I hit an impasse with Bresson's previous film, Diary; he used a peculiar conflation of a search for transparent truth in the mysteries of life with anguish and dejection as romanticized spiritual journey, romanticized in the Christian sense where it's not spiritual if it doesn't have anguish. It seemed crude and without enlightenment.
The impasse was; was the pious young priest for Bresson another person among others in the village led astray in the effort to rationalize his emotions, or was he above them, an ideal to aspire to? This was more interesting to me than the film itself.
So I came to this hoping for the fresh light of retrospect. And what a stark contrast this is! Another idealistic young man who suffers torments, physical and inner, another life of anguish in four walls. But here Bresson draws the breath in, quiets the anguish, accepts the fact of it, and works to concentrate the senses and create physical presence. We've come far in our ability to do this, but it still resonates.
The film is practically a long suspense piece, with a few questions about ethics suspended briefly. The man here, by contrast to the priest, simply does the work he sets out before him. He doesn't perceive himself a martyr of his cause, or a quiet sufferer of wrongs, he simply abides and prepares for the long night. His idealism waits to be found out until near the end when the charges against him are laid out; sabotage.
It's fine work, easy to parse. It doesn't answer the impasse mentioned above so for that I'll have to go to his next one.
