MUBI

This is one of those films that makes me wish I had a time machine, so I could go back to 1961 and experience for myself how truly revolutionary it was then. Marienbad has been copied many, many times in the 50 years since its release, so watching it in 2011 does diminish the overall effect somewhat- there was a slight twinge of “been there, done that” that accompanied my viewing. This is not, however, a flaw of the film itself, and its spawning of countless imitators should stand as testament to the originality of Mr. Resnais’ ideas.

In an opulent European hotel, which may or may not be in Marienbad, we encounter a woman. She may or may not have stayed at this hotel last year, and she may or may not be married. She may or may not have engaged in an affair with another man, and she may or may not have agreed to run away with him in one year’s time. Conversations repeat themselves as if on an endless loop. Time appears fluid, and the environs are rife with logical and geographical impossibilities (in the still above, for example, the people cast long shadows while the trees and statues do not). The characters move and speak in robotic, unnatural ways, and often seem completely unaware of their surroundings. Confusing? Disorienting? Absolutely. Couple all of the above with gorgeous cinematography, costumes designed by Coco Chanel, and a sprawling, organ-based score, and you’ve got yourself a thoroughly intriguing (and thoroughly creepy) film. Whether Marienbad is a dream, reality, something in between, or none of the above is up for the viewer to decide. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore- except when they’re intentionally ripping it off.

It’s like a picture made up of several pictures that make sense individually but together form some sort of distorted, almost surrealistic image. Whatever this was about I don’t really care, its visual style is good enough for me. Not only that, but I now have like 10 new film ideas ready to steal; the sudden shift in background, the random repeated 2 second shots of someone’s movements in the middle of a scene (like that girl going to lie down on her bed), characters freezing then resume acting, everything doesn’t really make any sense like some random dream, and the organs sure don’t hurt, just like in 8 & 1/2 (though this reminds me more of Sunset Boulevard). What I liked the most was the panning of that statue as the cool backgrounds slowly moved. Then you see the two lovers? talking in !!!that garden!!! which I doubt will ever get out of my head. It’s what I call eye candy, but if only this was more romantic so I could eat some heart candy as well.

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rd game looks really intriguing to play.

I’ve sat around all evening and into the night trying to come up with an intelligent and coherent reflection for LAST YEAR AT MARIENBAD, but all I’ve ended up doing is sitting at a blank computer screen with similar anguish to Nicolas Cage as Charlie Kaufman in ADAPTATION. My mind has raced between the ideas of the visual motifs. The mirrors. The long corridors. The late Baroque architecture. The frozen people. The deep shadows. And how all of these images I can recall represent something. I also remember the dialogue in which guests at this fancy château ask whether an event took place in 1928 or ‘29, if they remember meeting each other at a previous engagement, if they’ve seen something (the character actually only heard about it) and vaguely comment on making some sort of connections that aren’t actually there. But my mind is ultimately lead to the meat of LAST YEAR AT MARIENBAD, which is the back and forth between our male and female characters about meeting each other the year prior at the very same venue. The man attempts to prove to the woman they met and had an affair together, but she seems to refuse to accept it. Or even remember it. With all of that in my head, I’ve attempted to make connections between all of these things and how I can possibly address all of them in one well thought out, coherent piece. Is it about the nature of the human mind and its ability to recall past events and feelings? Is it about love and how sometimes it is worth taking a risk for? Or should I look past all of that and look deeper and see it as an allegory about the very art and craft of filmmaking? LAST YEAR AT MARIENBAD appears to be about all of these things, yet still manages to be about none of them. It’s an enigma. It’s free association and stream of consciousness put to film. In the end, we the viewer take away what we want from this romantic yet haunting fever dream of a movie. At one point I feel like I’ve made all the connections, put all the pieces of the puzzle together, only to find myself back where I started, scratching my head and wondering how in the world I am going to write this review. I guess, all I can really write is, “Wow. What striking black and white cinematography.”

Marienbad is often described as “New Wave” but in my opinion this is a miscategorization. It is true that it made its debut during that era, and it is equally true that Resnais was one of the “Left Bank” group of artists who socialized and encouraged each other at that time. If you watch Agnes Varda’s charming “Beaches of Agnes” she mentions him many times as part of the clique. But if the New Wave can be defined by its style, it was broadly speaking irreverent, free-form, fresh, fluid informal, and strongly plot-driven. M. Resnais’ work does not belong in this group. It is more formal and formalistic, more conceptual, less narrative-dependent, more disciplined, more structured, more measured, less ebullient … Marienbad in particular. Those who say it owes a lot to Proust perhaps have not actually read Proust. The only trait it shares is that of presenting the same situation from differing and sometimes contradictory perspectives. I first saw it in 1961 in London and have been intrigued by it ever since. I even had the honor of meeting M. Resnais once, in 1972 in Toronto and was struck by his sense of focus, purpose, and careful thoughtfulness. I asked him about the symbolism in Marienbad (what an inane question, but I was awestruck) He said there was none. After years of thinking about that I think I see what he meant, viz: no conscious symbolism. “This” did not directly represent “that”, nor did “A” represent “B” in the director’s mind. Like free association he laid out all the pathways and possibilities as his own creative mind processes shaped them, and honed them elegantly into a “Rorshchach-blot” masterpiece from which we must derive our own experience. That might well produce a work of “self-indulgence” (as Ms. Kael called it) or even chaos in less skillful hands, but under M. Resnais’ masterful and measured control, it brought forth a structure of complex beauty and lasting fascination. That’s my view, anyway.

There’s a feeling of emptiness and repetition created by the opening shot. You just can’t wait for it to be over, the dull stuffiness. The people are likewise portrayed as vacant stern faced immobile blocks of stone, tired and uninspired. The strange use of soundtrack predates Godard and the stopping & starting of the people predates Fellini. Surely some innovative and surreal techniques employed. The characters in the film feel trapped in a nightmare maze. The woman is the only real thing alive and stands against the dead and stodgy surroundings. What a fucking horribly boring movie.

“At first glance, it seemed impossible to lose your way… At first glance.” Resnais knowingly sold us a 5000 piece jigsaw puzzle that was missing 1000 pieces, leaving the mind to wander, exploring just what exactly the final picture may be. Every time you think you’ve gotten an edge on it, you’re back to where you started a minute later. More of a cinematic Rorschach test than anything else, what I love about Resnais’ masterpiece is that you can sit down with 50 different people and watch it with them, and receive 50 different interpretations afterward, each based their viewers personal experiences and how they connect them with the film. I’ve watched it with a number of friends, ranging in areas of interest, but and all perfectly capable of analyzing idiosyncratic artistic expression, and the various results of their examinations are always compelling. From basic perceptions regarding their relationship, to concepts about the characters being metaphors for the creative process itself, to the ominous and even apocalyptic aura the movie can sometimes radiate with, the topics of discussion the film can lead to seem to be virtually endless. Possibly the densest film I’ve ever watched in terms of both style (oh my god, it is gorgeous) and substance, “Last Year At Marienbad” handles memory in a way that can never be duplicated, through purposeful ambiguity, both challenging it’s authenticity and emphasizing it’s subjectivity. I will never get sick of this movie, because depending on my mindset it is a completely different experience each time. The only consistency seems to be that it gets better every time I watch it, yet I can comfortably admit that I’m still no where near an understanding of what the fuck it is about. We’re such competitive creatures, what is better than a film that actually challenges you to watch it again? Breath-taking to a student of philosophy in a way that only 2001: A Space Odyssey surpasses – 5 stars.

Antes que nada, debo decir que " El año pasado en Marienbad " es una pelicula extraordinaria en todos los rubros; una cinta que suele figurar entre las listas de las mejores peliculas de la historia del cine, y que seguramente muchos miembros de esta comunidad no se atreveran a afirmar lo contrario. Dicho esto, debo aclarar tambien que la presente nota, màs que describir las impresiones que dejo en quien esto escribe el visionado de este film, esta mas orientada a compartir con el lector una descripciòn mas o menos detallada de las reacciones que este clasico de la “nueva” ola francesa suele provocar en ciertos espectadores, (entre los que me incluyo, hasta cierto punto) quienes tuvimos la rarisima oportunidad de apreciarla en el mas importante recinto del llamado “circuito cultural” de la Ciudad de Mèxico. Tampoco es mi intenciòn el menoscabar los meritos de este film (que los tiene, sin duda), quizas el mas conocido del veterano realizador frances Alain Resnais, sino exponer algunos detalles, o mas bien, actitudes de algunos “cinefilos” antes y despues de la proyecciòn durante una lluviosa tarde dominical…el año pasado en el D.F.

Pero entremos en detalles.

La Cineteca Nacional de la Ciudad de Mèxico es considerada, junto con la filmoteca de la UNAM, el mas importante punto de encuentro de la comunidad cinefila a nivel nacional, especialmente ahora, durante su actual administraciòn, con Leonardo Garcia Tsao, critico y guionista de cine, en la Direcciòn de esta y al frente de su equipo de colaboradores, todos antiguos articulistas y criticos tambien de la desaparecida revista Dicine, quienes han logrado inyectarle a este recinto un aire renovador, despues de las desastrosas consecuencias por el bajo nivel de la programaciòn y las pesimas condiciones de exhibiciòn y mantenimiento de sus instalaciones mostradas por las administraciones anteriores.
La Cineteca, no obstante, es un lugar curiosisimo (como seguramente deben de serlo todos los recintos similares alrededor del mundo) ya que, como mencione, constituye un lugar de cita obligado para lo mas “selecto” , “culto” y “conocedor” de la cinefilia nacional e internacional, y a veces, tambien, la fauna que suele asistir resulta ser tan curiosa o interesante como las mismas peliculas. Es el unico recinto cinematografico en el que si dan una funcion, digamos, dedicada al cine chino, frances,hindù, polaco, etc, es posible encontrar entre los espectadores a otros tantos ciudadanos de dichas nacionalidades, o bien, donde es aùn posible ver como ciertos sectores “cinefilicos” aun aplauden al termino de cada funciòn, aunque la pelicula haya resultado ser una soberana pendejada, o como algunos les rinden culto y pleitesia a films o directores de dudosa capacidad (por ejemplo, Juan Orol: no existen peliculas mas idiotas que las suyas, sin embargo, al asistir a una funciòn de “Gangsters contra charros”, y al aparecer dicho “auteur” en la pantalla, algunos de los asistentes se levantaron de su asiento, como si les hubieran metido una mecha encendida por el culo, a vitorearlo como si de una gloria nacional se tratara). Cierto que uno puede, no obstate, toparse en este lugar a grandes personalidades del medio, como Peter Greenaway con su acostumbrada pedanteria y flema inglesa, o divertidisimas platicas con David Cronenberg y Guillermo Del Toro, entre algunos otros, o bien, con autenticos cinefilos, verdaderos conocedores del septimo arte (especialmente los adultos mayores: resulta un placer ( e instructivo, ademas ) escucharlos hablar sobre determinado tipo de cine, pero desafortunadamente, son los menos, lo que nos conduce a quienes va dirigida la presente nota: para bien o para mal, la mayoria de los asistentes a dicho sitio, son en su mayoria moconetes de entre 17 y veintitantos años de edad, que muestran los mismos sintomas que algunos de los miembros de esta comunidad virtual, esto es, aquellos que ya se sienten criticos de cine por repetir como periquitos lo que han leido en revistas como “Tiempo libre” o “Chilango” acerca de determinada cinta enfrente de sus amigos; o como aquellos pendejos a quienes se les llena el hocico por ensalzar con los terminos mas eruditos o intelectuales que su pendeja mente puede reciclar en el momento, las virtudes del cine de Godard, Tarkovski, Bresson, Truffaut, etc, pero que, a lo sumo, en su pinche vida apenas habran visto una o ninguna de las obras de cada realizador; o bien, aquellos otros que, haciendose pasar por muy conocedores, incluyen en su lista de “favorite auteurs” a cientos de directores de las mas diversas y exoticas procedencias, pero no son capaces siquiera de incluir a un solo puto director mexicano.

Precisamente, uno de estos especimenes se encontraba formado detras de mi en la fila para comprar los boletos, previo a la exhibiciòn de la cinta en cuestiòn, durante una retrospectiva dedicada a Resnais en la Cineteca durante el mes de Diciembre del año pasado, por lo que no pude evitar escuchar involuntariamente (ya que la pinche cola estaba bastante larga) por espacio de algo asi como diez minutos, la cantidad de estupideces que decia. El gûey este ,de unos 24 años, iba acompañado por una chica (bastante simpatica, por cierto) de la misma edad, dueña de un inconfundible acento frances, quien escuchaba, pacientemente, la sarta de barbaridades que le salian de la boca al sujeto, pero quien las decia (o trataba de hacerlo) con unos aires de sabiduria que parecia que estaba dando una catedra. Casi al llegar a la taquilla, y despues de recitar sus mamadas, el moconete le pregunto a la chica: “¿Entramos a disfrutar del arte de Resnais?” a lo que esta le respondio con un sencillo y categorico “No mames.”

Puuuuta madre. El pobre pendejo sintiò que le mentaban la madre o que le escupian en la jeta la peor de las blasfemias, ya que, con un tono de voz lleno de incredulidad, enojo y asombro, casi gritando, le pregunto: “¿¿Como, eres francesa y no te gusta el cine de Resnais??” a lo que la muchacha, con la misma tranquilidad y desinteres, le respondiò: “¿ Y porque me debe gustar? no, que flojera. Mejor llevame a conocer Coyoacan”.

Emblematico caso, no les parece? . Esto me permitiò constatar, por pricipio de cuentas, aquel dicho de que nadie es profeta en su tierra, asi como aquel otro “De lengua me echò un pinche taco”. Es como aqui, en nuestro pais, el caso de Arturo Ripstein. Venerado e idolatrado en Francia y España, en Mèxico a nadie le importa una chingada lo que haga este director, sin embargo, abundan las hordas de nacos que se dicen admiradores de Lars Von Trier, de Fellini o Bergman, que huyen del cine de su pais como si de la plaga se tratara, pero eso si, en su coleccion particular de DVD’s, guardan celosamente sendas ediciones especiales de Robotech, Thundercats o los caballeros del zodiaco.
Otro tanto sucediò durante y despues de la proyecciòn. Durante esta, pude al menos contar 20 diferentes ronquidos a mi alrededor, y, al termino de la funciòn, algo poco mas de la mitad de los asistentes mostraban en el rostro señales de sueño. Hubo incluso una chava que, con los parpados hinchados de dormir y limpiandose los rastros de tanta baba que le escurriò del hocico, al cuestionarle uno de sus acompañantes sobre si le habia gustado la pelicula, esta todavia se atreviò a responderle entre balbuceos y con toda la modorra del mundo:
“Sssszzzsssii….me gussstò….ezzzz una obra maessszzztra…”

¿Buen motivo de reflexiòn o debate? lo indudablemente cierto es que la cinta de Alain Resnais es una experiencia que raya en lo sublime. Como bien señala el trailer, es una pelicula que invita a la interactividad, y a decidir por uno mismo, en base a incluso, el menor gesto en los rostros de sus personajes, cual es la veracidad o la mentira planteadas en la historia, un alucinante pero logradisimo juego realidad-tiempo, perpetrado con la sutilisima habilidad caracteristica del realizador, y en la que no es posible dejar afuera los logros en la direcciòn fotografica y el impresionante aspecto visual de la cinta debidos a la estupenda camara de Sacha Vierny, asiduo colaborador de Resnais y futuro director de cabecera en la fotografia de las peliculas de Peter Greenaway, con sus encuadres perfectos, planeados simetricamente hasta en el menor detalle (algo que unicamente habia yo podido apreciar en las peliculas de Kubrick), sus impresionantes claroscuros, y, por supuesto, la fortuna que significó ver esta cinta de la mejor manera, esto es, en una estupenda copia en 35mm.

Un film que puede resultar, comprensiblemente, una delicia o la hueva total, pero que es, fuera de discusiòn, una cinta que vale la pena verse, aun si para ello es necesario, por si las dudas, ir con 2 tazas de cafe expresso bien puestas en el estomago, por eso de evitar hacer el oso.