Ciò che l'occhio non vede

What an incredibly lame documentary. Seven of the eight film makers would have you believe that this particular Olympics was notable for...pole vaulting! Or weight lifting! Only John Schlesinger, to his eternal credit, deals with the 800 lb terrorist in the room. It's as if a team of reporters were covering the unveiling of a new built bridge and in the middle of their coverage the bridge collapses and all but one reporter blithely ignore it.. Simply amazing. And depressing. C minus.

"Visions of 8" is the pinnacle of series of arty olympic movies which started with movie "Tokyo Olympiad" (1965) and ended with Juri Ozerov's "Sports -- You Are The Peace" (1981). Ozerov was one of the eight directors of Munich movie and he was clearly influenced by the movie when he was making his one for Moscow olympics.

"Visions of 8" is not about reportage, not about just showing the events, not about giving information. It is about pure art cinematography. The movie is massively formalistic and thats why common people don't like it. It has very excessive editing, brave cinematography and very little real storytelling. Thats why I call it the craziest one.

The movie is the monument of heydays of film and photography which were in 1960s and 70s. The days are long gone.

For people who love art of film, this movie is must be. The most psychedelic and daring movie about an event of strict rules you can ever imagine.

If you're looking for a traditional, narrative, and episodic type of documentary replete with featured interviews, you won't find it here. It's not truly about the 1972 Olympics; the Olympics is more of a venue. This is a somewhat eclectic experiment that results in an often incohesive, mixed bag of hits and misses.

If you're a historian, professor, or student of film, or if you're perhaps a professional cinematographer, you'll probably take a lot more away from this than the rest of us. Eight different segments created by eight different artists bring eight different viewpoints and voices of what fascinates them about the Olympics. Some segments are captivating; others feel like throwaways.

It begins to feel laborious around the 60-minute mark, but then a segment entitled The Losers livens things up a bit. But from there, it starts to drag again. With a running time of approximately 100 minutes, it's too long.

You've got to be a true film buff to sit through it start to finish.

The 1972 Summer Olympic Games, in many ways, were the end of an era. Since 1936, the IOC had required each Local Organizing Committee to submit a documentary film as an historical record of their Games. After Munich, less emphasis was placed upon this and more upon Bud Greenspan's independent efforts. Only one-eighth of this film was directed by a West German; today, an American helms them all.

Munich '72 was the last occasion on which Olympic security could be said to be at all relaxed. The face of terrorism, at least before 9/11, bears the stocking mask of the Black September lookout at 31 Connollystrasse in the Olympic Village. John Schlesinger of "Midnight Cowboy" fame, assigned to film a British marathon runner, incorporates the tragedy into his mini-film as a distraction to the absurdly detached athlete.

After 1936 they all were imitating Leni Riefenstahl. Here, Japanese director Kon Ichikawa, filming his second Olympics, rings a change on the German's pioneering use of slow motion, using three dozen Arriflexes and four miles of film to turn the 100-meter dash into a quarter-hour examination of tortured lungs and leg muscles.

Producer David Wolper's take on this film was that it could have been better and was greatly improved in the editing room. The same could be said of any slice-of-life documentary, sporting or otherwise. The voice-over narrator sounds a lot like David Perry, who would soon become ubiquitous as Bud Greenspan's offscreen announcer. For almost the final time, feature directors got to play documentarian all those years ago.

Here's a very unusual view of the Olympics. It's not the vast number of cameramen involved; that's a given with the Olympics. It's that this movie is credited to eight directors, all of them distinguished: Kon Ichikawa -- back after TOKYO OLYMPIAD; Milos Forman; Claude Lelouch; Yuriy Ozerovnn; Michael Pfleghar; John Schlesinger; and Mai Zetterling. Each of them speaks a brief introduction to his - or her -- segment; and then there's music by Henry Mancini, for more orotund and distinguished than his usual sprightly, rag tunes.

There have been brilliant Olympic movies, and annoying ones, and movies that seemed to be collections that sort of vaguely showed you the exertions while muttering platitudes. The choices made in the production of this one strive valiantly to live up to those ideals, and I think it succeeds.

It's dedicated to the eleven athletes murdered at the Olympics.