Unrueh

A superb historical film told in a modern way, reducing all the dramatics to a minimum. With my limited knowledge of English I would not do justice to this great work, and I recommend Jordan Mintzer's review, published by The Hollywood Reporter.

I can only add that besides all the truth Mintzer writes about this political, economic and highly aesthetical work, and the detailed direction by Cyril Schäublin to show the process of creating watches and the eventual evolution of an anarchist organization in a little town controlled by entrepreneurs and their acolytes, what kept me in awe all the running time was Silvan Hillmann's cinematography.

The framing and composition suggest oppression in speech and actions, even when they take place outdoors. The fixed camera allows the viewers to watch simultaneous situations from a distance, and to let us make our own dramatic deductions.

There are few close-ups to manipulate our gaze. Hardly a camera movement... perhaps the most evident move appears in the closing shot, when a watch hangs from a tree. You must watch it. It is an excellent cinematographic treatise.

Pyotr Kropotkin was one of the lesser-known revolutionary figures in nineteenth-century Russia. Cyril Schäublin's "Unrueh" ("Unrest" in English) focuses on Kropotkin's time in Switzerland, where he became an anarchist. Part of what the movie deals with is how conditions in the factories drove people to leftism. I don't know if conditions in Switzerland's factories were as bad as in, say, those in the US or England, but there's a reason why revolutionary thought arose in such settings.

It's the sort of movie that deliberately movies slowly to allow the characters to develop; I guess that's our stereotype of the Swiss, right? I don't know if I would go so far as to call it a masterpiece, but it's worth seeing. As it's a pretty obscure movie - it doesn't even have a Wikipedia entry - you'll probably have to find it in a video store rather than on streaming.

Josephine is a wise and forward-thinking watch maker in a factory from 150 years ago. She fixes the spring mechanisms in watches that ensure movement and balance. Combining forces with a traveling anarchist from Russia, the pair attempts to alter the way that the town and its industries measure time.

Complicated like a watch and cerebral, Unrest unwinds slowly like the viewing of a masterful work of art. Ambient sounds of women singing, machinery, flowing water, summer insects, wind, and birdsong, combine with playful and beguiling camera work that, like the cinematography of Wong Kar-wai, often places the actors outside the focus of the frames.

After a late night of watching a midnight madness film at the Toronto International Film Festival and wandering through the city at night, I was not in the mood for this morning mindbender, so I need to watch it again in a better frame of mind, to fully appreciate its wonders.

This is a current offering on Criterion 3/24. Went in with no expectations and found a unique and beautiful film. I'm guessing historians of the time would find deeper meaning in it all but I found an engaging subtle love story (remember the opening sequence) and some amazing camera work. Settings are all gorgeous and the macro imagery is fantastic. Saddest part of this little gem is the complete lack of information about it anywhere. I'd love to know more but I'm happy just having seen it. Makes one rethink the term anarchist. Thanks Criterion for making this available for viewing for us all.

Ne of the funniest movies of the year is an anarchist 19th-century movie about watchmakers. The simple nature of filmmaking, but so wonderfully awkward and creative, almost every shot in this is locked down and far away, less about the performances, and more about the world it inhabits, and how the idea of time, and how much of a construct the idea of it is in the first place. How life ties us down by forcing us to contain ourselves to a strict guideline of time and work, and how when everything seems ridiculous and pointless the only necessary option is to rebel and leave. It is very slow, and there isn't really any music, but the tone, cinematography, and the structure of certain scenes is purposefully slow to go with the idea of time. Is a scene "wasting" time, or is it allowing the natural flow of a scene's structure to go together perfectly? For something so simple and unseen, this is such a bizarrely beautiful and thoughtful film. A film that can easily be thought of as pretentious, but like godard all that pretension is just hogwash, and where the film's objectives rely on is in the screwball aspect of societal structure and capitalist expectations. Great stuff.