Die Geschöpfe

A hermetic work, where fantasy and reality mix, in a surreal universe of a writer, locked in a strange beach house, almost a fortress, with his pregnant wife, while writing a literary work.

Both suffer injuries from a road accident. He has a deep feeling of guilt, marked by a scar on his forehead, which symbolizes a healthy madness, which he channels into literary creation. She, a loving muteness, the reverse of her husband's guilt, which she only overcomes at the end, with the birth of her son.

Meanwhile, like a demiurge of the small world that surrounds him, he plays the luck and destiny of his characters and of his own life and family.

Of course, with all the hermetic surrealism that dominates the film, everything could mean something completely different to other viewers.

It is certainly not Varda's most representative cinematographic language, nor is it her most inspired or influential film.

It's Pierre Barbaud's score that first catches one's attention, flush with high and somewhat discordant strings that would be well suited for an arthouse horror flick. That semblance may not be so far off base, actually, as Janine Verneau's tight editing produces a unique flurry of imagery. Conjured by Agnès Varda's unique vision, that imagery includes scene writing, dialogue, and characters that ride a fine line between "a few centimeters removed from 'natural' and 'normal'" and "completely weird and outrageous," not to mention select visuals that may or may not be discretely tied to the narrative. Even more to the point, Varda's tale is most definitely crafted with an oblique, off-kilter flow and sensibility befitting the more far-flung and artful side of cinema. I don't think there's much arguing that this is a title for a more niche audience, but by the same token, it's expertly crafted across the board, and is solidly engaging even in its strangeness. 'Les créatures' certainly won't appeal to all, nor would I expect it to, but I had a great time watching and think this is well worth exploring.

The indistinct lines between fiction and reality in the picture are part and parcel of the visuals presented to us, nevermind the tenor that influences all else on hand. With the fantastical bent firmly established after a time, the delightfully vivid choices of filming locations, production design, art direction, costume design, hair, and makeup are made quite clear, and the supremely mindful, tasteful cinematography is all the more lovely for the fact of it. As if she hadn't done so elsewhere, Varda illustrates without question her expertise as a director; shots and scenes here may be on the more curious and offbeat side of things, but she orchestrates the tableau with a shrewd eye and dexterous hand to build the whimsy and the mystery. Even at that, maybe more than anything else what the unusual slant of 'Les créatures' provides is an opportunity for the cast to just have a total blast. Esteemed actors that Michel Piccoli was and Catherine Deneuve is, it feels a bit like this gives them a chance to show another side of themselves, and try something a little different. So it is too with co-stars like Eva Dahlbeck, Bernard La Jarrige, Jeanne Allard, and all others on hand.

By all means, it's a decidedly odd feature that Varda conjured, one that pointedly confuses the levels of "reality" here. I won't say that I understand everything she was doing with her screenplay, but as she had accordingly spoke of "inspiration" as the underlying impetus and motif, I can only reflect in turn that the movie is itself rather inspired. It's wonderfully imaginative in every capacity, the the story she put together is a minor joy. It sure seems like everyone involved was having fun, a feeling that's easily communicated and shared with viewers. I can understand how this won't necessarily appeal to wide general audiences, but I'm very pleased with how inventive 'Les créatures' is, how well it's made, and how enjoyable and satisfying. Unless one is a diehard fan of someone who participated it may not be an outright must-see, but for those who are receptive to all the wild possibilities of what the medium has to offer, as far as I'm concerned this is well worth checking out if one comes across it.

In this totally senseless pseudo-sci-fi film, Catherine Deveuve is mute for 95% of the time; as if to compensate, her husband Michel Piccoli (playing a character named Piccoli - how profound) can talk to animals! Shot in black-and-white, the film uses a red monochrome every time someone does something weird - which happens a lot. It also has an incessantly piercing violin score. One of those art films which drive people away from art films. 0.5 out of 4 stars.

..the others will think it merely arty.Like so many nouvelle vague artists,Agnès Varda tries hard here to say something "deep" "meaningful" and "of consequence".

All Varda's qualities seem to have vanished into thin air:spontaneity,simplicity and sensitiveness,which made her beautiful "Cleo de 5 à 7" so worthwhile and so new at the beginning of the sixties.These qualities seemed to remain in the follow-up "le bonheur",but this latter work is rather unpleasant in several respects.(Mrs Alice Liddell wrote a very good IMDb comment for "le bonheur",read it and you'll know what I mean)

In "les creatures" Varda casts Piccoli as a writer and Deneuve his mute (because of an accident)wife .The other characters are all pawns in a giant chess game.Sometimes the screen turns red ,maybe to indicate that it's not the same "player",who knows?Actually this is the kind of movie which defies analysis.

It was the eighties before Agnès Varda was again in clover with "sans toit ni loi" and "Jacquot de Nantes".

"When one has much to put in them, a day has a hundred pockets." Nietzsche

In the first few reels of this film, quite a number of things were slipped into the pockets of different people. What they were, and into whose pockets and by whom they were slipped was not always readily apparent. If it had been, my mind might not have drifted into default mode and thought of the Nietzsche quote - which quote may or may not have influenced Agnes Varda. Perhaps she just liked pockets. Pockets can be decorative and they can reveal as well as conceal. And what deeper convoluted pockets than those of the mind?

The film begins with a couple travelling in a sports car - she implores him to go slower. His response, predating that of a popular American actor yet to be born, could be synopsized as: "I feel the need for speed." The stimulation, the rush, the kinetic excitement of rapid movement . . . this feeds his artistic temperament. She still wishes him to slow down - or at least be more careful. The camera slowly pulls up from the plane of movement of the car, which is travelling by the seaside, until the car disappears and we hear the inevitable crash.

The rest of the film takes place on an island. The man seems to have adapted to the thoughts of Raymond Inmay on creativity: "If you are seeking creative ideas, go out walking. Angels whisper to a man when he goes for a walk." While this may be true, some islanders see his walking as suspicious.

For a writer - and a filmmaker, I imagine, everything in life can become grist for the artistic/creative mill. One well-known actor once told Fellini how he interpreted one of his movies and asked him: "Am I right? Is that what you meant?" To which Fellini responded: "If that's what you saw in it, that's what I meant." While I have some ideas about what the pockets could mean, I have very few about the sea crabs, whose imagery was also rather abundant. If you're on an island, you're going to see ocean life. But there were a lot of crabs, both dead and alive, and a mechanical claw device, used in concert with a live-action "chess" game toward the end of the film.

What is actually going on in this film? Well, besides Nietzsche, you might want to keep a line from Gilbert & Sullivan on hand - HMS Pinafore, Act II (1878) "Things are seldom what they seem/ Skim milk masquerades as cream" Perhaps 1/2 hour into the film, the cinematography gives a pretty good clue that there is more than a singular reality operating here - and things pretty much flow from there to the film's conclusion.

And what does Mr. Ed have to do with anything? Well, I don't recall any non-cartoon talking rabbits in pre-1965 cinema (although I'm not saying definitively there *weren't* any). But there was a talking horse who won a Golden Globe award in 1963. Was Agnes Varda a Mr. Ed fan? I know not. Regardless, the talking horse and talking bunny sequence were nice lightening touches in the film. Another was the "in-joke" (if you know Varda's filmography) of two guys trying to crack a safe - and they get inspiration for 2 of the numbers from Varda's CLEO FROM 5 TO 7.

So - what kind of creatures are we, anyway? Are we the masters of our universe? And, if we are a writer - are we even the master of the characters we invent? More than one writer has reported characters in a work of fiction taking on a life of their own - becoming unruly, even. And if a writer has difficulty controlling his own "creatures," how much control do the writer's "creatures" have over their own destiny?

How much do *we* have over ours? Or over that of others?

This question is perhaps best amplified by the live-action "chess" game toward the end of the film. Even the best of intentions can have unexpected results. Just a minor change in circumstances can have a cascading effect (Kieslowski's BLIND CHANCE, 1982; Howitt's SLIDING DOORS, 1998)

These are a few of the thoughts, loosely stuffed in available pockets, that washed over me in the watching of the film. I was also reminded of Jonathan Carroll's first novel, THE LAND OF LAUGHS about writers and their creations. Check it out - it might even make it to the screen some day.