Showing posts with label rivette. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rivette. Show all posts

1.6.23

out 1


that out 1 sprawls across hours and the way it sprawls compels many reviewers to comment the films about time but out 1 sprawls not just in linear time comparatively ie to other films and should they be our only comparison but in desire melancholy joy langwich irreality and reality concept caprice dream out 1 is about time but its also about film spirit imagination art convention and certainly gleefully seductively about itself celine and julie though a third out 1s length sprawls equally we could say that a definition of great art is that it aesthetically-psychically sprawls and aims to sprawl to vastly inhabit the sprawling meat of god


around the strange and strangely normal cult of the 13 the two seekers frederique and colin orbit and intersect both children of carroll both outliers both of the mad tribe their intuitive truth that somethings going on and no one really knows even those in the in who are no more in than anyone else what it is and they take on their quest like a poetic vocation frederique follows the bio arc from nonexistence through life to death while colin follows the spiritual arc from silence to voice and eros to silence out 1 quietly affirms the mad their methods and their truths


but it is not just the dreams of the outliers that die all dreams die theatre community love money truth all dreams but the dream of dream


of course it all happens in a bubble even frederique never seems too troubled by reality other than in her encounter with the thug and pauline-emilie who worries about how to pay the rent of her cafe lives in relative splendour at home and seems to do whatever she pleases even when she has constant background anxiety about the whereabouts of her elusive husband this bubble though lives a potency that upends the supremacy of the dominant clunky bubbles of society politics sports knowledge religion love


out 1 could only have followed the elucidation of °pataphysics and perhaps was far more likely to have taken place in its birthspot one can imagine frederique using jarrys very own revolver in those inimitable gun scenes which like the shootings in episode 3 of la flor are innocent and come no closer to violence than anything else in the film other than the one aforementioned bar scene which simultaneously somehow is the most realistic of films and the most unrealistic


its conversations gestures egoistic concerns make everything ive participated in artificial it breaks out of this occasionally as in the exchange between sarah and pauline-emilie on the bed at obade but then the mirror is mediating what we hear and how we hear it


no centre no hierarchy other than of the moment everything undercut hubbub undercuts emptiness and emptiness hubbub intrigue and emotion dancing to nothings choreographies no one is right or wrong evil or good deranged or reputable there are no criteria for deciding theatre and life snark and institution everything and everything becoming so entwined and confused we wonder how we can distinguish anything without labelling ourselves clinically insane and the 13 their inarticulate dream lost dismissed fragmented


and the conversations the wonderful conversations if only we would talk like this in life without ground or anchor between warok and frederique thomas etienne and lucie the children and the turtle lucie and warok renaud and frederique colin and colin the postimprov analyses of the promethean troupe frederique and everyone who needs the academy or media or the endless alt channels to expound anything this is shakespearean in its breadth depth wit and wink forest and court subversion of all normalcy by leaping into the eye and heart of the commons and like the typical shakespearean arc of moving into dream and nightmare then returning to routinized exigency and the monster of factive production so out 1 enters the hallucination of affixes meta pata and leaves us with thomas as a hysterical lucid abdicant alone and bereft on the beach of a reality we can no longer trust no leaves us with marie alone and a bit lost with an indifferent athena impassively towering


the flow of relation the characters in their ebbing and toing disappearing reappearing become increasingly distinctive and interchangeable melding into one another a gabby hydra of life electric spinning circumambulating bodies on an edgeless billiard table with no cues or pockets other than the despair death voicelessness that begird all things


it sits alongside la flor on the same field of play as a gaseous plasmatic monument to filmic and psychic alterity as a completely different way of doing cinema of building experimental radicality into the heart of the mind of narrative and so placing narrative on the altar in the holy of holies of the temple of convention and sacrificing it right there in front of everyone and the world so comprehensively busy with its folderols and coitalities not only doesnt notice but cant for long ago it swapped its eyes for fandangles


and unlike eg bergmans shorter cuts of his fanny & alexander and scenes from a marriage which are distinctly inferior to the longer versions rivettes 4 hour out 1 spectre is as enticing as the 13 hour screening although the latter is the one that must be watched


out 1 fulfills our deep yearning to crawl from life into art to fully enter that pessoan dream of the perfect union of beauty intensity and meaninglessness almost all other films are cliche beside it certainly the flatulent mcproducts of hollywood and their global cousins and id be finally happy if i could join that absurd theatre and watch the ineffable numinous i circulate endlessly with these celluloid spirits in the circumferenceless abyss of langwich and longing