L’Imortelle |
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“What can one do here? You can see for yourself that this city isn’t real.”
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Very much in the style of Marienbad, this meanders through the streets of Istanbul, filled with music and the sound of dogs barking (both taking on increasingly sinister significance), as an unnamed Man follows a woman calling herself Lale, first at her side, then chasing after her elusive shadow, having apparently disappeared. The same geometric exactness and philosophical coldness is here, advancing a kind of mystery to similar effect as in Marienbad; memories replay and reform as the viewer more or less assembles the clues with our Man, thrown off as he is by distorted angles and constantly reconfiguring groups. Perplexing, haunting, and exciting.
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How long does it take you to update all these posts?
You are some kind of nut… the nuttiest kind. Why would anyone want to catalog their film experiences? I’m beginning to realize just how terrifying this all is. This project of yours almost feels like the product of a mental breakdown. Do you need saving? I’m feeling especially heroic today, so all you have to do is cry “Help!” and I’ll do stupidly brave things to save you.
Perhaps you are in desperate need of a personal epiphany… or maybe just an outstanding love affair. Or maybe you are as sane as you’ve always been… [scary thought].
Comment by Mango — 2 January 2008 @ 2 January 2008As to what appeal THAT holds, indeed I may be nutty. I suppose it is the fundamental difference that has compelled me to make lists since I began, and you not for a moment.
There is this divide between us: ah, can any heroics bridge it?
Sane as I’ve always been, yes, but that’s not very.
Comment by Lauren — 2 January 2008 @ 2 January 2008Hmm. Smilies used to work in the comments.
Comment by Lauren — 2 January 2008 @ 2 January 2008My heroism went to great waste today. I’m ready to save any number of people– is that a building on fire? *rushes in*
But, no, no heroic opportunities present today.
Eh, I’m a knight without a damsel. That is my problem. (And obviously, you are no damsel–you are a damsel-killer, you liberated feminist!)
Comment by Mango — 2 January 2008 @ 2 January 2008It’s true, I’d thwart you at every turn. If only it were the 1940s and I were more Kate Hepburn than I am: I’d find a way to be an independent damsel. Women seem to have once had that knack.
But you’d still be questing after an Audrey.
Comment by Lauren — 2 January 2008 @ 2 January 2008