La terre qui pleure

I viewed this movie at the TIFF in 2004. It was the first film I ever seen their and I have been going back every year since, hoping to see something that was as moving. By far one of the greatest films I have ever viewed. The cinematography, the acting, the script all worked hand in hand. At times when the dialogue was silent you were still captivated by what was being shown on the screen.

The movie is long, but I did not lose interest once. I was lucky enough to meet Mr. Angelopoulos at the premier of his film and believe me for a movie buff like me it was a great honor even thought I did not realize it at the time. I believe that this film should be on every bodies must watch list if you are looking for a movie that is deep.

I have since viewed a lot of movies and have yet to fond anything that I believe is as important.

I had watched years ago some older films of Aggelopoulos and i was expecting a slow movie, with minimal dialogues, many symbolisms, weak plot and superb photography. I got exactly what i expected and something more: i left the theatre with an extreme satisfaction.

The film: Greece roughly between 1920 and 1950 (but it is so current and contemporary because it deals with global, recurring themes). The life of the nation through events: national catastrophes, refugees, social and political unrest, world and civil wars. The life of the person through emotions: love, lust, pride, hope, love, desperation, ambition, love, death. And many symbolisms and extremely powerful and beautiful scenes with references from ancient myths to current international affairs. And rain, lots of rain :-) The plot and the development of the characters may appear weak. We are used to ready meals from the business of cinema, which overwhelm us with fast dialogues, "strong" performances and "exciting" situations. And that's fine. But cinema and people need also the approach of Aggelopoulos, we need some space and time, to reflect and realise our existence. "To Livadi pou dakryzei" gives more freedom and time to the viewer to participate with his feelings and memories and thoughts. That's exactly interactive art.

These are some of my interpretations of some scenes: village flooding (Climate Change and the forces of Nature), immigration/separation (departure of my girlfriend), mother crying over her soldier sons dead bodies (this is a real war scene, not the computer games style). You will identify with other scenes (everyone has an opinion, right ?) and you will feel alive.

I am grateful to Aggelopoulos for giving me the chance to look inside myself, remember, sigh, think.

Anytime you sit down to a historical piece, especially a part of a trilogy, you must be prepared for an investment of time. In this case, it is 3 hours more or less, depending on the version.

The period that the first part of the Trilogy covers is 1919 -1949. Theodoros Angelopoulos presents 30 years of Greek history beginning with the return of the exiles from Odessa after WWI to the rise of the Colonels.

Eleni, who witnesses the history, is played by an unknown, Alexandra Aidini. He does not use her in the second film.

She is to marry Spyros (Vassilis Kolovos), but loves his son Alexis (Nikos Poursadinis), She runs off with him. They had two children that were taken and given to a rich woman. They managed to get them back after the village flooded. Alexis heads to America, while Eleni loses the children again after she is imprisoned. The war takes a toll on the family. There is much weeping among the women and those who didn't wear black, did so now.

But, the film is really not about the characters. It is about Greece, and the pain she has endured in this century.

It is a dark and dreary film with plenty of rain and cloudy skies. It is not meant to be joyful as the period is not joyful, as we watch dreams shattered, and people surviving, but just barely.

With music by Eleni Karaindrou and cinematography by Andreas Sinanos, you are not bored by the lack of dialog. In fact, you are left to enjoy and experience the time and the film.

Those who enjoy Bergman, Fellini, Kurosawa, and other great masters, will certainly enjoy Theodoros Angelopoulos. I hope he finished this trilogy, as he will be almost 80 when he does.

I think anyone familiar with Angelopoulos knows what to expect with his films: long, drawn out, meticulously planned shots that slowly scan environments, with the image composed of not only the foreground but hundreds of yards into the background. I guess some are not impressed with the director's style, but that really astounds me. I definitely see the man as a master of his medium, and The Weeping Meadow is as good as any of his other films – every one I've seen so far is a masterpiece or close to it. This film has a lot in common with the director's first big success, The Traveling Players. It follows a little girl, Eleni, from 1919 to the time of the Greek Civil War, at the end of WWII. And, as the title implies, it's a great tragedy. There is a lot of weeping. It may be long and slow, but it's always gripping. Angelopoulos' imagery is second to none in modern cinema. There are just so many jaw-dropping sequences. My favorite was the one where the camera explored its way through a maze of bed sheets drying on clotheslines, discovering various musicians hidden within. It's not a complaint, per se, but if you're going to watch the film beware of its chronological ellipses. The film can skip ahead years in just a second, when the pace usually makes each second feel like years (in a good way!). I hope New Yorker video, or some other company, digs up the Angelopoulos films that have been unavailable so far, and puts The Traveling Players on DVD, as well.

THE WEEPING MEADOW ('Trilogia I: To Livadi pou dakryzei') is writer/director Theodoros Angelopoulos (with influences from Tonino Guerra plus assistance from Petros Markaris and Giorgio Silvagni) creating a personal vision of the 20th century. The incredibly gifted Greek poet of a filmmaker mirrored the life and death of his own mother whose time on earth spanned a century and elected to capture the 100 years of sadness in a trilogy of films: The Weeping Meadow is Part I and details the years 1919 through 1949. It is a masterwork.

The film opens with what will be the trademark look of the movie - vistas of lonely people in a nearly monochromatic color space that uses water, both from rain and the collected results of rain. A group of refugees from Odessa have landed by a river in Thessaloniki where they must attempt to reconstruct their lives. Among them is a family - a wife and husband with their young son and a three-year-old orphan Eleni they have protected. The entire movie seems to be in slow motion, but that is just the studied, unhurried rhythm of Angelopoulos' direction. As time passes we find that Eleni at a very early age has just given birth to twin boys while she has been sent away for the family's appearances: the father is the young son of the family. The story progresses through the World Wars, the civil wars, the influence of Hitler and Mussolini, the natural disasters of floods and disease, the social disparities of class, the rise of unions, the fall of democracy - all mirrored in the family that is trying to make the chaos of living in Greece resemble some sort of order. The young man is a musician and once he and Eleni have reunited with their twin boys, he decides he will go to America, the land of Promise for poverty stricken refugees, to work and make enough money to bring Eleni and the twins to America. But in his absence the progressive civil unrest and poverty the three endure in his absence results in the ultimate dissolution of the family.

The story is less important than the moods evoked. The cinematography by Andreas Sinanos is a long gallery of miraculously composed, beautiful images: the cortège on the river, the flapping white sheets behind which we discover musicians, the constant vistas of the ocean and the river, the village and the battlegrounds burn themselves onto our visual fields and into memory. The gorgeous music that accompanies this symphonic work is by Eleni Karaindrou, mixing folksongs with wondrous symphonic moments. The cast is superb: they manage to create very specific people despite the fact that we rarely see them up close. But in the end this visual treasure is the extraordinary work of Theodoros Angelopoulos. If this is Part I of a Trilogy (at almost three hours running time), we can only imagine the power that will follow in the Parts II and III. Experiencing THE WEEPING MEADOW takes patience and a long uninterrupted period of time; the rewards are immeasurably fine. In Greek with English subtitles. Grady Harp