Indie Lisboa # 23. And i was at the cinema, but ... after the "Balthasar" in the opening scene - to which we return at the end, composing the trivial circularity - i continued to see Bresson, often, with a solemn affection that confirms this filmmaker's growing drift towards a questionable "gravitas".
For common people this is just another too long anti-tobacco commercial. But, first of all, sacred remembrance on Ozu, Bresson or Tarkovsky could not be disturbed from McBook Air cushioned in someone's lap, while dreaming in super comfy leather sofa - how wonderful would be to play nihilism, one warm afternoon in the big city. Hell, NO. Nihilism is a man in old shoes, pissed by a rain and blinded by a wind, think ab.
I was moved by The Dreamed Path and though this has a more linear narrative (well) I found its rigour less evocative. For starters the Hamlet scenes add a density that never quite worked, and the acting monologue is terrific but a thorny bush as to how it applies to this film.
Never has an incomplete title been more appropriate than in this film about a single mother's depression. Unfortunately ambiguity slides into obtuse associative logic: scenes of the mother alternate with children performing Hamlet & a dog and donkey in an abandoned house, all of it weighted down by leaden pacing. Some powerful scenes centre on the mother's breakdown. But great moments do not a good film make.
Ein spröder, zusammengestückelt-abstrakter, anstrengender, künstlicher, abstruser Film. Wie auch sein Titel und die Gesellschaft, in der er spielt.
Die Figuren herzlich und verletzlich, oft verloren. Es werden mehr Fragen aufgeworfen als beantwortet, aber das ist auch irgendwie egal und schön so. Maren Eggert spielt hinreißend!