critic // bylines in mubi notebook, photogénie, screen slate, ultra dogme, the quietus, in review online, little white lies, etc etc
‘“Well then, what impression did I make on you in my own picture frame?" I said.
We were in the room in the Via Gorizia, and I was lying on the bed. Tommasino was sitting up to the table with his elbows on it, and smoking.
"An unfavorable impression, yes?" I said.
"And I,” he said, "what impression did I make in your picture frame?" he said.
"You are always in my frame," I said. "You never leave it.
To make a film gently expand outwards, simply have the characters walk to and from their jobs, and run into different people along the way. The doctors are the locus of all the film’s incident, but that doesn’t mean life ceases without them, as evidenced by that beautiful ending.
Neo-neorealism, because what is modern realism if not outwardly acknowledging the process that allows it to claim such a distinction? Like the photo-negative of Rossellini’s Europa ’51, a paragon of status and celebrity only achieves more, following a fairly quotidian accident that leaves Léa Seydoux internally shaken nevertheless. The ubiquitous desire to manufacture and package “the real” drives this entire film, each marvelous smash/match-cut a continued compounding of facilitated distances within spaces that only continue to encroach upon one another: war zones and resorts, the newsroom and the field, the camera and “the camera”.