Sternberg lights a room and we find its spiritual essence; Eustache does the same and we see its absence.
I think Rejtman particularly affects those familiar with a specific kind of urban alienation. It's neither claustrophobic nor agoraphobic. Instead it's a somnambulant daily routine governed by minor impulses; a mundane erotic power trip of anonymity that's maybe intensified among friends and lovers who could care less.
Devoting a single, otherwise disparaging and dismissive paragraph to the film, Perkins biographer Charles Winecoff ends his discussion of this apparent Last Year at Marienbad spoof by declaring, "The most interesting scenes in the film are those in which Perkins appears shirtless, displaying the impressive fruits of his rigid dieting and bodybuilding."
Upon witnessing the quality of Geraldine Chaplin's performance (raw, mysterious, and most impressive to Perkins, real) while filming Remember My Name, Perkins was reduced to tears. He threatened…
Further evidence that no space in Rivette is not empty, not haunted, even when occupied. Here it's a mansion full of characters strewn apart by the mingling of failed past relationships and presently precarious ones. The autobiographical play that was meant to rewrite history ends up renewing it. A key one hopes is the key to a heart is in fact the unwanted freedom to come and go. Some, however, know the burden of being locked in a room. The…