Early iteration of Bresson's awkward-yet-luminous underdog martyrs, trodden on by a hypocritical & mercenary society, poor in spirit & substance. Finding their way, despite cruelty, despite the camera's imposed austerity, despite Bresson's relentless precision - to the Sublime and transcendence. Leaving society to face its own shame... Bergman will riff on this one nicely, if less earnestly, later, in Winter Light.
Come in tutti i film di Bresson che ho visto, ritrovo anche qui quella calma irreale, quella recitazione rigida, didascalica (con qualcosa di teatrale, forse) che mi sembrano elementi costituenti e fondanti della sua poetica. Il protagonista ha il viso dolcissimo, inerme, esaltato di un santo.
I think I have problems with the coldness of Bresson's main characters (just like in "Pickpocket") which keeps me away from full involvement in movie-watching process although the narrative is surprisingly exciting. It seems that the thoughts of the main actor dominate over his emotions which, at times, makes it difficult to get truly absorbed in the film. Something to watch again and again to "get it" completely.
The discontinuity of an individual: despair of the image, despair of sound, despair of the text. The image outlives its voice, and the duration of the text is an endless rupture...there is nowhere to begin the trace of difference, the sign of the protagonist was written before language... and its final, blind smile will always dream that it was imperceptible.