Last month each viewing of The Souvenir lifted me one step into an aesthetic that I couldn't initially appreciate. And now it's happening again, with Our Time, by Carlos Reygadas. (The reviews on Metacritic are abysmally low.)
My first viewing, last night, was similar to that of at least one reviewer. In the middle of an interesting or puzzling shot, your heart breaks open and you haven't the faintest idea why. Has the spaciousness of the landscape prepared you? Or the passage of time? Or the tension? At the end (or in my case, as always, the next morning) you are left with such sadness. For...? For the human condition?
In his first sentence one reviewer calls the film "spiritual." Yes, at times wasn't there the sense of something beneath the surface, silent, all-embracing? Needs to be seen again.
My first viewing, last night, was similar to that of at least one reviewer. In the middle of an interesting or puzzling shot, your heart breaks open and you haven't the faintest idea why. Has the spaciousness of the landscape prepared you? Or the passage of time? Or the tension? At the end (or in my case, as always, the next morning) you are left with such sadness. For...? For the human condition?
In his first sentence one reviewer calls the film "spiritual." Yes, at times wasn't there the sense of something beneath the surface, silent, all-embracing? Needs to be seen again.