Slovakia during WW2. Tono lives a poor life, but the authorities offer him to take over the Jewish widow Lautman's little shop for sewing material. She is old and confused and thinks that ... See full summary »
Summertime. A cruising spot for men, tucked away on the shores of a lake. Franck falls in love with Michel. An attractive, potent and lethally dangerous man. Franck knows this, but wants to live out his passion anyway.
A cross-cut of nearly 100 years of American movies. We see the most precious film sequences that we all remember: From "Citizen Kane" to "Star Wars", from "Some like it hot" to "E.T.". The ... See full summary »
The building of the M11 Link Road in East London provoked a long and bitter campaign by local residents to protect their homes from demolition. Blight was filmed during this period, while ... See full summary »
The life of a great city (Paris) from dawn until dusk, including the beautiful and the ragged, the rich and the poor, with little or no comment (intertitles) from the director, Cavalcanti (whose first film this was).
It's unexpected gems like these, shown as late-night fillers on minority channels, that keep the jaded cineaste excited and in love with the medium all over again. Though rigorously despairing in its view of history and humanity, REVOLVER has a clarity and beauty of image I haven't seen in years.
A serious of tableaux vivants are intertitled with dates which may, or may not, be significant in Swedish, or world history. A man drowns in a black slick. An old man fails to photograph his grandson because the latter keeps coming behind the camera. A couple try to dine underwater, but their implements keep floating away from them.
REVOLVER is composed of many such vignettes, which feature repetition, the mechanisation of humanity, our increasing dominance by the implements we use, submergence, failure, lack of perception, overwhelming. History goes round and round, but instead of continuity offers disjunction, dislocation, fragmentation. For all our technological advances, we are even less able to communicate with each other.
This is articulated in the film's form, which repeats and collapses in on itself, a Maxwell's Demon of repetition that burns up energy, wasting information, until final dissipation and collapse.
The individual images are grotesque, yet clearly evocative, in gleaming black and white compositions, just as I imagine the peepholes in Angela Carter's 'The Infernal Desire Machines Of Doctor Hoffman'. I especially loved the kitchen with the chessboard walls and floor, reminding us of one of the film's deconstructive forbears, Lewis Carroll, who also used dream imagery to destroy our complacent view of the world. I beg of you to watch this amazing short if you ever spot it buried in some unsympathetic listings.
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