What I found interesting about the dreamlike L'immortelle, aside from its evocative cinematography, was its innovative soundtrack, which at first listen might seem chaotic, but the various sound effects reflect those experiences when one incorporates external sounds into their dreams, and thus those sounds influence the course, emotional state, and, in the case of the dogs, the fate of the dream.
A dense mental labyrinth of self-loathing and destructive l'amour fou. It may also be a ghost story. The shock edits, the discord between sound and image, and image against image, tell us there is an unspoken code of violence being perpetrated in stillness and silence - it's beautiful stuff.
four stars for white gaze. But amazing film, beautiful still shots. Kudos to Mubi curation, this film is right on time and yes it feels like history is repeating itself in a way. A story of a man; a tourist, a frenchman, a white man, caught in the time-warped-peaceful zones (that all whiteness must live in in), right up against the edge of his teetering reality. Damsel straddles the line of his reality and the Others
L'Immortelle creates an atmosphere of mystery. Beautifully shot in black and white, the film's character delves into the territory of dream and memory, as captured by the powerful performance of the Mysterious Woman. While decidedly slow, the sharply framed shots and the surreal character of the movie's repeated and recontextualized elements give both ambiguity and interpretation to this interesting work.
17 years after the second world war, 8 years after Dien Bien Fu, 1 year after the Algerian Revolution and those damned French are already assuming an arrogant posture. I suppose it takes a certain emotional detachment to come to terms with ones place in history. But compare this to the neo-realism of the Italians who had no choice but to look their world in the eyes. Give me Rossellini, De Sica or Fellini any day.
I don't know of another film that makes more tangible the theory that the cinematic gaze is male and that which is being gazed upon, the object of desire, obscure or otherwise, female. Fragmented and almost elliptical the film also explores Robbe-Grillet's obsessions with memory and reality and the illusion of time. Beautifully rendered in scenes of surreal sensuality and dream desire.
Though filmed in a style that launched a thousand parodies, this is not (entirely) the work of an intelligent dilettante. It's a real movie, generating a considerable amount of erotic tension and aesthetic pleasure. Much of it anticipates ideas and tropes developed further by Kubrick, Polanski and Lynch. In short, while it's not Resnais or Rivette, it is a worthwhile piece of film art, and I liked it a lot.
A characteristically ornate elegy for authenticity, reduced, arguably, to a dated, somewhat campy curiosity by its exoticizing orientalism and its vexed relation--an enervating cocktail of awe, despair, and feigned aloofness--to the ostensibly Eternal Feminine. But I'm a sucker for this sort of thing, so I liked it.