L'hypothèse du tableau volé

With enchanting aestheticism and the theological investigation of art, of its creation and speculation, of its interrelationships with cinema, in particularly the recreation of a printing in a cinematic scope. Its a stylistic and fascinating, moderately surreal work by the master Raul Ruiz, but only to an extent, afterwards, the movie creates a incomprehensible concept by both the dialogue and the exploration of the idé itself.

I must say I was impressed the cinematography was amazing, the frames close to perfection and the way he built up the tension around a subject that sound more like a dreadful bore is beyond be.

The film is about two narrators, one seen, one unseen. They are both trying to explain the significant of a series of painting that caused a scandal a long time back. The film is all about theories and explanations of views but the conclusion is quite shocking I must say. Definitely a film that deserves more than it's 171 votes.

With only 66 minutes to play out it's plot the film still felt like a complete work. Fantastic direction! I must say far better than Blood of the Poet which it for some strange reason remind me a bit of.

I suppose you can call it by the slang word "artsy". It's pretty much just a lot of professional talk about various theories and stunning visual effects but the crew and Ruiz did pull it off. At least for me. An amazing film.

This is a strange, cerebral, surreal, esoteric film. If there is such a thing as "intellectual horror" cinema, this film is it. I started to get scared and wish there was someone else watching it with me, and it barely has a plot! I'm going to have to see this film again multiple times before I feel I really understand it. If you're the kind of person who likes "My Dinner With Andre" and films by Godard, or if you do a lot of mind-altering drugs, you will probably enjoy this film. Wow.

L'Hypothèse du tableau volé/The Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting (1979) begins in the courtyard of an old, three-story Parisian apartment building. Inside, we meet The Collector, an elderly man who has apparently devoted his life to the study of the six known existing paints of an obscure Impressionist-era painter, Tonnerre. A narrator recites various epigrams about art and painting, and then engages in a dialogue with The Collector, who describes the paintings to us, shows them to us, tells us a little bit about the painter and the scandal that brought him down, and then tells us he's going to show us something....

As he walks through a doorway, we enter another world, or worlds, or perhaps to stretch to the limits, other possible worlds. The Collector shows us through his apparently limitless house, including a large yard full of trees with a hill; within these confines are the 6 paintings come to life, or half-way to life as he walks us through various tableaux and describes to us the possible meanings of each painting, of the work as a whole, of a whole secret history behind the paintings, the scandal, the people in the paintings, the novel that may have inspired the paintings. And so on, and so on. Every room, every description, leads us deeper into a labyrinth, and all the while The Collector and The Narrator engage in their separate monologues, very occasionally verging into dialogue, but mostly staying separate and different.

I watched this a second time, so bizarre and powerful and indescribable it was, and so challenging to think or write about. If I have a guess as to what it all adds up to, it would be a sly satire of the whole nature of artistic interpretation. An indicator might be found in two of the most amusing and inexplicable scenes are those in which The Collector poses some sexless plastic figurines -- in the second of them, he also looks at photos taken of the figurines that mirror the poses in the paintings -- then he strides through his collection, which is now partially composed of life-size versions of the figures. If we think too much about it and don't just enjoy it, it all becomes just faceless plastic....

Whether I've come to any definite conclusions about "L'Hypothèse du tableau volé", or not, I can say definitely that outside of the early (and contemporaneous) works of Peter Greenaway like "A Walk Through H", I've rarely been so enthralled by something so deep, so serious, so dense....and at heart, so mischievous and fun.

Having read during many years about how great this film was, how it established Ruiz among the french critics (specially the snobbish Cahiers crowd), when I finally watched it about a year ago, I found it pretty disappointing (but then, I guess my expectations were sky-high). Shot in saturated black and white, this deliberately cerebral film (made for TV, and mercifully, only an hour long) is told in the form of a conversation between an art connoisseur and an off-screen narrator as they ponder through a series of paintings (which are shown in the style of tableaux vivants) and try to find if they hold some clues about a hidden political crime. (The awful Kate Beckinsale film Uncovered has a similar argument). Borgesian is a word I read a lot in reviews about this movie, but I would say almost any Borges story is more interesting than this film.