Leos Carax has been a minor favourite for some years (minor in the sense that he's not been prolific, understandable given the nature and quality of his work), since having the privilege of seeing retrospective of his work at Cork's annual French Film Festival.
The year was (I think) 2000, the venue the now sadly defunct Kino, where many a gem was aired; truly the jewel of the Real Capital's cinematic alternatives. It was the only fully independent arthouse cinema in Ireland.
His excellent earlier works (Boy Meets Girl, Mauvais Sang and Pola X) have in common some of the finest lyrical and atmospheric cinematography of modern times, and a credible, yet comparatively conventional preoccupation with young love. Holy Motors represents a departure for the director; fractured, in places richly colouful (recalling Terence Malick's The Tree of Life) and lacking a discernable plot, which of course, is no bad thing.
Denis Lavant alternates as a beggar, agent of industrial espionage, savage, assassin, modern father, moribund parent and other things in this rather inexplicable (in a good way) film. It's remarkable for its sheer variety, colourfulness and nonsensicalness.
As one would expect, the cinematography and photography are top-rate stuff.
No comments:
Post a Comment