Medéia

Yes it's a great movie but needs an upmost restoration to be able a better look by us who really loves the seventh art, is quite impossible at least to me measure a picture in these conditions, l don't know whose belongs the copyright of this one, but Lars Von Trier didn't deserves such bad shape allowed to sell, unfortunately will be see Monalisa blurry, by this just 7 out 10!!

Resume:

First watch: 2018 / How many: 1 / Source: DVD / Rating: 7

"Medea" is a truly haunting film, but you have to be a true lover of cinema to appreciate this gem.

The cinematography is ground-breaking, and at times it's hard to figure out exactly how the images are being filmed. Sometimes it appears that the film was shot, then filmed again off of a television screen. That's not to say that the images aren't beautiful and breathtaking, just that they're a little unorthodox.

I won't go into the storyline, as you can read the synopsis above, but rest assured, if you're a film buff who truly appreciates a fluid film that rewards the eyes, mind, ears, and heart, this film will leave you very satisfied.

On the other hand, if you're a high school girl who is more interested in checking the text messages on her cell phone than watching the required film in class, then you'd better go down to the multi-plex real quick.

As every art-house director knows, for mood and atmosphere you only need cut out the dialogue - that's easy. Every line of dialogue makes the action more human, more trivial - which may be the main reason why Shakespeare's plays have little emotional value, no matter how rich the poetry and how high the body count. I mention Shakespeare because the visual presentation here kept reminding me of Hamlet, and no doubt Trier could do a good one because he adds plenty of artistry to the most pared-back ideas. It's not rich, but sparse and fragmentary, like a tattered cloth buffeted by the wind, like patches of memory. The characters merge with the natural elements on several occasions, the sea, the windblown grass.

Medea is very much trapped in an imposed psychology, as are we all. The gods are pulling all the strings, or so it seems. She is not callous, not mechanical in killing her children, but tortured as she does fate's bidding. The children are part of the same system and must play their role in honouring their mother's agony. The tragedy is in the passive resignation. Trier communicates this far better than Pasolini, who communicated next to nothing in his version. We're watching someone plumb the very abyss of misery on account of simple vanity. That has always been worth some reflection.

Fascinating film which was filled with wonderful experimental cinematic effects. I'd love to have a 4K version of it. What spoilt for me it was that Lars Von Trier doesn't know that there is NO TIDE in the Mediterranean!

Watching this makes me lament Trier. It's good work. It's more than that, in fact. Beautiful pictures are not uncommon in film. In fact, they are getting so banal, say a postcard-perfect sunset, that we (both viewers and makers) often actively seek ugliness, some imperfection that conveys flawed - human - intimacy. Trier has flitted between the two notions (his Dogme entirely devoted to the latter), mixing and matching in a variety of projects down to his recent Melancholia.

But there are really few makers who can consistently furnish the sunsets, and link between them, that reveal something of planets in their orbits. Tarkovsky is king of that close vision from faraway. Watching this makes me lament Trier, because he could have been our current Tarkovsky, much more than either Tarr or Kusturica, who both flirted with carrying the mantle of that cosmogonic art.

This one lacks that orbital vision in different narrative planes (we only have one thread), and is mostly, rapturously devoted to tone poetry of elemental intimacy. It was very early in Trier's career anyway, but it's still a better and more visual third film than most directors ever managed. It's beautiful, but not in the clean sense of a David Lean epic. I prefer it this way.

That is partly because he's working from a barebones story that is ancient myth as interpreted by Euripides (and written into a script by Carl Dreyer): Medea has fled to Corinth promised marriage by the Argonaut Jason, who reneges on that promise when offered the hand of the daughter of the local king. Medea together with her two children is banished from the city.

It is a simple story of injustice. You are going to anticipate every turn, including (probably) the most tragic finale. It is the conventional Medea of myth, betrayed mother, woman, vengeful enchantress of cthonic witchcraft.

But the visual bell boom of this Rublev stretches far and wide, as he rings into being a gauzy world of untime, last fires, and first voyages out to cloudy sea. If only he hadn't lost himself in anger and cynical pessimism.. Tarr has followed suit. I think about the only thing that can keep an intelligent mind sane, is finding rhyme and music in unreason.