“Man becomes aware of the sacred because it manifests itself, shows itself, as something wholly different from the profane.”

Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane (1957)

(adapted from thoughts scribbled some years ago)

Every so often (but not too often), a film comes along that makes one wonder whether the director has some special key to the doorway of one’s very imagination; as if the images one sees in one’s head have been transposed onto a film strip and projected for the world to see. It is gloriously and frighteningly intimate, and that is precisely the film Niki Caro has made. From the very first scene, a pair of delicately beautiful white hands pouring a glass of wine and holding it to the lips of an aged man. There are no faces and no voices, only images and sound; an ambient evocation of reading the novel itself.

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