Archives for posts with tag: genre: sumptuous whimsy

“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.

Read the rest of this entry »

Advertisements

As I seem to belabour in every ‘review’ here, cinema is not merely for the eyes. It is a veritable feast for all senses, and persists long after the final frame is passed; lingering like the scent of saffron in a wafting breeze, and the draught of vintage (“that hath been cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth…”). The second collaboration between Vincent Paronnaud and Marjane Satrapi is a whimsical and sensuous one, and there is hardly a more richly satisfying and heartfelt film of this year than Poulet aux prunes.

Read the rest of this entry »