Rêve à vendre

This is a great film for fans of the surrealist and dadaist movements and offers a lot of great moments by a wide range of talented artists, but it falls just short of the glory of what it could have been. The running time pushes the boundaries of what many of us, even fans of surrealism, can handle.

The film is a series of vignettes joined by a central story but on a whole it's not quite cohesive, and it's not even in-cohesive in an interesting way. All in all with the names involved, you just go in expecting more. It's a good little gem of experimental cinema but I was frankly wanting a little more...

This quirky surrealist film follows the adventures of a dream seller as he supplies dreams to his mixed clientele.

The dreams were created by various artists, and the quality and style varies. Max Ernst comes the closest to creating something with a real feel for dream logic involving the saving of a woman, although it was a little slow. Richter also comes close with the final, blue-faced sequence. Marcel Duchamp and Alexander Caldwell, on the other hand, both contribute simple movement pieces, although Caldwell also offers a somewhat interesting stop-motion circus scene.

The most interesting piece is by the one artist I've never heard of, Fernand Leger, a clever musical piece involving mannequins.

Avant-garde works being what they are, you probably wouldn't know this was made in 1947 if you weren't told, as filmmakers today will go for a retro style. It's a mixed bag, but I'd say it's worth watching if you're interested in surrealism.

A strange attempt to bring the work of surrealist artists to a wider public. The plot is than an average Joe (Jack Bittner) can conjure up dreams that will improve peoples lives. This gives an excuse to view sequences created by several artists, most of whom were living in the US to avoid World War II.

Of most interest for those wishing to seeing the various artist's work, such as Alexander Calder' Circus being animated. I saw the Museum of Modern Art Print and the colors were in poor shape - the blue was almost gone.

The Avant Garde movement is not one that I follow, or know too much about, though I had seen some work by Duchamp at an exhibition in London once. However, I'll try very nearly anything and so when Dreams that Money Can Buy came up on Film 4 very late at night, I had to give it a go.

I could not find a separate listing as to which director did which part on the IMDb, but I have to say that I only really enjoyed two segments - Duchamp's 'Discs' and the last one, 'Narcissus' by Hans Richter. I really liked the geometric patterns and shadows of the masks and things in Duchamp's and the overall operatic, Gothic feel of Richter's, which had some great visual flair.

I persevered with the others and whilst I could see definite skill and talent in many pieces, they weren't really "me". My score is probably nearer the 5.5 mark than 6, but I'm rounding up slightly. Apologies to all who love this work, but with an alternative and rare film such as this, it's always going to divide opinion - and I did give it a go!

I had long been interested in watching this one (and had even toyed with the idea of acquiring its BFI PAL VHS in the mid-1990s) but, having now caught up with the film, I cannot say that the end result fully lived up to expectations!

It is quite a unique effort, mind you, but very uneven in tone – a reflection of the many 'cooks' involved in the 'broth' since, despite the overall credit to Richter, many another avant-garde artist was responsible for the various dream sequences that basically comprise the narrative (Marcel Duchamp, Fernand Léger, Man Ray, etc.). This is also why I preceded its viewing with a number of shorts by all these exponents of experimental cinema and, for what it is worth, I opted to check the film out on the day of Richter's own birthday!

The concept is an intriguing, even noir-ish, one – accentuated by the initially down-on-his-luck protagonist and constant voice-over. The fantasies range from the romantic (a henpecked man braving a labyrinth for the sake of his idealized beloved recalls the work of Jean Cocteau) to the musical ('sung' by a mannequin and dreamt by a geeky girl liberated to femme fatale status by the hero's attentions), and from the prescient (the audience at an interactive movie theater imitate every move of the actors on-screen) to the insipid (a lazily derivative 'rotating shapes' display by Duchamp serving as the visions of a gangster type – who on earth but mathematicians dreams of such things anyway?!). The last hallucination, then, is reserved for the leading man himself – his assuming a blue countenance at this point presumably representing his own uniqueness (in view of the gift he is able to 'bestow' upon others).

As I said, this is more worth watching for its intentions than for what is ultimately achieved; the colour scheme, at least, makes it that more palatable to the adventurous movie-buff. Incidentally, we also have here one of the very earliest examples of a pre-credits sequence on celluloid.