this is how I discovered the great work of Angelopoulos. Nostalgia, exile, sorrow, loneliness and silence: my go to issues in cinema, and of course, a remarkable cinematography...
" I have asked you one day: How long will tomorrow last? And you answered to me: Eternity and a day. "
Theo Angelopoulos' avoidance of editing is mesmerizing at its best. At worst, it makes my mind wander away from the story - not unlike the distracted old poet played by Ganz in this film. "Ah, those were the times" - I can read similar sentiments between many of the long takes, and unfortunately a lack of faith in tomorrow. Up close, I enjoyed the presence of the Albanian boy. He is not allowed much, but brings hope.
It's long, it's haunting, it's gorgeously shot, it's beautiful, it's poetic, it's powerful. An incredible film. And that scene on the bus is just one of those rare moments in cinema history that contains a momentum of beauty and simplicity that is purely astonishing.
His extended takes flow between past and present as seamlessly as the mind does. I'm haunted by two shots in particular, juxtaposed against each other: the children clinging to the fence at the Albanian border, and the children hugging the railings of the tiered balcony in the abandoned building.
Touches on nearly every theme that I find important and valuable in my life. Beautiful.
Drawn out tracking shots draw the spectator into the life of the lonely, dying Alexander as we follow him about his last day, discovering through his relationship with the boy, the flashbacks, the voiceovers, that perhaps it wasn't his choice to be so solitary..but life just goes round in circles, and can he ever really break free? Absorbing and beautifully composed.
A melancholic film about death yet also a beautiful ode to life. An accomplished work by an underrated auteur. Wonderful music by Eleni Karaindrou.