Daguerreotypen - Leute aus meiner Straße

The earnest simplicity of this documentary is wonderfully endearing, enchanting, and altogether gratifying. It is in turn a time capsule of a specific time and place, a slice of life portraiture, and an examination of the mundane and familiar that are so easily overlooked. In the filmmaker's narration are provided tinges of thoughtful rumination that are almost poetic, a mild flourish which at once accentuates the banality and normalcy of what she captures with her camera while also lending a slight whimsical, nostalgic flavor. Scarcely has Agnès Varda's 'Daguerréotypes' begun and it's easy to kind of get swept up in the sincerity and pleasantness that it represents.

In casting her gaze on the shops near her home, the storefronts and their products, the shopkeepers, and the people who frequent them, Varda encourages a measure of introspection for we viewers. How often do we stop and truly think about the homes and businesses that are a mere stone's throw from our door? Regarding our neighbors and passers-by with politeness, civility, and kindness is one matter; how much do we really know about them? Who are they, what are their interests, what is going on in their own lives? How much do we ever pause in our daily lives to consider the ins and outs of how a shop operates, during and outside of business hours, even if it's one that we regularly visit? Varda may be taking a look at Rue Daguerre in the mid 1970s, but there are thoughts and gentle lessons here that we can take with us and apply to any time or place.

These are the notions one may readily draw from 'Daguerréotypes,' and they form the understated ethos guiding the production such as it is. But this is not a documentary with any overt hypothesis, or a point to make; Varda pointedly declines any sort of commentary or assertion. The closest this comes to "embellishment," or exceeding its very low-key, matter-of-fact tone, is in showcasing street musicians, or the performance of a magician who is touring the area. Otherwise this is very happily nothing more than a record of the sights and sounds of the street where Varda lived, and in that alone, it's uniquely fascinating. Factor in some footage of butchers, bakers, tailors, hair stylists, music teachers, and so on practicing their trade, and there's an unmistakable air of warmth and vitality course through these eighty minutes. And then there's the shrewd editing, at times juxtaposing similar moments and at others disparate ones, which results in turn in some striking sequencing, and at other points real laughs and entertainment. Honestly, there are times when this is downright ingenious, and I can only commend Varda for the vision that assembles this into something far richer than it seems at first blush.

However one might come across this feature it never pretends to be anything it's not. It may not readily appeal to all comers, but those for whom it holds no interest will have no problem looking right past and moving on. On the other hand, for those who are receptive to what Varda is doing with this film, it's immediately engrossing and plainly charming. 'Daguerréotypes' boasts a level of heartfelt genuineness, and absolute authenticity, that even many other documentaries often lack. It's easy as a viewer to stop and reflect that the filmmaker is giving us a peek at a world frozen in time, a look and feel that is no more and never will be again, but it's enough to just sit and admire this 1976 picture exactly as it is. One perhaps doesn't need to go out of their way to see this, but if you do have the chance to watch, as far as I'm concerned 'Daguerréotypes' is an exquisite little project, well worth the time it takes to watch and then some.

Agnes Varda presents a loving view at the shop-owners of her street with much care for their everyday lives, their biographies and a keen eye for detail.

The first thing I appreciate here is that Varda went out with a camera and filmed her own neighborhood, looked for insight right outside her door. How richer would our lives be (and looking back, the cachet of images that convey the past) if more filmmakers were alert to their surroundings, looked for insight in the present?

She finds an ordinary life of course; visits middle-aged bakers, butchers, perfume sellers in their shops, observes the coming and going. There are no young people interviewed, so this emerges as the chronicle of a generation, Varda's own; the generation who were kids or teenagers during WWII and came to the big city right after from some village in the countryside. The street is Rue Dageurre, after the pioneer of early photography. It's photographs of life that we get. Our reward is that ordinary insight of photographs.

The best photographs are spontaneous, offering a sense that lingers. The sense here is bittersweetness that the journey has come to a stop there in that street, that this is a last station. They recount stories of how they fell in love with a fondness as if stirring the young lover they were. Asked about dreams they see, most dream that they're back in the shops they run during the day, a few dream about romance. The saddest of these neighbors is the old wife of the perfume seller who absently sits around the shop all day, not fully there in mind. The most poignant thing, in the evenings she's seized by some inexplicable urge to go out the door as if something calls for her, some journey left incomplete. She never ventures past the door.

This sense so placidly evoked lingered with me all day and the next; how we're caught between a life we build as loving shelter and the urge to step out the door in the evenings. The soul calls for both, both require mindful cultivation; going out in search of aimless pleasure must be only the unmindful way to do it, the artless way. Varda it seems strove to make herself a gift of that life that is mindfully present, cultivate it; a film like this is the seed that invites the care required to bloom.

The film is a small gesture of affectionate presence, closeness. Sad, and not. Its place may not be in a list of lifechanging works. But it can deepen you the same way a small gesture like stroking a loved one's hair deepens love.

(Ideally you'll see this after Varda's Le Bonheur, one of the most masterful films I know. The couple there could be among the ones here, grown to be 50 together in the same home; consider this an addendum. The same question emerges. Is this happiness? What is this mind that wonders?)

Very affectionate portraits of Agnes neighbours - mostly shopkeepers, at work and at play.

For me, the extended sequence where they attend a performance of the local magician (and all-round entertainer) is the highlight, but there's lots else to savour here.

The film is about lives of shopkeepers living on the same street. They were asked the same questions-When did they move here? How did each of them meet their spouse? What is their dream? The film also shows their daily lives-opening the shop, attending to customers, doing their jobs.

The person who impresses me the most in this film is the lady of the perfume shop, whose name I'm not sure if it's Marcele or not. She is really outstanding. She talks the least in this film. She smiles the least. But the expression on her face and her eyes are undescribable. By just being herself, she is mysterious. There's something about her which makes this film extraordinary. She seems to be the living proof of some facts of life. She is the opposite of the word `superficial.' And Varda seemed to realize that while filming. Varda let the camera focus on her many times. And everytime she's in the frame, there's something magical in the air. Moreover, that lady also provides one of the funniest scenes in this movie. But that scene is not only very funny, it also reflects an ironic truth of some people's lives. I don't know whether to laugh or cry for this scene. And I have to ask myself if my life is somehow similar to her.

The last part of the film touches me deeply and strongly. It's the part about their dreams. And the last sentence which Varda said plus the last image of the film somehow move me to tears, though it's not something sad at all. On the surface, the last scene is very ordinary. This scene would have no effect if it stands alone. But when it was put at the end of the film, this scene is emotionally and spiritually extraordinary.

Another interesting thing about this film is that it totally changes my feelings towards a photo. Before I saw this film, I'd seen its promotional photo-the picture of the bakery couples-and I felt nothing. It was just a photo of strangers. But after seeing the film, I look at the same photo again, and I am overwhelmed by some feelings. After you've learned about their lives and their dreams, after you have seen their smiles and observed their daily lives, they are not strangers any more. Looking at the same photo, I have the same feeling as I would have by opening my family albums and seeing photos of someone in my old neighborhood. The photo reminds me of their lives, and makes me wonder how they are now. This film really makes me wonder how lives on that street are now.

Last, but not least, I also like the technique of intercutting scenes of daily lives with scenes on the magician's stage. Varda seems to have a lot of fun connecting these scenes together by some amusing links-such as when both scenes refer to `losing head.' This clever juxtaposition of scenes create a lot of laughter among the audience. But I think the most important effect of this technique is that it makes the audience realize that our daily lives-our normal boring every day lives-indeed have some magic in it. This film has proved very well that ordinary people have so many interesting things to tell, and it also helps some of us to realize how magical life is.