now we have a fictional novel informing a fictional painting inside a fictional movie. It all builds to a conclusion that I genuinely do not want to spoil for those who may circle back to this. All the while the Narrator dips in with commentary and questions. He isn’t convinced.
While it may sound dry or needlessly obtuse, I found it to be a clever and engaging mystery with a fair share of humor. I was most reminded, of all things, of Room 237, the excellent documentary a few years back about the assorted theories around The Shining, which is an increasingly relevant and thoughtful examination of obsessive fandom and analysis (and its perils). Quick aside: One of my more pedantic pet peeves are people who dragged Room 237 because it didn’t provide clear answers to the questions posed, when the whole point of the venture was that there are so many answers. The Shining, the movie, is practically a MacGuffin. Back on track, I was also reminded ever so slightly of Vizzini from The Princess Bride and his complex and ratcheting rationale for which cup contained the iocane powder. The Collector has the same pomposity albeit a much lower key.
“Truly you have a dizzying intellect.”
“Wait til I get going!”
Visually I was quite taken as well. Given that the settings are essentially paintings, it’s pretty easy to draw a line to films like Barry Lyndon or Peter Greenaway’s The Draughtsman’s Contract, which go out of their way to evoke painting on film. I wish I had a more thoughtful parallel, but I don’t.
I admit I leaned on some outside sources after watching the film to try to shed light on some of my questions and one thing I learned was that the stagings are real within the film. I watched it assuming the stagings were in the mind of the Collector, so to speak. I kinda like my way better, the man trying to solve a two-dimensional problem in three-dimensional space, which I guess still holds. I just thought the physical space was a metaphor, not an actual space he was operating in with real people. Such was the spell of this movie though, where I’m inventing angles where none actually exist. Well played, sir.
Sure, lets put it back in action. It had been a week with no reviews of it so I thought people were passing on it. So lets just do The Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting, and then The Image Book.
KallioWeHardlyKnewYe
Hey! We won!
- May 30, 2003
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I may need that extra week on The Image Book. Whoever has it from my local library system has been sitting on it for weeks. Grrrrr.
The Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting (1978) Directed by Raul Ruiz
To be read after reading K's review above:
While I am familiar with a few of director Raul Ruiz's later works (Time Regained (a swing and a miss at Proust); The Mysteries of Lisbon (sumptuous and impossibly elegant--I even remember the wall paper); and Night across the Street (a beautifully constructed elegy to life and time), The Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting is the first of his early, shorter works that I have seen. I found it dazzling, a tour de force constructed around a conceit concerning art criticism that turns into a bit of a mystery to be solved. As is true of the other works of the directors that I have seen, visual sophistication seems as natural to Ruiz as breathing. The cinematography is gorgeous and atmospheric and adds a dream-like (with gusts up to nightmarish) quality to the proceedings. I might have taken something from the film that Ruiz didn't intend, but I found the Collector's assorted musings as a kind of comic commentary on the perversely convoluted reasoning of French intellectuals in the post-modern era where the very intricacy of the construction of the argument seems valued over and beyond its actual alleged point. (It also struck me that French just may simply be a superior language to English in enabling the building up of these intellectual edifices and curlicues). I'll definitely seek out more of Ruiz's earlier works. Ruiz may well be the greatest director nobody in North America has ever heard of.
subtitles
Pranzo Oltranzista
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Probably not in my top 5 or 6 Ruiz films, maybe borderline top-10, but still an amazing feat to me. Can't imagine anybody getting a better swing at this "inadaptable" work.
Edit - couldn't resist:
Spring in Fialta
A malign star kept him
Just watched The Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting...I'll post a review tomorrow. I really need to gather my thoughts first.
Spring in Fialta
A malign star kept him
The Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting (1978) - Well, after a night of sleep, I think it'd be difficult for me to deny that the film had a strong effect on me. For the first time I can recall, I dreamed in black and white. Not that my dream had anything to do with the actual film - but what do I know, perhaps The Collector could find a link if he were to take a crack at it - since in mine, it was a world-renowned novelist who was the victim of a stray bullet in some baroque study while laughing at some benign joke, before succumbing to fits of laughter as a thin streak of blood streamed from his mouth. With that said, I find myself quite perplexed by this film (and this is the first time I've watched a Raul Ruiz film. In fact, I didn't know who he was at all.) and I'm not sure I found its resolution very satisfying. Hell, at a certain point, I even found myself thinking that the story and narrative would probably fit better as a novella. And what do you know, 10-15 minutes later The Collector, stuck in a quest for relative truth, pulls out a novel which neatly explains the story behind the 7 paintings and provides some key clues as to their meaning. It didn't feel cheap, but as a viewer, I was at times a bit frustrated by The Collector's deductions and the means at his disposal, such as the advantage of reconstructing real-life paintings, which then allowed him to manipulate the work in ways beyond the average recipient could if only reflecting inside a musueum. In short, for a mystery, I found it mean-spirited that only the writer of the film could possibly make any deductions. Anyone else would have to be a genius of perception. Still, I think it's a film of high worth that stretches the possibilities of cinema (although to me at least, at its peak, it still cannot compete with the novel). The film is a marvel visually, very baroque, not unlike the all-time great Last Year at Marienbad. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the same cinematographer had worked on the film. He certainly has his own distinct style and the flow of the lingering scenes was a joy. I also loved the eerie quality of the film, which was more absorbing and frightful than the horror genre has to offer. I have to tip my hat to a director who can execute such a complex story in 63 minutes. But I still find myself wishing the fragmented conclusions had been a little less...sententious, I guess. I don't think The Collector's delivery helped matters either.
A great pick.
A great pick.
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KallioWeHardlyKnewYe
Hey! We won!
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The Image Book
Godard (2018)
“... And hardly any ears listen anymore.”
Ahhhhh, another visit with that most difficult of professors, M. Godard. Endlessly inventive, clever, angry, more than a little obtuse, especially in these later years. Do I look forward to these intellectual sojourns? Yes and no. Though I have enough evidence to know his brand of creativity isn’t quite my jam, I appreciate the experience and lecture, even if it’s one that I can’t guarantee I’ll revisit. Still, when the master speaks, you should do him the courtesy of listening.
The Image Book has the passing semblance of a plot, conveyed via narration about a fictious Middle Eastern country, poor and without oil. That’s just a thin line on which to hang his art, however. This is an essay and a bit of a lecture, at least the parts where I was able to discern a point. That isn’t a slam. I’m not calling it pointless. Not at all. I just don’t feel like I grasp much of it and am not above admitting my shortcomings.
Godard is angry. That much is clear. It flows like the unconscious. Not a dream, more a nightmare. I think he thinks the world is shit and it’s unlikely to improve. That’s my takeaway. I think I’m maybe ridiing a little easier on him in this is because I probably agree in a lot of ways. You’re catching me on a cynical day, I suppose.
Using an array of images — stuff he shot, still pictures, other films, real life, historic items — Godard assembles the visual landscape. He then promptly runs those through a computer, distorting them, coloring them, converting them. It’s almost an irritant at first, but the repetitive nature lulled me in, to be frank. Images of violence, occasional mundanity, mixed with the occasional recognizable shot. Jaws jumps from the water. Ralph Meeker stumbles down a beach as a house goes nuclear behind him. Mere hints at the monstosities in Salo (that’s how you know he’s real angry). Armies going to war. In quite the extraordinary and odd personal occurrence I have been making my way through Sergei Bondarchuk’s mammoth War and Peace. I just happened to watch part II last night, clips from which made for about a 1 minute stretch early in the film. Run through the Godard-o-matic, of course.
There’s an aural component too. It’s an equally chopped collage of snippets of music, bits of dialogue and sounds. The music comes and goes at it pleases. The narration comes and goes as it pleases. Even the subtitles come and go as they please.
I hate to be so trite, but it looked good on my TV and sometimes, that’s half the battle. The rich orange beaches with electric-blue waves lapping at the shores, in particular stick with me. As does a scene of women clad in red in an impossibly green pool.
Godard (2018)
“... And hardly any ears listen anymore.”
Ahhhhh, another visit with that most difficult of professors, M. Godard. Endlessly inventive, clever, angry, more than a little obtuse, especially in these later years. Do I look forward to these intellectual sojourns? Yes and no. Though I have enough evidence to know his brand of creativity isn’t quite my jam, I appreciate the experience and lecture, even if it’s one that I can’t guarantee I’ll revisit. Still, when the master speaks, you should do him the courtesy of listening.
The Image Book has the passing semblance of a plot, conveyed via narration about a fictious Middle Eastern country, poor and without oil. That’s just a thin line on which to hang his art, however. This is an essay and a bit of a lecture, at least the parts where I was able to discern a point. That isn’t a slam. I’m not calling it pointless. Not at all. I just don’t feel like I grasp much of it and am not above admitting my shortcomings.
Godard is angry. That much is clear. It flows like the unconscious. Not a dream, more a nightmare. I think he thinks the world is shit and it’s unlikely to improve. That’s my takeaway. I think I’m maybe ridiing a little easier on him in this is because I probably agree in a lot of ways. You’re catching me on a cynical day, I suppose.
Using an array of images — stuff he shot, still pictures, other films, real life, historic items — Godard assembles the visual landscape. He then promptly runs those through a computer, distorting them, coloring them, converting them. It’s almost an irritant at first, but the repetitive nature lulled me in, to be frank. Images of violence, occasional mundanity, mixed with the occasional recognizable shot. Jaws jumps from the water. Ralph Meeker stumbles down a beach as a house goes nuclear behind him. Mere hints at the monstosities in Salo (that’s how you know he’s real angry). Armies going to war. In quite the extraordinary and odd personal occurrence I have been making my way through Sergei Bondarchuk’s mammoth War and Peace. I just happened to watch part II last night, clips from which made for about a 1 minute stretch early in the film. Run through the Godard-o-matic, of course.
There’s an aural component too. It’s an equally chopped collage of snippets of music, bits of dialogue and sounds. The music comes and goes at it pleases. The narration comes and goes as it pleases. Even the subtitles come and go as they please.
I hate to be so trite, but it looked good on my TV and sometimes, that’s half the battle. The rich orange beaches with electric-blue waves lapping at the shores, in particular stick with me. As does a scene of women clad in red in an impossibly green pool.
Pranzo Oltranzista
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I'm really happy you guys enjoyed L'hypothèse! To me, I've said it, this is top-3 all time (yes, as is L'année dernière). There's just too much to say about this film, but I think Amerika summed it quite well:
Ruiz used the tableaux vivants (differently) in a few of his latter works, but here it's really as a basic reflection on the image. The different paintings bring ideas about the immobility of the point of view and its consequence on perspective (or the necessary mobility of the point of view to open up perspectives), the staticity of the frame, focalisation, allusion (vs representation), the restrictive permanence of the paint vs the fluidity and malleability of the Collector's (and spectator's) thought process. As most of the films I enjoy most, its autoreflexivity is immensely complex.
It's also very interesting that the film is based on a book with which it has narratively nothing to do (only one of the paintings relate somewhat to Klossowski's Baphomet - a very hard/boring piece of literature). On the other hand, the film is really close to some of Klossowski's narrative obsessions, mainly in the rupture of enunciation. The "we" (Nous) the narrator uses is the equivalent of an academic "I" (Je), and thus puts the film as a subjective narration (where the narrator should become our "agent" in the narrative), but this agent is not part of the scenes (the Collector is not discussing with him, nor answering to him, but still completing his chain of thoughts as if he was hearing them), and his description of the action is not reliable. For example, there's one point where he says something like "The Collector opens the door and we follow him...." where what is really shown is the door opening itself and us (the camera/focalisation) staying behind.
The Collector cannot find a satisfying conclusion because he is trying to experiment every point of view at once (the Cubist utopy) - if you watch the little clip I posted from Le temps retrouvé, you'll find visual experimentations that go in the same direction (stuff that appears in quite a few other Ruiz films).
As always, my comments on movies here go in all directions and probably don't make much sense, but well... so many things in there.
And, if you're curious about Ruiz, here's to me what his best films are:
1) Les trois couronnes du matelot
2) L'hypothèse du tableau volé
3) Combat d'amour en songe
4) L'éveillé du pont de l'Alma
5) Trois vies et une seule mort
6) Le temps retrouvé
7) The Golden Boat
8) Généalogies d'un crime
9) Klimt
One thing that has to be known about Ruiz, there is no consistancy in the production value of his films. Some of them are written on the spot, and filmed in a few hours. For example, Le Professeur Taranne is the result of Ruiz being invited for some conferences in an acting school, and seeing the many actors that were on-hand, decided to write and shoot a film (right there and then, based on the principle of equal screentime for every character).
Damn, Les trois couronnes du matelot is on YouTube, used to be very hard to find. Best film ever. No subtitles though.
Trois vies et une seule mort is on YouTube too, with subtitles. This 18 seconds little clip should be enough to convince you to go for it:
Ruiz used the tableaux vivants (differently) in a few of his latter works, but here it's really as a basic reflection on the image. The different paintings bring ideas about the immobility of the point of view and its consequence on perspective (or the necessary mobility of the point of view to open up perspectives), the staticity of the frame, focalisation, allusion (vs representation), the restrictive permanence of the paint vs the fluidity and malleability of the Collector's (and spectator's) thought process. As most of the films I enjoy most, its autoreflexivity is immensely complex.
It's also very interesting that the film is based on a book with which it has narratively nothing to do (only one of the paintings relate somewhat to Klossowski's Baphomet - a very hard/boring piece of literature). On the other hand, the film is really close to some of Klossowski's narrative obsessions, mainly in the rupture of enunciation. The "we" (Nous) the narrator uses is the equivalent of an academic "I" (Je), and thus puts the film as a subjective narration (where the narrator should become our "agent" in the narrative), but this agent is not part of the scenes (the Collector is not discussing with him, nor answering to him, but still completing his chain of thoughts as if he was hearing them), and his description of the action is not reliable. For example, there's one point where he says something like "The Collector opens the door and we follow him...." where what is really shown is the door opening itself and us (the camera/focalisation) staying behind.
The Collector cannot find a satisfying conclusion because he is trying to experiment every point of view at once (the Cubist utopy) - if you watch the little clip I posted from Le temps retrouvé, you'll find visual experimentations that go in the same direction (stuff that appears in quite a few other Ruiz films).
As always, my comments on movies here go in all directions and probably don't make much sense, but well... so many things in there.
And, if you're curious about Ruiz, here's to me what his best films are:
1) Les trois couronnes du matelot
2) L'hypothèse du tableau volé
3) Combat d'amour en songe
4) L'éveillé du pont de l'Alma
5) Trois vies et une seule mort
6) Le temps retrouvé
7) The Golden Boat
8) Généalogies d'un crime
9) Klimt
One thing that has to be known about Ruiz, there is no consistancy in the production value of his films. Some of them are written on the spot, and filmed in a few hours. For example, Le Professeur Taranne is the result of Ruiz being invited for some conferences in an acting school, and seeing the many actors that were on-hand, decided to write and shoot a film (right there and then, based on the principle of equal screentime for every character).
Damn, Les trois couronnes du matelot is on YouTube, used to be very hard to find. Best film ever. No subtitles though.
Trois vies et une seule mort is on YouTube too, with subtitles. This 18 seconds little clip should be enough to convince you to go for it:
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Jevo
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- Oct 3, 2010
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- 413
I've been on holiday and then gotten a bit ill. So I'm playing a bit of catchup now. I expect to do that and be able to post my review of Invasion of the Body Snatchers this weekend.
The Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting (1978) dir. Raul Ruiz
An art collector is being interviewed by an off screen interviewer. The art collector guides the interviewer through his large house. The collector owns six paintings from a painter called Frederic Tonnere, out of a series of 7. The missing fourth painting is completely unknown as it was stolen from Tonnere himself. The collector is obsessed with this series of paintings, he feels he cannot completely understand the series without knowing what the missing picture is of. So he tries to use the other six paintings and the connections between them, to try and figure out what the missing picture might have been. To aid his quest he has hired actors to live act the six paintings in different rooms of the house. They stand completely still, creating a 3D painting that the art collector can walk around in. He can even rearrange the persons and props to give him deeper understanding about what might happen in between the paintings.
This movie is sort of a mystery/detective film, with the art collector acting as our detective going over the clues, trying to put them together in a coherent fashion in order to find the answer to the riddle he's put before himself. And the missing picture is the macguffin of the film. Of course this part is never resolved in any way, much less a satisfying one. Both the audience and the art collector leave the film with more unanswered questions about the fourth painting than came into it with. The movie can also be considered an early type of mockumentary. It's presented in a documentary style fashion with an interviewer and a subject leading us around. Of course the film is fully fictional. And as the movie progresses the interviewer starts questioning the methods and theories put forward by the collector, perhaps even in a slightly mocking fashion. Of course this doesn't faze the collector at all and he presses on. It's a slow progression over the course of the movie from the documentary style being a purely narrative tool, to this where the style is also heavily for parody of the type of documentary it imitates. This is not a movie that fits nicely into a square box. It is many things at the same time, and different things at different times in the movie. In a sort of mishmash that flows together incredibly nice.
Trying to figure out what Ruiz's intent with this movie is perhaps a futile endeavour, when the movie you are trying to analyse mocks you for trying. At least that's how it feels when we see the art collector who is slowly losing his mind trying to extract the intended meaning from a series of paintings, but he always feels constrained because he lacks one, and he's sure that's the reason why he's unsuccessful, because he has incomplete information. Although there's nothing to suggest he'd be any wiser with the last painting to his disposal. His analysis of the paintings he does have doesn't always lead you to believe he is on the path to some deeper connection. He certainly seems to often opt for a Freudian interpretation of the pictures. And maybe the point of it all is his struggles with extracting meaning. He's so obsessed with Tonnere's intent behind the series of paintings that he only focuses on Tonnere's intent, instead of extracting what he himself sees in the paintings, and crafting his own connections and stories between them. Of course he's inadvertently doing this, he's just unaware of it. Maybe you can over think art.
The Hypothesis of The Stolen Painting is a movie that stays with me. It's a movie that opens many avenues of interpretation, and as such my mind wanders in many different directions when thinking about this movie. Some of these directions are perhaps not the "right" directions, but they can be fun to humour for a while anyway. I haven't even talked about the visuals of the movie, which are a whole story in themselves, and there's some things that are definitely staying with me as well from that part of the movie.
The Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting (1978) dir. Raul Ruiz
An art collector is being interviewed by an off screen interviewer. The art collector guides the interviewer through his large house. The collector owns six paintings from a painter called Frederic Tonnere, out of a series of 7. The missing fourth painting is completely unknown as it was stolen from Tonnere himself. The collector is obsessed with this series of paintings, he feels he cannot completely understand the series without knowing what the missing picture is of. So he tries to use the other six paintings and the connections between them, to try and figure out what the missing picture might have been. To aid his quest he has hired actors to live act the six paintings in different rooms of the house. They stand completely still, creating a 3D painting that the art collector can walk around in. He can even rearrange the persons and props to give him deeper understanding about what might happen in between the paintings.
This movie is sort of a mystery/detective film, with the art collector acting as our detective going over the clues, trying to put them together in a coherent fashion in order to find the answer to the riddle he's put before himself. And the missing picture is the macguffin of the film. Of course this part is never resolved in any way, much less a satisfying one. Both the audience and the art collector leave the film with more unanswered questions about the fourth painting than came into it with. The movie can also be considered an early type of mockumentary. It's presented in a documentary style fashion with an interviewer and a subject leading us around. Of course the film is fully fictional. And as the movie progresses the interviewer starts questioning the methods and theories put forward by the collector, perhaps even in a slightly mocking fashion. Of course this doesn't faze the collector at all and he presses on. It's a slow progression over the course of the movie from the documentary style being a purely narrative tool, to this where the style is also heavily for parody of the type of documentary it imitates. This is not a movie that fits nicely into a square box. It is many things at the same time, and different things at different times in the movie. In a sort of mishmash that flows together incredibly nice.
Trying to figure out what Ruiz's intent with this movie is perhaps a futile endeavour, when the movie you are trying to analyse mocks you for trying. At least that's how it feels when we see the art collector who is slowly losing his mind trying to extract the intended meaning from a series of paintings, but he always feels constrained because he lacks one, and he's sure that's the reason why he's unsuccessful, because he has incomplete information. Although there's nothing to suggest he'd be any wiser with the last painting to his disposal. His analysis of the paintings he does have doesn't always lead you to believe he is on the path to some deeper connection. He certainly seems to often opt for a Freudian interpretation of the pictures. And maybe the point of it all is his struggles with extracting meaning. He's so obsessed with Tonnere's intent behind the series of paintings that he only focuses on Tonnere's intent, instead of extracting what he himself sees in the paintings, and crafting his own connections and stories between them. Of course he's inadvertently doing this, he's just unaware of it. Maybe you can over think art.
The Hypothesis of The Stolen Painting is a movie that stays with me. It's a movie that opens many avenues of interpretation, and as such my mind wanders in many different directions when thinking about this movie. Some of these directions are perhaps not the "right" directions, but they can be fun to humour for a while anyway. I haven't even talked about the visuals of the movie, which are a whole story in themselves, and there's some things that are definitely staying with me as well from that part of the movie.
Ralph Spoilsport
Registered User
- Jun 4, 2011
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Normally I'd have been up for Hypothesis but have been so under the weather lately I've been opting for extra sleep over moviewatching every time. I think I went 0-for-August as far as movies go. I'm getting back to my old self now so will catch up with Ruiz, Godard and the Body Snatchers soon, when my head is back online.
Ralph Spoilsport
Registered User
- Jun 4, 2011
- 1,234
- 427
Drag. That site can be hit-or-miss, which is a shame 'cuz it seems like a great resource. Try back every now and then.
EDIT: The movie seems to be back up now. You get hit with a pop-up ad in a new window when you press play; just close the window and go back to start the movie. Hopefully it'll work for you next time.
Jevo
Registered User
- Oct 3, 2010
- 3,509
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The Image Book (2018) dir. Jean-Luc Godard
I'm sure Godard believes there's a very clear point to all this, it's not all just a incoherent rambling by an old man. Unfortunately I lost interest before any kind of point to it all started to emerge, so I'm not actually sure if Godard is right. The Image Book is best described as a video essay consisting partially of clips from films from the last 100 years, rummaging about film history, society, war and the middle east, I think, I'm not really sure. There's some narration and spoken lines from the various film clips used. The narration seemed as free form and unstructured as the editing, not aiding much in comprehension. The spoken lines from film clips didn't appear to be subtitled in the version I watched, so they probably weren't very important compared to the imagery. It does annoy me that it is kept in though, because I start doubting if I'm missing out on anything when I can hear someone speaking but with no subtitles.
As I said, I'm sure Godard finds meaning in all of this, but I didn't. I let the movie stew a few days more than I planned after watching it, hoping that something would connect in my head. Hoping that I could get something marginally intelligent to write in this review, instead of just beating around the bush about how I didn't get the movie. But nothing happened. I even considered watching it again, but I started getting bored by the thought of it. I just don't think the late part of Godards career is for me. Heck, I'm not even really a fan of 60s Godard.
I'm sure Godard believes there's a very clear point to all this, it's not all just a incoherent rambling by an old man. Unfortunately I lost interest before any kind of point to it all started to emerge, so I'm not actually sure if Godard is right. The Image Book is best described as a video essay consisting partially of clips from films from the last 100 years, rummaging about film history, society, war and the middle east, I think, I'm not really sure. There's some narration and spoken lines from the various film clips used. The narration seemed as free form and unstructured as the editing, not aiding much in comprehension. The spoken lines from film clips didn't appear to be subtitled in the version I watched, so they probably weren't very important compared to the imagery. It does annoy me that it is kept in though, because I start doubting if I'm missing out on anything when I can hear someone speaking but with no subtitles.
As I said, I'm sure Godard finds meaning in all of this, but I didn't. I let the movie stew a few days more than I planned after watching it, hoping that something would connect in my head. Hoping that I could get something marginally intelligent to write in this review, instead of just beating around the bush about how I didn't get the movie. But nothing happened. I even considered watching it again, but I started getting bored by the thought of it. I just don't think the late part of Godards career is for me. Heck, I'm not even really a fan of 60s Godard.
Spring in Fialta
A malign star kept him
Need some help with The Image Book...if anyone can PM me...will watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers in the meantime. I don't mind paying for an online rental.
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Spring in Fialta
A malign star kept him
Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) - A fun flick, if only a little too on the nose by moments, especially the dialogue. Every aspect of the film trots along competently and despite its conventional structure, I liked that it hit the ground running and didn't waste time besides the immediate or trite explanations. The script doesn't require too much of the cast and the actors execute well. I thought the sometimes grainy sound that could be heard when the characters and environment was silent to be a nice touch, although I couldn't say if that was on purpose. But that doesn't matter. I won't take away a work's luck. Some of the 50s special effects were hella fun too. I smiled watching what are obvious dolls coming out of the seed pods as well as the theatrical smoke and reactions. I also enjoyed that the film didn't go with a whole lot of brouhaha. It feels like modern genre cinema relies on that a little too much.
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