Review: Eternity and a Day

DVD Review: Eternity and a Day

Dir: Theodoros Angelopoulos

Runtime: 137 mins

Genre: Drama / Tragedy

Country: Greece / France / Germany / Italy

Language: Greek w/ English subtitles

Eternity and a Day is a sumptuous, Palme d’Or winning tragedy form renowned Greek director Theodoros Angelopoulos. Like many of Angelopoulos’ films, Eternity and a Day focuses on themes such as nationhood, identity and exile, age, loss and death experiments with a non-linear timeline.

Alexander, a famous and successful writer, has lived a long and fulfilled life. Now in his autumn years, he has the misfortune of seeing all he’s accumulated fade away before his eyes; first his wife, then his family home, his work and finally his health and vitality. Terminally ill with days to live, a chance encounter with a young boy slowly restores Alexander’s focus.

The boy is an orphaned Albanian immigrant, scraping a living by washing car windscreens at traffic lights. As Alexander’s car draws to the lights, the sound of sirens fast approaching causes him to make a snap decision, inviting the child into his car and shielding him from the clutches of the police.

Alexander’s path merges with the boy’s for a second time when he witness the child and another boy being abducted. Alexander trails the abductors’ car to an abandoned building somewhere in Thessaloniki, where orphaned street-children are being auctioned off to childless parents. An older child attempts to make good his escape and in the ensuing chaos Alexander is able to liberate the boy from under the noses of his abductors.

At first Alexander decides to return the boy to Albania but the pair’s relationship soon becomes mutually dependent. As the two become closer, Alexander learns a little of the boy’s life and past experiences in his war-torn village, which in turn encourages Alexander to dwell on his own life; the joys and mistakes of his past.

Alexander shares with the boy a story about the Greek poet Dionysios Solomos who, upon returning to his native land from Italy, was said to have purchased words from the native people in order to complete his poems. His last work, however, was left unfinished, and Alexander had set himself the task of completing it. Forced to face the realities of their respective situations, Alexander and his young companion are set to undertake two journeys; the boy’s to a frightening and uncertain future and Alexander’s the final journey towards death...

Angelopoulos’ films are often slow-paced, patient affairs, light on score and dialogue but heavy on style and symbolism. Eternity and a Day is no exception, and the Angelopoulos trademarks do not end there. Like many films emanating from the Greek’s stable, Eternity and a Day is concerned with ideas of nationhood, exile, immigration and the role of the outsider. Furthermore, the film exhibits the director’s trademark reluctance to conform to Hollywood conventions, and primarily in this instance, a linear chronology.

As the film progresses and Alexander begins to dwell more and more upon the experiences of his past, Angelopoulos experiments with narrative form and structure. Scenes following the present-day Alexander merge seamlessly with events from the past, as Bruno Ganz portrays a man mentally re-living the mistakes made in his youth. The film’s editing supports and enhances this brave take on chronology, with clever invisible cuts used to link scenes shot at different times and in different locations. Angelopoulos’ narrative experimentation is one of the film’s strongest elements, as he is able to tell the tale of a life lived over many decades in an inventive and legible way.

Another area in which Eternity and a Day excels is in its visuals. The film frequently juxtaposes images from Alexander’s past, lavish, high-contrast panoramas, beautiful scenery and bright blue skies, with his present existence in the washed-out urban dystopia of Thessaloniki. Even landscapes that could easily seem beautiful, like the mountainous region bordering Albania, seem oppressive in Alexander’s dotage; with snow, sky and mountain blending together in monochrome uniformity while refugees cling in a frozen rictus to the grim fence of the border. Angelopoulos exhibits his usual mastery of mise-en-scene here, knowing exactly when to stylise and conversely, when to demystify his superbly scouted locations.

Eternity and a Day is a typically minimal undertaking, employing a large number of long shots, extremely slow zooms, pans and tilts, slow paced editing and marginal scoring. Although this is clearly a stylistic consideration on the part of Angelopoulos, it is a technique that, like it or not, is liable to disassociate the audience from the narrative. It is a challenge for the audience to establish much empathy with the film’s characters, while the pacing and excessive length of the whole is likely to put off many potential viewers. This approach is typical of Angelopoulos however, and Eternity and a Day works nicely within the paradigms of his output.

Where this film fails to impress though, is in its tone. The story is a timeless and engaging one, but the excessively earnest, maudlin execution makes it very difficult to commit to. Eternity and a Day is expressly a tragedy, and as its protagonist is an author and a poet you would expect the voiceover to be at times indulgent and obtuse, but here it is relentless. Two and a quarter hours are a long time to go without a shred of levity, and Eternity and a Day offers little in the way of escapism. As Angelopoulos has gone to such great lengths to minimise the audience’s emotional involvement in the film, and as the story is such an expansive and tragic one, it is regretfully easy to find yourself losing interest.

Eternity and a Day is typical Angelopoulos and it would be a mistake to expect anything else. The film is a triumph of its kind, but perhaps best enjoyed in the rarefied air of a film festival than for the home cinema market.

3-Star

Review: The Weeping Meadow

DVD Review: The Weeping Meadow

Dir: Theodoros Angelopoulos

Runtime: 162 mins

Genre: Historical Drama

Country: Greece

Language: Greek w/ English subtitles

The first part of acclaimed Greek director Theodoros Angelopoulos’ ‘trilogy on modern Greece’, The Weeping Meadow is a lavish and expansive tragedy focussing on the displaced immigrants of the Odessa massacre. The ‘trilogy on modern Greece’ is the fourth in a series of such trilogies from Cannes darling Angelopoulos, whose works are known for their poetic detachment and exquisite mise-en-scene.

The Weeping Meadow follows a band of immigrants fleeing the massacre of Odessa as they alight on the Grecian shores near Thessaloniki. The film is a bildungsroman, taking in the greater part of the lives of two young immigrants as they develop from frightened and displaced children into young lovers, through to the fraught and tumultuous years of their adulthood. Alexis is brought to Greece by his ailing parents, and with him, an orphaned girl named Eleni. The pair, driven together as children through forces beyond their control, develop a natural affinity as teenagers thanks to their shared experiences.

Unfortunately for the young couple, Eleni falls pregnant with twins; sending the babies off for adoption and covering up her pregnancy by feigning illness. Back in the refugees’ village, Alexis’ father Spyros, now a widower, arranges to marry Eleni in an attempt to save face. Alexis and Eleni flee the ceremony, hoping to create a life for themselves free from the well-intentioned tyranny of their small community. They encounter a band of travelling musicians and journey on with them to Thessaloniki.

Alexis, a talented accordionist, attempts to find work with the troupe; but paid gigs are in short supply. The runaways are pursued by an incensed Spyros, now obsessed with Eleni and convinced that his son has taken what is rightfully his. The couple have companionship, freedom and a roof over their heads, and yet something still feels missing...

Alexis and Eleni slowly begin to introduce their twin boys, Yannis and Yorgis, back into their lives. With Spyros out of the picture for now, their family unit begins to feel complete. However, with revolution in the air, the couple align themselves with the Popular Front against the threat of fascism. These are unsettling times; political unrest is everywhere, work is hard to come by and violence and war are just around the corner. With these forces acting against them, will Alexis and Eleni be able to hold their fragile lives together or will they too become victims of an appalling global conflict?

Over the past two decades, resistance to the charms of foreign-language cinema has slowly become less widespread, with the uninitiated exposed to more world cinema adaptations, theatrical releases and legal downloads than ever before. There are still those yet to acquire a taste for the exotic however; with many claiming that world-cinema titles are impregnable cultural artefacts, slow-paced and pompous fare rich in symbolism but lacking in story and spectacle. For the most part, these views are born out of blinkered impatience and a reluctance to embrace the different, but where the films of Theodoros Angelopoulos are concerned, they can sometimes seem uncomfortably apposite. Certainly, the director’s style is not an easy one to warm to. Angelopoulos is a director who seeks to challenge his audience; although it can be argued that his exceptionally sparse, subtle and slow-paced storytelling often surpasses the merely ‘challenging’ and enters the realm of the wilfully obtuse. His films frequently run to around three hours in length; minimal epics constructed to unravel the narrative at a stubbornly sedate pace. So is The Weeping Meadow an example of truculent arthouse self-indulgence, or is it something worth persevering with?

Typically for an Angelopoulos feature, The Weeping Meadow is a thing of rare beauty. Cinematography, particularly in reference to composition, framing and light, is universally sublime. This is further borne out through the art direction; with costumes and set design of a particularly high standard. The film exhibits some wonderfully lavish set pieces, such as the refugees traipsing en masse along a windswept and desolate beach, but it is the little details that really capture the eye. An arrangement of objects on a bedside table for example, or the worn and battered furniture of the protagonist’s favourite coffee house, all speak of experiences shared and lives lived. These aren’t merely sets constructed by a cynical film crew; the sense of reality and history present in these most mundane of details is practically palpable.

Angelopoulos has never struggled where style is concerned, though. A director who describes his own works as ‘melancholic’; Angelopoulos is a man who wilfully defies convention, encouraging detachment from his characters and narratives through the use of prolonged wide-angle shots and minimal dialogue. Angelopoulos is not a man who panders to the whims of the audience; instead of courting their attentions he challenges them to find the meaning in his films, to put almost as much of themselves into viewing the piece as he has into making it. Critics often set much store by Angelopoulos’ brave and confrontational approach to filmmaking, but it pays to bear in mind that cinematic conventions are conventional for a reason. Using an extreme close-up to best exhibit an actor or actress’ portrayal of a certain emotion may be manipulative, but it has been long considered an effective means of establishing empathy with a character. By effectively minimising the audience’s emotional involvement with the film, Angelopoulos runs the risk of losing them completely.

The Weeping Meadow is far from the director’s most challenging of titles (there is an infinitely more engaging narrative here than in Alexander the Great, for example) but the film is far from a rewarding watch. Any sense of enjoyment you take form this or any Angelopoulos feature is going to be directly proportional to how much you actively seek to engage with the film. The aforementioned world-cinema sceptic is likely to watch The Weeping Meadow and be put off foreign film forever; their prejudices fully justified. On the other hand, a dyed-in-the-wool cineaste would (and do) praise Angelopoulos to the rafters. Make no mistake, a Theo Angelopoulos film is ‘high art’, complete with all the pitfalls and pretentions, arrogance and artistry that that title implies.

Depending on your point of view, The Weeping Meadow is a masterpiece or an abject failure; if Hollywood cinema could be considered akin to Alton Towers, then this is the Tate Modern. You could heap praise on The Weeping Meadow with one breath and deride it with the next; both arguments would have a valid point.

3-Stars

Review: Alexander the Great

DVD review: Alexander the Great

Dir: Theodoros Angelopoulos

Runtime: 205 mins

Genre: Historical drama

Country: Greece

Language: Greek w/ English subtitles

A sprawling period drama, Alexander the Great explores themes that resonate strongly in the minds of present-day Grecians such as politics, economy and power. Despite the traditional conventions of the historical epic, the film does not take itself too seriously and peppers the script with moments of comic farce.

It is the turn of the 20^th century, and a legendary bandit known as ‘Alexander the Great’ has escaped from prison. Alexander has returned with a simple edict; the landowners of Greece must release their stranglehold on the peasant classes, ushering in a new era of communal equality.

To this end, Alexander and his men take a group of wealthy English dilettantes as their political prisoners; refusing to release them until their demands are met. However, they fail to reckon with the stubbornness and power of the English government, and soon negotiations reach stalemate.

Caught in the middle of these two great forces, a village exists in peaceful, self-sufficient bliss. The presence of Alexander’s forces causes tensions to run high amongst the villagers, who feel that the revolution will threaten their delicate and idyllic way of life.

Eventually, Alexander’s demands are met in return for the safe release of the Englishmen. The soldiers rejoice, anticipating a glorious new era for Greece. The villagers though, are desperately unhappy, and feel that their fragile existence will come crashing around their feet. Can Alexander maintain the loyalty of the people and avoid punishment for his crimes?

Alexander the Great is an epic in only one sense of the word; it is excruciatingly long. Any film pushing three and a half hours in length will test the patience of even the most eager devotee, as anyone who has sat through the extended edition Lord of the Rings movies will attest. Usually, such films boast colossal runtimes in order to accommodate their complicated, multi-faceted storylines or lavish, expansive set pieces. Alexander the Great however, seems to be conducting an unusual experiment investigating how much tedium it is possible for the human brain to endure. Most people would have been capable of squeezing the same amount of plot onto the back of a postage stamp or a cornflake, but here the filmmakers have been content to let the film progress at the same rate as continental drift, lumbering from scene to scene without ever significantly furthering the story.

This is truly a film where nothing happens; a phrase which is generally overused but in this instance is wholly appropriate. Five minutes in, Alexander escapes from prison. At around forty-five minutes, a man is hanged. Roughly two hours later, there is a murder, followed by three hammy executions. Over the course of 205 long minutes, Alexander the Great doles out its drama as frugally as a recession-hit Dickensian workhouse owner. Any editor worth their salt could have condensed this film to a more palatable 90 minutes, or even a 30 minute short. Every shot is drawn out to the breaking point of even the most saintly patience, with so little occurring within the frame that you’d be forgiven for thinking it was on pause. A film that runs over three hours is self-indulgent at the best of times; here it is unforgivable.

Not only is the film overlong and boring, but it is also difficult to follow. There are characters who have been granted such elaborate screen time that you’ll soon be mistaking them for members of your own family, and yet you are never told their names. Everyone is underwritten, dialogue is minimal to the point of non-existence and character motivations are universally unclear. Could the eponymous Alexander the Great be the legendary leader of men and conqueror of worlds, risen from the dead after 2000 years? Is the name purely coincidental? You’ll never know because the film doesn’t deem it necessary to let on.

Similarly, the film’s technical execution leaves a lot to be desired. Performances are uniformly drab (perhaps because the actors have little to do other than trudge around waving guns in the air) and occasionally lapse into the outright theatrical. In one memorable scene, a soldier gives an impassioned speech before breaking down into tears and burying his head in his hands, where he stands statuesque for the next five minutes as if waiting for the curtain to drop. The score is infrequent at best, and one can detect the telltale hiss-and-drop of a poorly mixed soundtrack. Shots are held for an eternity, and when they do eventually cut, the edits are often clunky and unnatural. Exposure issues abound, (both under and over) and any dialogue recorded from upward of three feet away is effectively inaudible.

Alexander the Great’s only redeeming feature is its cinematography. Despite the aforementioned exposure issues, the composition is largely excellent and the camera movement both innovative and creative. It is evident that the cinematographer has struggled gamely against the film’s restrictive budget to make the most of what is in all honesty a magnificent series of locations. Both the camera work and art direction have given the film a visual legitimacy which is categorically not borne out by its narrative content.

Anyone who can sit through Alexander the Great without complaint deserves some kind of medal. Both unfocussed and spectacularly uneventful, Alexander the Great is that most unforgivable of things; a boring film. The film boasts some excellent visuals, but this in no way makes up for what is a terrifically dire 205 minutes.


1 Star