La cicatrice intérieure

The landscapes used here are absolutely mesmerizing, to begin this on a positive note, a mixture of salty flatlands and volcanic deserts. And the ways the camera navigates them are also remarkable, the subjective motions against vast horizons.

But it is a work of art, no quotation marks required. Art as has evolved in the past century is nothing, in the sense that it is not anything, and is not required to mean anything beyond the means of expression. It hinges on the artist's selective framing, and usually some means to engage the curiosity of our gaze. But it does not need to be anything more than a urinal set up on a pedestal, to use the oft-quoted example.

Art being a two-way road of course, a kind of conversation, we are not required to engage it deeply. We can marvel as well as scoff, with all that is implicit in either. So I will let others tease out the symbolic quota of the film for some lengthy dissertation where the naked male rider stands in for whatever it is he does.

What I am interested in, is something that penetrates the soul of my being, tethers images and threads them in ways I wouldn't imagine. Images of some purity, by definition selectively framed, that expand into the world they are framed from; and in ways that address the subjective experience of framing by watching.

Naturally, dreams and myth have provided ample background from which to cull images. The idea is that we are treading the grounds of an unconscious sleep but which gives rise to the elements of life around us, a ritual sleep that matters because it supplies lucid form from waking life. It is something we can use to invigorate life again. Dreamlike imagery then can only matter as much as its imports.

There is none of that here, nothing lucid in the dreaming. It is at best a relaxing tone poem deriving most of its power from natural beauty recast as an internal landscape traveled by a man and a woman, but with now and then a different chord strummed in liturgic seriousness that tells us we're meant to be unraveling the vaguery for something of importance. I could not discern anything of importance, hopefully you will.

This film has great locations, but that's really the only good thing about it. Right from the start I was really annoyed by the terrible acting, so over the top and hysterical. I don't know why some people have called it a masterpiece and influential or even poetic, maybe they haven't seen "The seventh seal" (1957) by Ingmar Bergman, which deals with similar themes and in a much more masterful and poetic way. Also "El Topo" (1970) by Alejandro Jodorowsky would be a much better film to watch instead of this one. The "poetry" and songs in this movie didn't add any depth for me, along with the poor and theatrical imagery they just felt shallow and random, they don't feel like dreams or part of some strange apocalyptic world, they feel too staged, all actions and dialogues are carried out with too much predetermination, with no emotion or purpose. The clothes and different accessories seem out of place, they don't make any sense with the locations. I think the only moment that felt more natural was the scene with the kid in the ice. Nico's singing is powerful, but the lyrics are horrible. Whatever meaning this film has it's not within it and it's funny the director would forbid subtitles, as if it would make it more meaningful or mysterious. A short-film could have been more interesting.

one of the worlds most underrated directors and one of his early masterpieces (besides 'les hautes solitudes'(jean seberg_those wonderful eyes, those secret moments !)). i have seen those movies about ten years ago and since then desperately try to make it all happen again, but monsieur garrel hides his work in paris from the outside (video)dvd-world, why ??(why not, he may answer since his french production company has got this name) please hear(read) this and make at least one of your admirers life joyful again...

Amidst my usual apathy, often charged at its highest while watching some mediocre films or others that are quite good but sometimes lacking of good rhythm becoming painfully distractive things, "Le Cicatrice Intérieure" managed to do some good without demanding much.

On the surface this is hauntingly beautiful, very mesmerizing and very attractive to look at; deep inside within its few spoken words in three languages and in the echoes of nature, the story tries to be poetic, with some brainy meaning but no, it's pure boloney. It's very pretentious yet it's not something harmful. And c'mon it only takes 55 minutes to make its case.

The story (if there is one) revolves around a woman (Nico) trapped in the desert trying to get out of there along with a man (played by the film's director/writer Philiippe Garrel), a devil (also him), and one archer (Pierre Clementi, completely naked in all of the scenes he's in) who shares some messages with her. There's other characters, talks about faith, some randomness that knows no limits and that's my take on the plot.

I'm not gonna be cruel with this picture due to reasons. It looks like a long student project made in the 1970's, taking advantage of the whole counterculture already existent, and looks like something made out of improvisation after improvisation. It goes like this: everyone involved were under the influence of substances and they came up with this thing. Simple as that. It's not bad, just doesn't make much sense unless you're in the state the makers were, flying high as a kite, alternating illusion with reality, having visions of another world.

Despite this theory of mine, "La Cicatrice Intérieure" ("The Inner Scar") is fun to watch. Mysterious, a little bit engaging but complicated to understand. Garrel knows how to produce mythical images and hypnotic moments of pure beauty (I discovered this film after one gif of a scene with a horseman and his horse surrounded on a circle of fire and a kid watching them), it's fine but too bad that in this case he didn't knew how to develop substantial ideas worthy of praise and debate. It's filled of symbols but they don't arouse anything valuable or of interest. I can say he's a better director now, his "La Naissance de L'amour" was one of those surprising works where you ask yourself deep questions you've never thought of before.

Surreal at its average level, "La Cicatrice Intérieure" is a watchable piece for those who have patience to endure its enigmatic moving images. I liked it but I really wanted more. Didn't die of boredom like most people but haven't got rewarded with the effort. OK, only for the beauty, sometimes that's all we need to move through life once in a while. 6/10

A masterpiece. Stunning visuals , with sublime composition and framing . No subtitles, hat would ruin the aesthetic..interesting. Nico's songs sound profound and contemporary, do yourself a favour, switch of your phone and your mind, and let long lingering moments of filmmaking dazzle and confound you.