An artistic couple, Marie and Walter, try to survive with their daughter in the midst of a Buenos Aires fantasia: Andersen’s little match girl, Bresson’s donkey, a Red Army terrorist, Ennio Morricone, and Helmut Lachenmann trying to stage an opera with the orchestra of the Teatro Colón on strike.
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As a big fan of composer Helmut Lachenmann I feel I am primed to love THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL in a way people unfamiliar w/ him cannot possibly be. The film's final scene is profound and unexpectedly moving to me; the weighty last line will be all but meaningless to many. Perhaps some pre-study is mandatory. The film at times reminded me of Guerín's ACADEMY OF MUSES, but Moguillansky's touch is notably lighter.
PC. 3,5. Materializes a metallinguistic plan, announced early in its initial time, with slight drift and fluent narrativity, which is increasingly articulated in dialogue with memory and its references, including those of the cinema itself. Not expository, mostly ironic - for instance, in two distinct sequences, is used Morricone's music in a specific writing way, diegetically, 1st indirectly, 2nd in the scene,
A rumination on this, that and the other? Or a show-off play-acting? Both, but there’s the problem: Moguillansky feathers his nest with too many strands. Thus interpolations of Andersen, left-wing politics, a wink to Bresson, a nod to Baader Meinhof and on it goes... How can you square the Red Army with Schubert or Agnes Varda? It’s a trolley-dash grabbing cultural and political references and hoping they’ll stick.
It’s a movie that lives at the porous boundary between 'playful' and 'serious.' Cinema reveals itself as the kind of joke children enjoy and then dream of in the after-hours: the donkey from ‘Au Hasard Balthasar’ is your family friend, and the music of Ennio Morricone a tender history of lullabies. In removing one mask, the film reveals another, more ecstatic one—the sediment of many years, struggle-adjacent.
This is a delightfully playful "remix" of the tale that gives its name to the title of the movie, but there are a few too many moments that feel as if they are setting something up, only to then be moved away from. The cast do well though, and it's a short and well-paced little flick.
This avant-garde motley of Bresson, classical music, RAF, anti-capitalism, among other references, aims (but fails) to come to grips with great art's respect for reality's ontological depth and dignity vs the pressure to subsume it under a world-view. The homage is below expectations (a really weak Villar; Jakob, too), the shots contrived, the style concocted. The final message applies critically to the film itself.
En efecto, al inicio me pareció muy pretenciosa y estuve a punto de abandonarla, pero después de veinte minutos se me hizo más interesante y la terminé. Es la versión fílmica de un diario personal. Será también una crítica al sistema cultural argentino ? El comentario final sobre la música de vanguardia es válido para buena parte del arte contemporáneo.