All the films from all the editions, including those subsequently removed, presently totalling 1177. An easy way of seeing how…
Last Year at Marienbad
Takes place in a chateau, an ambiguous story of a man and a woman who may or may not have met last year at Marienbad.
Self-indulgent cinema at its most beautiful. I wanted to love this because duh, but I hated it because also duh. It goes nowhere, it fails to create any kind of atmosphere, and the "nightmare" it portrayed was a pretty tame nightmare. I once had a nightmare where my penis turned into a snake and ate my butt. Make a movie about that.
Deconstructing cinema much in the way Bresson wanted to do but in more grand fashion. It is akin to the Dadaist art movement of anti-art, breaking the rules and destroying the notion of what we perceive as true art. Perhaps not fully to that extent but Resnais clearly experiments with the medium of cinema in a way majorly unaccepted and ironically it becomes the focal point of where the film's greatness lies.
Last Year at Marienbad begins with repetitive and poetic narration ominously filling the air of the long empty corridors and parlors it softly speaks of. In the first few opening scenes alone it is apparent Resnais is ready to deliver something entirely unique to the world of cinema.…
Set within the confines of a grand château, Last Year at Marienbad is a vessel of half-memories and never-ending corridors. It's a black and white nightmare refusing to flow smoothly as all of its elements face off in a tremendous aesthetic battle. Organ music pummels into dialogue, distracting from dense and repetitive conversations, and making it impossible to fully comprehend a grounded reality. The film has its own space, its own temporality, and everything is completely folded into the inescapable setting.
Despite being frequently labelled as ambiguous and surrealist, Last Year at Marienbad can be read in quite basic terms when stripped down. It's always seemed to me that the film attempts to depict the aftermath of a tragic affair…
Warning: There might be spoilers ahead.
My first venture into Alain Resnais' filmography couldn’t possibly have left a better impression. As great as straight forward structures can be, it's films like Last Year at Marienbad that give cinema such a unique identity and the ability to tell a story in a way that no other medium can. I like ambiguous films, but it’s the experimental nature on top that really makes this a special piece of work. I don’t really know how to review a movie that often completely ignores typical movie conventions, instead I’m going to talk about observations I made regarding the content, style and what impression they left me with.
Last Year at Marienbad is a film…
'El año pasado en Marienbad' es la película enigma definitiva. Todo el conocimiento que se desprende del relato es parcial, semioculto tras capas y capas de no se sabe bien qué. Inasible más allá de la sensación; imposible de definirse entre el sueño, la pura fantasía, el delirio, el metacine. Él (el hombre, X) no puede dejar de narrar y narrar(se), pero su relato topa con la falta de memoria, de referencias, incluso con la pura incomprensión, de ella (la mujer, A). Como si la película tuviera una lógica onírica que no puede verbalizarse, como un sueño que tiene todo el sentido en el mundo onírico pero que lo pierde cuando se intenta poner en palabras.
Puro ‘fantastique’, la película…
"Why don't you still want to remember anything?" ~ X
The trailers announcing this film promised moviegoers a new cinematic experience, "better than 3-D, better than widescreen," putting the viewer at the center of a love story and a mystery. It would require us to come up with our own answers about the truth of various scenes and what really happened at Marienbad a year ago. Right away, we know this is going to be avant-garde filmmaking. Fortunately, having already experienced one film by director Alain Resnais, "Hiroshima Mon Amour," I thought I had some idea of what I as getting into.
It doesn't help at all, of course, that the characters have no names or clear relationships. They are…
It's rare that I love a film as complex upon a first watchings. Usually, it takes me multiple viewings to catch everything, and I slowly raise my grade up to the sanctified A+ level. And with a film as artistic and utterly confusing as this one, I am utterly shocked to be giving it my highest grade. The me of a year ago would absolutely hate this film, labelling it "boring", "nonsensical", and "pointless". But I loved it.
Perhaps the best word to describe it is "haunting". Though it's a Resnais film, I felt it had more in common with The Shining than Hiroshima mon amour. Perhaps it's because I had just watched the former, but the similarities I found…
How does one rate a film like this? On a substantial level there isn't much to account for, as the film deliberately distances itself from conventional narratology and every form of interpretation. The relationship between the leads, centering around a would-be love affair, is nonsensical. Characters talk like citing lines from a poem. Resnais probably intended this to be more of an experience, with delightful cinematography to boast. Melting Lynchian mysticism with a Welles-like finesse.
I play with my hair a lot.
But a good movie makes me afraid to move.
Last Year at Marienbad made me afraid to move... and then it kept going.
I don't think I'm going to rate this. The film is about an idea more than its about a story, which makes it both interesting and endlessly frustrating. The camerawork is dreamy. The repeated dialogue forces deja vu on the audience. I don't think the pay off was that satisfying. This is something I'm going to have to chew over and revisit in like a year.
Is it delusion or conflation or are they both the same? Nothing ever feels like a filmic reveal but each new shot is a revelation. Who needs visual effects when you have the warping of a wide lens at your disposal? The first "real" dialogic interaction is the explaining and playing of a game and the film continues in suit.
How a story can be narrated by a poem? By literary images and real images, Alain Resnais does it. The rhythm of the film catches the spectator and it’s narrative grabs our hearts. When the film is finished, I wasn’t the same person any more. Resnais didn’t considered himself as part of the nouvelle vague, and this picture tells why. The director probably learned his mistakes after doing another piece of art: Hiroshima Mon Amour. The little pieces of reality that A.R. shows in his film made me think about the concept of time that he shows. A time that is present and future, and the present is just an excuse to make art.
What is memory? The ability to remember, the act of remembering, the act of recording experiences to be saved for later recollection, this is all what mankind labels “memory,” but memory is not a filing cabinet, storing and retrieving memories with ease and perfection. It is akin to a child writing in the sand, knowing that the waves will lap against the scratches and render any words either unreadable or almost fatally warped, but writing nonetheless.
Last Year at Marienbad brings this fundamental inherent conflict of mankind (the conflict of what one has been, and thus of what one is) to life, presenting to us a hotel where the hallways, corridors, ballrooms, bedrooms, paths, gardens, and decorations evoke a nostalgia…
oh my GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH my god
Recently, I've become aware that certain films are able to transcend the medium by being completely self-assured in their atmospheres…