It's hard to know where to even begin when writing down my thoughts about this criminally little known masterpiece.
The only dialogue is spoken by a narrator, who talks exclusively in the second person, describing the experiences of the sole protagonist, a male student suffering from depression who succumbs to nihilism, loneliness and meaninglessness. The second person narration forcibly puts the viewer into the mind of the student in a way that no other device could. It's one thing to have someone else's state of mind described, but here the pronoun being used is 'You'. Its hard-hitting, to say the least, especially if a lot of what is being said rings true with you, or is similar to ideas you have had in the past.
The language is deeply poetic, articulating things that simply couldn't be conveyed normally. Throughout, the sentences spoken have been carefully written with a sense of purpose, conveying ideas in a better way than simply stating them ever could. Even though the subtitles in the copy of the film I watched weren't always perfect, that didn't detract from the sheer power of the words being spoken.
The imagery is just as poetic. It is all beautifully shot, the camera exquisitely showing an often desolate Paris. There is an attention to detail here, and elegant visual metaphor. For example Perec and Queysanne play with the student's reflection, splitting it in two or showing it in a cracked mirror to highlight the state of his mind.
The consequence of all of this is an immersive experience like no other, one that makes you emotionally invested even though you don't know anything about the character's backstory and even though he utters not one word. It conveys the indifference he has to the world so well and it makes you understand it, maybe even understand a bit better thoughts and feelings you yourself have had. Every device the film uses works to achieve this: the camerawork, the narration, the repetition. It's often the details that do it: a crack in the ceiling, the René Magritte painting on the wall, the fascination with meaningless facts like a pink plastic bowl with six socks. The constant ticking clock in the background that stops when he cuts himself off from any sense of time. A sitting, unmoving man sat opposite the student with a pillar between them.
But the film has a purpose beyond preaching despair. The last 10 minutes are unexpected and emotionally stirring. He tried to make himself indifferent to the world around him, to lose his sense of time, to do the bare minimum he needed to do to live. The world was indifferent to him in return. This made him angry, he wanted to tear it all down. But he couldn't. He wanted to disappear. But he couldn't. He wanted to lose his sense of time. But he couldn't. So he resigns himself to his insignificance in the grand scheme of things. The best he can do is find some place in the world, however mediocre, and to enjoy the things that bring him pleasure, however small. Because being indifferent is futile. Being solitary is futile. Being angry is futile. It achieves nothing. It changes nothing. All it does is waste the precious time you have to enjoy the beauty of this world. It's an affirming ending to a film that is more than a study of depression and indifference. It's a film that shows you how you can escape it, even if only for a little while.
The only dialogue is spoken by a narrator, who talks exclusively in the second person, describing the experiences of the sole protagonist, a male student suffering from depression who succumbs to nihilism, loneliness and meaninglessness. The second person narration forcibly puts the viewer into the mind of the student in a way that no other device could. It's one thing to have someone else's state of mind described, but here the pronoun being used is 'You'. Its hard-hitting, to say the least, especially if a lot of what is being said rings true with you, or is similar to ideas you have had in the past.
The language is deeply poetic, articulating things that simply couldn't be conveyed normally. Throughout, the sentences spoken have been carefully written with a sense of purpose, conveying ideas in a better way than simply stating them ever could. Even though the subtitles in the copy of the film I watched weren't always perfect, that didn't detract from the sheer power of the words being spoken.
The imagery is just as poetic. It is all beautifully shot, the camera exquisitely showing an often desolate Paris. There is an attention to detail here, and elegant visual metaphor. For example Perec and Queysanne play with the student's reflection, splitting it in two or showing it in a cracked mirror to highlight the state of his mind.
The consequence of all of this is an immersive experience like no other, one that makes you emotionally invested even though you don't know anything about the character's backstory and even though he utters not one word. It conveys the indifference he has to the world so well and it makes you understand it, maybe even understand a bit better thoughts and feelings you yourself have had. Every device the film uses works to achieve this: the camerawork, the narration, the repetition. It's often the details that do it: a crack in the ceiling, the René Magritte painting on the wall, the fascination with meaningless facts like a pink plastic bowl with six socks. The constant ticking clock in the background that stops when he cuts himself off from any sense of time. A sitting, unmoving man sat opposite the student with a pillar between them.
But the film has a purpose beyond preaching despair. The last 10 minutes are unexpected and emotionally stirring. He tried to make himself indifferent to the world around him, to lose his sense of time, to do the bare minimum he needed to do to live. The world was indifferent to him in return. This made him angry, he wanted to tear it all down. But he couldn't. He wanted to disappear. But he couldn't. He wanted to lose his sense of time. But he couldn't. So he resigns himself to his insignificance in the grand scheme of things. The best he can do is find some place in the world, however mediocre, and to enjoy the things that bring him pleasure, however small. Because being indifferent is futile. Being solitary is futile. Being angry is futile. It achieves nothing. It changes nothing. All it does is waste the precious time you have to enjoy the beauty of this world. It's an affirming ending to a film that is more than a study of depression and indifference. It's a film that shows you how you can escape it, even if only for a little while.