two from the festival

Finally, I've found the time, motivation, and verbosity to write.

The Man from London

Exquisiteness is too weak a word to describe the visual virtuosity of the movie. It is easily Bela Tarr's most accessible film since he began his exercises in extraordinary compositions and elaborate camera movements. This time, there is a story, and stuff actually happens. The story is familiar enough to provide a psychological background that brings extra dimensions to prolonged moments of walking and contemplation. Some people think that Tarr is trying something new, but we still have, as usual, desolate landscapes and their melancholic inhabitants (though much fewer). Greediness remains the main motivation that spins off a chain of events. At times, the movie finds it necessary to include signature scenes with looping accordions and dancing pub patrons. The only missing element is the mysticism that plays a major role in Tarr's previous two films. Nevertheless, why should we care about differences? The film is simply a feast for your eyes and ears. See it, feel it, absorb its beauty, and remember what cinema is really about.

Dans la ville de Sylvia

It is about time that we stop using the term "voyeur" to describe every film where the audience is given an opportunity to gaze at women. There is so much else in addition to the gazing, observing, and following. What the film captures is the harmony between the observer and the environment: a total immersion in its atmosphere. In an era where portable audio devices eliminate people's attention to their surroundings, the film almost feels like a timely persuasion: watch what you see, and listen to what you hear. Remember the essence of cinema: sound, images, and movements. The film also bears a sign of timelessness through its universal theme: a romantic's pursuit of his dreams in la vie quotidienne. As an ostensibly subjective film, it also includes many mysterious scenes where the identify of the observer is ambiguous. Some people think that those scenes come from the imagination of our protagonist - or could it be the filmmaker, or the viewer? Dans la ville the Sylvia is nothing less than a timely and timeless masterpiece. It provides compelling evidence that cinema is far from dying; as a matter of fact, it has hardly been as exciting and alive.