La pluie

Summertime wasn't made for a German count…. There are a lot of dangers outside the cosy gloomy of the Schloss; as for example, hordes of tourists who invade everyplace in order to take the most useless souvenirs or take useful pictures of this Herr Graf's Schloss,(However, this a minor problem that is solved easily by loosing a pack of hungry and ferocious Alsatian hounds). And besides this nuisance one has to deal with the rays of the sun that put at risk the characteristic aristocrat skin color not to mention the heat that can have terrible consequences for the aristocratic body, even sweat.

So, in order to avoid the summertime dangers and while hoping and sighing for the cold and dark winter, this German count decided the short film "Regen" ( Rain ), directed by Herr Joris Ivens in the silent year of 1929, was the perfect choice for the Schloss theatre. Herr Ivens was a Dutch filmmaker who experimented with the avant-garde, and "Regen" is one of the most avant-garde of Dutch films, a work that besides refreshing the atmosphere and the aristocratic mood, is a beautiful symphony of delicate water. It is deceptively simple but the artful visual composition made by Herr Ivens is evocative, sensitive, even nostalgic, a splendid collection of images about the daily and rainy life in an European city or how the rain is unchanging.

The film montage is absolutely brilliant, a gallery of images that depict a simple but lovely story of urban raindrops. It celebrates one of those remarkable little things that unfortunately go unnoticed, until Herr Ivens' skillful experimental direction, shows us the greatness and beauty of a rainy day.

And now, if you'll allow me, I must temporarily take my leave because this German Count must meet a fat and rich Teutonic heiress, rain or shine.

Herr Graf Ferdinand Von Galitzien http://ferdinandvongalitzien.blogspot.com/

This is a short documentary from the city-symphony genre of film in the early era of film. Unlike most city symphonies, Rain has more of a narrative structure as it shows Amsterdam and it's inhabitants immediately before, during, and after the rainfall. The gentle melodic strumming of guitar accompanies the various images and provides for an added tranquil experience. The film is shot using often obscure angles and close ups of images out of their normal range of view. As it was made during the silent era, there are no words to taint the beauty/ experience and the images are allowed to speak for themselves- while each viewer is allowed to connect and relate their own experience with the anticipation of rain. The film is short and sweet and perhaps one of the most naturally compelling visions of early or even later cinema. If you have the rare opportunity to view this piece of art, I highly suggest it.

I watched Regen yesterday, for the first time. I had read a lot about it and was expecting a masterpiece. Something was not there - something was missing - or something was too much. I saw it for the second time. The images were fantastic - but something was impeding me to feel the masterpiece.

I thought that I was too tired - Regen was coming after two hours of watching other short movies, by Epstein, Eisenstein, Weinberg ... So I was definitely tired.

I took a break and went to the kitchen to eat something, then I came back. I saw it once more. I had an idea - I cut the sound - and I saw Regen again - and now I felt the masterpiece! It is a masterpiece. Only in its simplicity it has a grandeur, a greatness - and the music (which is fine) is not at the same level of greatness - of simplicity and greatness.

I saw it then several times - it is like a spell, it is binding you.

This early dutch short film will confuse everyone who thinks cinema is a medium only fit to tell stories. Predating some of the most interesting --and lyrical-- documentaries of recent times, devoid of spoken words or any logical discourse, "Regen" offers a few, brief impressions of a rainy afternoon in Amsterdam; they do not form a sequence, they do not tell anything, but they definitely convey a sense of melancholy and quietness. If a conventional movie is the equivalent of a novel, or a short story, this should be regarded as a poem: it is concerned not with what's next, but with what's there, with perceptions of things.

Fans of Ron Fricke's "Baraka", Godfrey Reggio's "Powaqqatsi", or Peter Greenaway's "Prospero's Books", should try to find this relatively unknown film. The poetry of its images, underlined by its beautiful score, is truly memorable.

More stuff from Kino's first "Avant-Garde" collection, this was my introduction to the work of celebrated Dutch documentarian Ivens and two more of his films would follow in quick succession. Unfortunately, it would seem that "artists" dabbling in film during the 1920s were hung up on the element of water (in all its forms and sources) since this is the sixth such short I have watched over the last few days, following in the footsteps of Man Ray, Dimitri Kirsanoff, Ralph Steiner, Herman G. Weinberg and Pare Lorentz! As had previously been the case, this is one of those experimental "cine-poems" that were the order of the day in artistic circles at the time they were made but which are more often read about – in fact, this is also included in "Wonders In The Dark's All-Time Top 3000 movies" list I am currently perusing – than actually seen and which nowadays offer precious little instructional or entertainment value.