It's as Deleuze says: the secret of movement is that when something moves, everything changes. Only then is it truly movement.
Sometimes you remember that "chamber" and "camera" are two words with the same etymological root. The concept of the camera originally signified a type of room, always a room enclosed by a roof, which allowed one to see things differently. "I was too much," Vanda says, "I was always forgetting things." In the rooms of this film, gently but insistently, the camera is able to touch its forgotten origins. Still, Costa's word, not "chamber" or "room" but "quarter," is perhaps…
The filmmakers of the L.A. Rebellion were unequivocal: "Our task is to reconstruct cultural memory, not slavishly imitate white models."
Julie Dash films with intensity, empathy, and, above all, that ~certain something~ that might be called "lyricism," or maybe "poeticism," or even "sensualism." These are all words that I'd associate closely with Malick and that tender, dreamlike grandiosity he tends to shoot for. But I would hesitate to apply these words to Dash; she's on a different level entirely.