Thought I would re-post my review of the film, for anyone who would like to start a dialog ;-)
NE CHANGE RIEN- Torture, Beauty, and Song
At the AFI Film Festival, Pedro Costa introduced his latest documentary,
“Ne Change Rien,” expressing that he sought to make a film about the process
of creating music and in so doing, captured his friend, who, disillusioned with
the caliber of the roles offered to her as an actress, decided to pursue singing.
Being that Costa’s work usually focuses on the marginalized and poverty
stricken in his native Portugal, it is intriguing that his new subject is French
actress, Jeanne Balibar.
Widely known for her work on a range of international films, I fondly remember
Balibar for her performance as Antoinette in Jacques Rivette’s unrequited
love story, “The Duchess of Langeais.” Playing a 19th century high society lady
turned cloistered nun, she realizes her part with precision, passion, and a lingering
vulnerability.
Now in Costa’s creation, we see her play her self—a chain smoking, mysterious,
soulful eyed chanteuse with a profound commitment to her music. Not so far
removed from Antoinette, Balibar exhibits an intensity that is both fueled and
tortured by her relentless quest to find meaning in the everyday.
“Ne Change Rien” is about the condition of creating, about the trance-like qualities
of making music—about notes, rhythms, duration, pacing, friction, seduction, and misery.
Balibar and her collaborators create melodies which are dreamlike but also
terribly sad, about things such as the torture of love and the devil within. Costa
intimately shows us their practice and recording space, sinking, even drowning
deeply into their music as they sift through their own emotions.
Opening with the image of Balibar’s abstracted figure singing on stage
surrounded by a velvety darkness, Pedro Costa sets the scene for a film
which will take its time to reveal or perhaps never deliver a story, but with a beauty so
intense it is difficult to look away. The film’s pacing is slow, sometimes torturously so,
but honest in depicting the drudgery and obsession involved in the musical process.
Costa keeps us in our seats with his sophisticated, stunning black and white imagery,
which in itself is an inspiring study of the textural potential of DV to convey emotionally
charged images. In moments, I suspect Costa presses his fingers on his lens to add a
soft, organic, visceral haze around Balibar. Reminiscent of cinematography employed
by the great Hungarian filmmaker Béla Tarr, Costa’s chiaroscuro lighting intensifies
and heightens the presence of Balibar and her collaborators, as they record and drift
through their Paris studio. Contrasted, rich, and smoky, the texture of the projected imagery
is breathtaking—with rich blacks and shimmery whites creating a mood of polarities and
raw sensations.
Just as directors have filmed, even loved their actresses with bewitching
framing and lighting, so too does Costa. With long takes and extreme
close ups absorbing the resonance and breathes in between the group’s
music, he depicts Balibar with adoration. Perhaps in a trance himself, Costa
enables Balibar to keep us at a distance, her music a barrier in-between.
We experience her singing, compulsively repeating melodies, watching her
relate to her band mates, in a circular, never ending pattern that delivers no resolve.
Balibar’s voice is unconventional, seductive, and beautifully flawed. In her
quest to develop her singing, she takes classical lessons, straining her voice to
reach difficult notes. We are reminded of the demands of her practice, but also
question why this rebellious chanteuse even cares about traditional training,
ridden with rules and limitations she breaks in her experimental music.
It is clear that Balibar has a rigorous work ethic, desiring to be the best at her
craft, seeking to be able to star in an opera as much as she can a show.
“Ne Change Rien,” is a unique music documentary which pulls us into Balibar’s
world without compromise. Pedro Costa offers us a film which realistically,
hypnotically, depicts the creative lives of his subjects in their connect, disconnect,
beauty, and torture. He drags us through every detail, whether we like it or not.
Highlighting the often overlooked underworld of music, his mise-en-scène is
impressively cool and layered. The film leaves one feeling delirious,
but moved, with an appreciation for the efforts of artists to pursue their
dreams—maybe even the feeling that as an artist yourself, you
aren’t alone in your self-inflicted creative isolation.
Does anyone know if Criterion owns the rights to release this one? I need to start getting excited about a 2017 release, you know after they release The Remains of the Day, Persona and a million other boring or already available titles.
I doubt it Mike.
Really? The guy only has 7 features. I would have thought they might pick up his latest so they could follow up the Fontainhas Trilogy at some point.
Does anyone know if anyone has the rights to release this?
If you’re not attending the festival(s) where this is being shown, the chances of seeing it are quite slim. I will say it again, the internet seems to me to be the ideal source for distributing such work and it’s not. Why? At this point, channels for work whose prospects for commercial distribution is dim should have already been established.
Daniel, you’ve spoken with Costa. What did he envision for distribution?
This was photographed in standard definition, was it not? Amazing. The internet, as a portal for this kind of filmmaking, is not being maximized.
It’s true that the internet is an amazing resource— but honestly, after watching this on the large screen at the Mann’s theatre, that is really the way to see this. It’s a film that is so much about the look/texture—where the images have an overwhelming quality when projected that contributes largely to the strength of the film. It would be great if Criterion considered it, but I don’t think there’s a large enough audience—- I mean, Criterion doesn’t even carry Red Desert by Antonioni!!
Re distribution, I don’t believe the film has any—at least that was the census after the AFI screening a few weeks ago. But that’s not surprising when the screening itself wasn’t even half filled.
I doubt the the film will see light of day in theaters here, other than at universities and places like REDCAT or the Hammer Museum…
Sad, but true
Sounds like there is very little hope but I still see a possibility. After the Fontainhas Trilogy is released many of the people that worship the Criterion label more than they like films will suddenly see Costa as “important.” They won’t be able to resist having a gap in their collection. If the release is at all successful maybe…ah, who am I kidding, more than likely if they ever released another Costa it’ll be Casa De Lava.
When Costa’s 12th film is released on dvd, Ne Change Rein will be featured as an add-on.
He just did the top 10 list for Criterion this month so now may be more people will watch his films!
Adam Cook
Ne Change Rien is a brilliant look at music as an art form; as a job; as a way of life; as a form of expression. Pedro Costa has articulated the creative process behind recording and performing music through an art house film. A traditional documentary would not be able to say as much, and would lose some of the essence that Ne Change Rien has distilled, from what at face value is mundane candid footage. The aesthetic of the film is hypnotizing, and made all the more potent by the almost always present music.
We watch as a musician, Jeanne Balibar, and her band practice, perform and record several songs. Costa admirably does not editorialize at all. Every person who sees the film can impose their own meaning and surmise their own conclusions. I saw Ne Change Rien as a look at how the pure beauty of music has perhaps been tainted by improved technology and perfected recording techniques. I was reminded of Werner Herzog’s view of mountain climbers as people who steal the dignity of the mountains. Perhaps recording artists have tried too hard to reach perfection and conquer the organic aspects of music, and in the process have robbed its dignity.
Ne Change Rien is inexplicably affecting. Unlike mountain climbers, and unlike recording artists that put the emphasis on “recording” and not “artist”, Pedro Costa is not out to rob anything of its dignity, but instead to ennoble the cinema.