Garrel’s stark lyricism seems naturally suited to his trademark black and white—however, his work with color is equally poignant. The Wind of the Night is an unequivocally Garrelian look at the inescapable vulnerability of being human, showing us a side of Madame Deneuve we’re not used to seeing.
The profound melancholy running through the veins of Garrel’s work makes it achingly intimate. Here the French master of romanticism delves into his signature themes of broken love and longing to question the place of men in the world, with Léaud & Castel unforgettably embodying the passage of time.
Described by Garrel himself as “a film made out of the outtakes of a film that never existed,” this is a silent, transfixing portrait shot on elegiac black and white recalling Andy Warhol’s famed screen tests. Brace yourself for a prophetic, utterly poignant scene foreshadowing Jean Seberg’s death.
The first feature length film by our retrospective focus, Philippe Garrel, is a cinematic conflagration and re-invention of Biblical storytelling for a culture and an audience having just passed through the convulsions of May ’68. Unabashedly radical and ambitious, with an epoch-defining cast.
We are delighted to launch a new retrospective devoted to the poetic cinema of auteur Philippe Garrel, whose new film debuts in Cannes this month. We begin in Garrel’s feracious 20s with the first film he made with the radical Zanzibar art collective. Silent and haunting: a dream in black and white.