Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Empty Salons...Corridors...Salons...Doors...Doors...Salons

Repeat in French. Fade in and out. Wander, in an extended take, through the building i see in my dreams. Do not make sense. Do not pass go. Do not let the organ stop playing. Look at the people. Look how they freeze. They stand like statues. They cast long shadows, but the hedges cast no shadow. Oh yes, it's profound! It's poetry! It's concentrated beauty and unadulturated nonsense! I have seen it! Watched for 90 minutes that felt like hours with my own two eyes! What is this miraculous slice of celluloid? It is the quintessential art film, the film upon which millions of art students have unknowingly based their own short pieces, the film that spawned millions more who loathe the pretention of foreign art house cinema. It is Last Year at Marienbad. Oh.....empty salons....corridors....salons...doors...doors.....glass partitions....Coco Chanel....


What happened Last Year at Marienbad? Well, perhaps we met. Perhaps we didn't. Maybe you asked me to run away with you. Maybe you didn't. Maybe i said i would. Maybe i didn't. Maybe you're lying. Maybe you're not. Maybe i'm playing along. Maybe i'm not. It was certainly lovely, wasn't it? Why yes! Yes, i'm very sure it was! Darling, Last Year, maybe at Marienbad, maybe here or there, maybe Frederiksbad, we saw a statue. We talked about the statue, we played a game with matches or cards or cigarettes and someone always wins but we don't know why. There was a bedroom, but then again...no. But wasn't it grand? Well, certainly.
It was hypnotic. You would speak, crowds would freeze. They were empty anyway. We're alone. We are strangers, but we've met before. There could be an answer, but probably not. Do you love me? I think so, yet, actually, i don't know your name. But this luxury, this palace, the dark glamour of this lush hotel, it's something to talk about. We should explore it. Oh...empty salons...corridors....doors.....gilded ceilings....

Can you hear the organ? It's terrible isn't it? So menacing. So ominous. A silent film soundtrack to a scene in which all we do is speak. All we do is recite from memory the poetry of our souls. Can you feel the romance? The attempt to sway the heart with sumptuous eye candy and invented relationships. It's palpable. It's everywhere. Let us visualize our thoughts. There is no time, there is no space, outside (of course) of these glorious walls...these empty salons....
What happened? I'm not sure. I care. Maybe i don't. I know. Maybe i don't. I am here. Maybe, i'm not. Is it cinema? Yes, it is. It is a masterpiece. Maybe it's not. Is it intellectual? Yes. Maybe, no. Is it now? Maybe last year.

Hiroshima, mon amour? No, that was the other year. The year before last. This was at Marienbad....empty salons.....corridors....salons...doors...doors...salons.....weren't they divine?

Yes. A thousand times yes. And yet, no. To the end, Monsieur Resnais.

No comments:

Post a Comment

LinkWithin

Related Posts with Thumbnails