Chronos

Chronos is an interesting movie, it doesn't have any conventional storyline, and no dialogue, it's just really gorgeous imagery and music, which surprisingly was a one long continuous track composed by Michael Stearns which ran throughout the entire movie. I really like how this film was shot, it's mostly Time-Lapse cinematography, which is just footage that is recorded for multiple hours at a time and then sped up to make it look ultra-cool, and the cinematography is just flat-out amazing, and with the locations that they capture, that makes it even better.

As I said in the summary of this review, you might want to slow your brain down before watching this movie, this isn't your typical documentary, like I've stated earlier, there's no dialogue in this film, which might make it a bit boring, I'd actually recommend listening to the commentary on the DVD and Blu-ray releases for this movie so you won't be bored to death, but nevertheless, this is an amazing visual experience, and the only reason I'm giving this a 9 is because it is a bit boring at times, and it's only 42 minutes long, other than that, I'd highly recommend "Chronos".

In Greek mythology, Chronos is said to be the personification of time. Taking that into consideration, you might assume that this would be the longest of the films that Ron Fricke was involved with but actually the opposite is true. Chronos comes in at just under 45 minutes making it a short but sweet trip around some of the world's most beautiful man-made and geological structures.

For those looking for a longer trip as well as more to think about when the film is over, I highly recommend Powaqqatsi at 99 mins, Baraka at 96 mins, and Koyaanisqatsi at 87 mins - but you should probably skip Naqoyqatsi at 89 mins because its the weakest of the Qatsi trilogy. Whereas Naqoyqatsi's seizure inducing mechanical/digital messages drench the experience, Chronos is the exact opposite.

Chronos is sort of a Baraka "lite". This does not have the music of Philip Glass or the socio-political messages, but the beauty on display should make up for it. Additionally Fricke experiments with different exposures and filters (not seen in the other films) to create some striking effects. If you get the chance to see it, definitely take this one for a spin.

Fricke has a new film coming out soon (should be sometime this year) called Samsara which is a sequel to Baraka, and if that doesn't fill the gap you can check out Anima Mundi (by Reggio about animals), Microcosmos (about insects) and Atlantis (by Luc Besson) which is like a scuba dive.

I was fortunate to see the movie in HD on cable recently. The movie is a bit like Koyaanisqatsi but concentrates more on a aesthetic look and does not transmit a political message. The images are astonishingly beautiful. The use of quick-motion and time lapse is great and give the film a very nice artistic touch. The electronic score composed by Michael Stearns accompanies the corresponding footage very smooth and nicely and adds to the overall atmosphere. If you like movies like Baraka or Koyaanisqatsi this movie is a absolute must-see. The photography and composition of this movie is just mesmerizing and brilliant.

You have to listen to the commentary track on the special edition DVD to understand this movie. Many scenes were shot not only in time lapse but also with multiple exposures and multiple frame printing. Because of this we are able to view scenes which are not ordinarily recordable on film in places where artificial lighting is not permitted. This is as close as we will ever get to seeing these places without actually being there.

A supplementary featurette also explains the origins of the music and unique instruments which were used to record it.

Critics should bear in mind that this movie was shot in 1985 on a shoestring budget with a home made camera at a time when IMAX was in its infancy. As such it is a staggering achievement and a landmark movie in the history of cinematography.

This is somewhere between documentary and photography. It has neither a script nor actors, and there is no narrator, no interview, and no still images. This is a moving picture, in the purest sense. The major focus is the time lapse cinematography of Ron Fricke, who also serves as director. That, and the soundtrack by Michael Stearns, is the sum total of "Chronos".

There are deeper meanings to some, intended and accidental, but I won't cheapen things by speculating on what those are. The main drive is the battle of slow versus fast, city versus nature. Much of the time lapse goes by at what appears to be the same speed, but what moves blisteringly fast in the city seems to go by without change or notice in nature. Only the slow march of shadows is apparent across rocks and old ruins. These passages are full and heavy with the weight of time. They pull like the moon on the tides, dragging you back into long forgotten history. It comes like a slow, shallow breath between trains hurtling down tracks to uncertain destinations, and the bleeding blur of strangers up escalators.

I've watched "Chronos" in many different contexts. It's been a relaxing background to the end of a long, tired day, or the full focus of my attention as I appreciate its depth of artistry. At forty-three minutes, it's neither too long to drag or too short to feel cut off. Each time after watching it, I find myself out of place with the speed of things around me. I feel the need to step back and breathe, to run faster, to walk slower. Somehow, some way, "Chronos" changed the way I see time.