Vladivostok

The last panel of the triptych: the shortest, most compact one, the most decidedly anchored in the traditions of silent movies (as Ossang perceives them and reformulates them, that’s understood). And, maybe, the most playful, as the intertitle “L’Eden” flickering over Lenin’s bust hints. The doubtful paradise is Vladivostok, a city of statues and mannequins, as in Ciel éteint!; before arriving there there’s a separation, a trip, the possibility of a new life that, like Jack Belsen’s music, seems to always be in its preamble, without ever deciding to start. But the end of the trip, which is its beginning, has hugs and moving trains and is, in its own way, happy. Or isn’t it? –BAFICI