Die Ewigkeit und ein Tag

The basic plot of ETERNITY AND A DAY is straightforward enough - an aging writer Alexandre (Bruno Ganz) meets a young illegal Albainian immigrant (Achileas Skevis) and takes his home. As he does so, the writer reflects on his own life; his past; his relationship with his mother and his wife; and what he has achieved in his life. Yet Theodoros Angeloploulos' film is at heart a meditation on the act of writing: when we set down words on the page, do they actually record our experiences, or can they only provide an approximation of what we are feeling at any particular moment? Alexandre is perpetually tormented by this thought - although successful in his chosen career, he believes that he has been a failure, simply because of the notion that words can only allude to experience, not record it. The child, in his innocence, believes that words can be found, or bought; but however much one pays for that word (in terms of buying a book, for instance, or when a writer receives royalties for what they have done), those words are still inadequate. They are both allusive - in the sense that their relationships to actions and things are contingent upon circumstances - and elusive (in the sense that such relationships are only approximate). With such uncertainties in his mind, Alexandre comes to understand that there is no "final" distinction between "life" and "death" (after all, they are only words); he has to experience both as a continuum, without the support of anyone. Visually speaking, the film is full of stylistic ironies: Angelopoloulos' camera is perpetually tracking forwards; we see cars in the traffic-choked streets driving off to somewhere, or traveling on the freeway; while the characters are seen crossing the frame from left to right. All suggest some kind of forward movement, a desire to go from one place to another. However such movements are not "progressive" at all, but rather suggest a desire not reflect on life's futility (as Alexandre discovers through his words). In a sense such movements are an evasion rather than an engagement with existence. The same also goes for the "narrative" of the film: Angelopoloulos shows that it is not particularly significant: what matters more is for viewers to reflect on the mise-en-scene within individual frames; to listen to the words, focus on the actors' expressions and body movements, and understand Alexandre's state of mind. A long and complex film, ETERNITY AND A DAY befits repeated viewings.

Thessaloniki this day. A very sick bearded man leaves his seaside house to go to the hospital for the few days remaining. Suddenly he decides to search the area. He rescues a small Albanian boy chased at the traffic lights by the police while cleaning car windows for a living. He saves the same kid when ready to be sold to foreigners. This happens in Greece but it can happen anywhere. He makes a tour with the kid. He visits the frontier looking like a Nazi camp with spectators watching while hanging on the wire fence. He speaks with Dionysios Solomos,the poet of the 'Hymn to liberty' and 'Free begieged'.A poet that used to pay people in Zakynthos to buy a word for poetic exploitation. Theo Angelopoulos plays an important sociophilosophical role as a very talented director in expressing the human relation,the national language and many other concepts. Angelopoulos purports to open a new road for understanding the world,life,death,love,poetry,music,child innocence,a man to die very soon,a wedding with the married couple dancing in circle movements. This movie has a faster mode than previous ones by the

same director. First prize in Cannes in competition with Benigni's 'life is beautiful'. A film with the warm performance of Bruno Ganz. A film with the magnificent music of Eleni Karaindrou. A masterpiece for 10 out of 10.

The most Bergmanesque of Angolopoulos's films. Simpler and less epic than most of his work, with fewer of his trademark breathtaking images and grand themes. Yet this story of a dying writer spending his last day before entering the hospital -- never to leave -- has a deeply elegiac melancholy, and his attempts to find meaning by saving an Albanian street urchin are often moving, if occasionally sappy. The same is true of Bruno Ganz' (unfortunately dubbed) relationship with his wife and family, told mainly in flashback, Much is moving, some is hokey and forced. But Ageloupolus' use of images to make film a poetic medium is always worth watching, even when flawed.

Since I traveled to Prague in 2003 and bought Eleni Karaidrou's album "Eternity and a Day" I was wondering when and where could I get this movie.

I got it and it was incredible for me. Poetry, photography (I think it is the best photography I've ever seen in a movie) and music in an amazing movie THAT I DID NOT UNDERSTAND because it's in Greek (no English subtitles in the release I've got).

You don't need to understand their words to feel it, to cry and to laugh when the moment comes. Angelopoulos has made, in my honest opinion, a master piece of theater-movie.

Buy it, keep it, show it to your children, to your parents...

A film straight from my dreams, drifting in and out of logical existence into the land of the dead. The story, as much as there is a story, involves an aging poet (played by European film staple Bruno Ganz) who has a terminal disease. He is apparently destined to die tomorrow, and we spend his final day following him, from his waking to midnight. Early in the morning he picks up a young homeless boy, an Albanian refugee, who tries to wash his window at a stoplight. Together they go on silent adventures. At regular intervals the film flashes back to Ganz's interactions with his beautiful wife, who never appears in the present, nor do we find out where she is. Most of the film's power is visual and aural. It is truly a sensual experience, along the lines of a Tarkovsky film. Because of its sensual prominence and lack of a coherent plot, it will surely fade from the surface of my memory. However, it is guaranteed to haunt me for the rest of my life. 10/10.