Another great passes on. The man deserves a larger tribute than I am able to produce at this time. I’ll leave it to the better minds here to come up with an appropriate homage.
Chris Marker dead at 91
It’s in French.
I’m so sad. :(
Letter from Siberia is the best film by him I’ve seen. Have to see Cuba Si!, but so hard to find. Sans Soleil is, for me, overrated.
Very sad news. Could we please leave the “overrated” talk beside for today?
I never would have thought the word overrated would be used in a Chris Marker thread.
RIP Marker. Thanks for the incredible filmography. :(
VERY VERY sad news…A REAL ARTIST!
A true visionary gone…sad.
Not only was he one of the greatest directors to walk this planet, but one cannot begin to understand the 20th century – its obsessions, its horrors, its tragedies – without his films.
“… I know the word that will describe men like you: dinosaurs. But look what happened to dinosaurs - kids love ’em.” - THE LAST BOLSHEVIK
See you soon, C.M.
He write us all from a distant land…
Rest in peace, Chris Marker. 29 July 1921 – 29 July 2012.
watching La jetée for the first time in Paris will forever be my favorite cinematic experience.
fucking bad news, i will miss you forever magic marker
Out of all the losses we’ve incurred through the past year this one seems especially tragic, maybe because he always seemed like he would live forever…
Goodbye to the creator of ashtonshing pieces like “Lettre de Sibérie”, “Sans Soleil”, “Le Joli Mai”, and the surprising “Immemory” multimedia work.
“Nothing sorts out memories from ordinary moments. Later on they do claim remembrance when they show their scars.” RIP
Merci, monsieur Marker.
En paz descanse. Rest in peace.
Finally his language touches me, because he talks to that part of us which insists on drawing profiles on prison walls. A piece of chalk to follow the contours of what is not, or is no longer, or is not yet; the handwriting each one of us will use to compose his own list of ‘things that quicken the heart,’ to offer, or to erase. In that moment poetry will be made by everyone, and there will be emus in the ‘zone.’
He writes me from Japan. He writes me from Africa. He writes that he can now summon up the look on the face of the market lady of Praia that had lasted only the length of a film frame.
Will there be a last letter?
Those lines from Marker’s Sans Soleil, reverberate and that last line lingers as I hear the sad news of his passing, tragic to say the least.
Thanks for that, monsieur Ehrenstein.