...what's that old saying?? Something about a 'tangled web one weaves, when one practices to deceive'? Consider the pathological liar: The tales rendered, often outrageous and dazzling...even manipulative...though with an element of truth, which genuinely supports the fantasique fervor of the story told. Favorable focus on the storyteller...even to the point of 'superhuman' empowerment, or an incredibly sheltered naivete; they are the hero in their tales, or perhaps the hapless, unknowing victim. The surprisingly keen ability to weave a fantastical, seemingly supportive tale, right on the spot, given the clear urgency of the situation...though, that's where that aforementioned 'tangled web' comes into play, when the story becomes so convoluted with falsehood, it begins to fray, and come unraveled. And of course, there's the motive...the 'hanging carrot' clockwork reasoning that drives the recipient listener of the complex and intricate fabrication into potentially believing the manipulative teller of the tale...
...in director Alain Robbe-Grillet's brazenly artful, enigmatic and self-telling 1968 mystery/drama, "The Man Who Lies"...a joint French/Czechoslovakian production...does the film's mysterious and manipulative protagonist, rightly fit the definition, as suggested above?? Or is there method to the ensuing madness, as enigmatically depicted in the following 'tangled web' proceedings??...
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Showing posts with label Alain Robbe-Grillet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alain Robbe-Grillet. Show all posts
April 10, 2014
Movie Review: L’immortelle (1963, Blu-ray)
How can one accurately review a film that is inherently beyond criticism? The screenwriter behind the prototypical art-house snoozer Last Year at Marienbad (1961), Alain Robbe-Grillet bravely goes beyond mere cinematic syntax to drag the viewer through a series of tableaux that are by themselves beyond comprehension. Seeing that this probably wouldn’t have sold tickets, Robbe-Grillet had the good sense to hire the frostily beautiful Françoise Brion and hinge the story on “kind of, sort of” sexual acts.
A morose-looking professor (Jacques Doniol-Valcroze) arrives in Istanbul. He’s glum and forlorn, a Stranger in a Strange Land. Aforementioned pretty lady (Françoise Brion) gives him a lift. He informs here that he is in Istanbul for the next two years. They go to a party. The camera drifts over several people, they get and leave, the camera is obscured by people walking in front of it, etc. We learn that the professor’s name is Andre. Not knowing anyone, he asks his newfound female friend to translate Turkish. “I don’t know a word of Turkish,” she says, and then turns around and uses perfect Turkish to a tour guide. The professor confronts her and she says something to the effect of “I don’t know Turkish, I only know how to speak Turkish when I talk to the Turks.” I have no idea.
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