It may be that the need to make beauty has reinforced the decision of how to film and in that sense limited it, because that need is exposed and demonstrated in every moment. However, the beginning is actually quite beautiful, but in a productive manner with an inner speech organically flowing with a sequence-shot. At the end, with the direct interview, the film finds its true discourse.
A melancholy meditation on art & revolution post 70s & on idealism, with an aging revolutionary reflecting on his past fervour & his life in film & politics (which for him are the same thing). There's a sense of a Keatsian 'passionate defeat' in its juxtaposition of violent youthful dreams of utopia against the surreal placid cityscapes of Tokyo, but the film consistently transmutes political feelings into spiritual
It takes a little while to adjust to a Grandrieux documentary of sorts, rather than a feature. This is mostly due to this film's aural-visuals being far less irate and sensory compared to his previous work, but once you acclimatise, the result is surprisingly intimate, political and gorgeous... seriously gorgeous.