What a coincidence for me to talk about Last Tango in Paris with a friend the same day I watched Les Hautes solitudes; they may seem completely different, but they are also very similar; both are battles between counter-cultures. Here the old, hopeful French new wave (Seberg) and the disenfranchised underground French cinema that followed in their footsteps (Nico, Garrel). You're so cute when you're frustrated, dear.
I get the motivations behind the absence of sound, but it represents something that does not exist. To convey pain and suffering you might want to opt for contrasts and dissonances. Otherwise, it becomes dull in its being a representation overwhelmingly concerned with just one thing. For instance, add to a sad face by the window a soundtrack of birds singing, child voices, and an unseen summer blooming outside. *cry
"When you think the night has seen your mind / That inside you're twisted and unkind / Let me stand to show that you are blind / Please put down your hands / Cause I see you / I'll be your mirror / I'll be your mirror / I'll be your mirror..." Juego de luces y gestos. Garrel, el único capaz de ponernos un rostro enfrente y dejarnos ver, con una belleza casi translúcida y helada, todo lo que los labios no nos dicen.
Or perhaps fragments of a film long lost, the soundtrack only your memories of the actor's voices, the screenplay a few scratches on some yellowed and tattered sheets. But it is enough to make you yearn for the finished project. Sadly you can only fill in the spaces with your dreams. Perhaps that is enough.
Beautifully shot, offering plenty of powerful and stunning scenes. Interesting approach to the "subject", an experiment, and to some extent a document. All this sounds great, and I was visually pleased watching the film; however, even though it was filled with suffering and desperation I couldn't find a connection with the people portrayed, not exactly sure why actually...
3,8/5 Une vraie expérience : la beauté, la femme, la communication par le visage et les postures... L'absence de son oblige à la concentration, la contemplation, à être ultrasensible aux détails visuels. On pense aux expériences d'un Warhol ou à celles qu'un Cédric aurait dû faire avec un panda...
Time + camera as psychic scalpel. An emotional autopsy in bas relief. Jean Seberg's face as screen for an exhibit of sadnesses not yet hardened into strata, vying for position, surfacing & being reabsorbed; a parade of disappointments. Life. (And what's a screen if not a mirror?) And the rest? An aestheticization of the arbitrary? Beautiful shots of beautiful people. Maybe it could've been anything... 3.5
La période la plus expérimentale de Garrel : plus d'histoire ou de progression claire, seulement des êtres soumis à la dérive dépressive et mélancolique, scrutés au plus près de leurs émotions changeantes, dans un noir et blanc instable et silencieux qui les éloigne encore, nous obligeant à deviner ce qu'ils se disent. Triste et lent, un peu trop long, mais Jean Seberg, Tina Aumont et Nico étaient si belles... (3,5)
Faces are one of the means of making movies, so far so good. But while they may also be among its ends, it's kind of begging the question to treat them as an „only end“ – however pretty, however charismatic, however „speaking“ these faces might be. Even for an experimental movie.
So sweet and so bitter at the same time. This is an uncommon biographical film by Philippe Garrel. We would know his emotion at that time through changeable aspects of two women who had loved him and had been loved by him. Silence and colorless images stir my emotion and make me look for something which I had lost long before.
On est loin du classique pseudo-documentaire sur quelques figures du milieu cinématographique de l'époque des années 1970, mais presque à une séquence analytique sur fond de béhaviorisme. Hélas l'ensemble transpire une gênante et rude forme d'aridité qui, dépassée peut générer une forte fascination épisodique... www.cinefiches.com
Jean Seberg has a great face for close-ups. This silent, Warholesque film-portrait of her (and a few friends) couldn't maintain my interest alone but with my own music soundtrack playing it was fitfully diverting. Les Hautes Solitudes is at its best when Seberg makes direct eye contact through the lens and we are pulled into her emotional orbit. Overall though: flat and unengaging. Better on the big screen?
(.5 star) Shots of actors sitting, sleeping, watching, staring. Oh, how enlightening. This is not a film. I don't care what the pretentious few will claim. I'm SO TIRED of that rhetoric. No matter how much so-called MEANING you try to jam into this, it's not there. It's not entertaining. It's not something that one can "enjoy the silence" of. Ridiculous, pretentious, and cinematic snobbery at its highest peak.