This might be considered Peter Bo Rappamund's most political film by virtue of its framing the US / Mexico border culture as a de-peopled, innocent landscape; a tabula rasa upon which can be inscribed the residue of human drama and the contestation of space that inform are knowledge of this landscape. It is a beautiful movie and a solemn one. We are swallowed up by space upon which we seek to assert our dominion.
I know how to read a film, I don't have the vocab to read visual art. Treating this as an installation, I couldn't keep still long enough for one sitting, but this was an in-fucking-credible silently-raging-but-tranquil feast. I want it on replay on a plasma screen on the walls of my home.
Beautiful absurdity. To watch this film is both a treat for the eyes and a debacle to contemplate. The colors and images were marvelous; the notion of a fence of such rusted magnitude was bewildering. My favourite border indication was the row of tiny red flags in a field...
This should be half as long and twice as pure, or twice as long and half as pure. Better than Psychohydrography, Rappmund's weak spots are still 3: (1) sound. He interjects emotional soundtracks in spaces that should just have site-recorded sound. (2) Framing. His eye is ambivalent -- is it history or abstract form? The former builds social critique, the latter dehistoricizes. (3) Titles. They fish for metaphor.
Where I found "Psychohydrography" to be mesmerizing both visually and audibly this left me completely flat. There was a distance/disinterest to the shots that struck me as the maker going through the motions without any attachment to what his camera was pointing at. A real disappointment.
Happé par la minutieuse beauté des plans, je me suis laissé embarquer dans le dispositif - plus photographique que réellement cinématographique - de Rappmund. Souligné par une subtile bande-son, chaque plan nous invite à penser l'idée de Frontière, dans toute sa dimension poétique et politique. Le film constitue par ailleurs une fabuleuse compilation de photographies de paysages révélés en mode "time lapse".
Des paysages et des paysages et des paysages et des paysages. A la 8ème minute j'ai attendu un daim, mais non, aucun être vivant, même pas une femme, que des paysages et des paysages et des paysages. Landscapes and landscapes and landscapes and landscapes and landscapes. At the 8th minute I expected a deer, but no, no living being, no even a woman, just landscapes and landscapes and landscapes and landscapes !
Another beautiful montage cleverly creating movement from still shots. Breathtaking natural beauty scarred by mankind's footprints. (Yet Trump wants to make it worse by building a wall all the way across this border; a wall under which secret tunnels will no doubt be dug?)
There is a beauty about desolation that Rappmund is keenly aware of. He lingers just long enough on an image for it expand into a concept. Turning his sights more on land this time and the land that falls between boundaries, the film looks at what it means to be in a state of in between. His idiosyncratic style does well to translate this to the viewer. He pulls back the covers on his methodology here which I enjoy.
Who selects these films for Mubi? Everyone who subscribes is into art-house yes, but are these types that are here now really watched beginning to end by anyone? Really? Does this hold attention? I love art but c'mon. Getting frustrated with some of the selection here. Anyone else? Psychohydrography is the other one out this month that is just like this nonsense.