A coworker who often blogs about fashion books suggested I write up a recommendation of a certain 1968 movie musical after I mentioned I had a hole in my pocket. I said sure but decided to Puckishly one up the semiotic slipperiness and give a nod to Chris Marker’s 1983 masterpiece Sans Soleil. Supposedly a film director reading letters from her cameraman lover with accompanying images, the film is a profound Gassian meditation on what it means to remember and what it means to forget. Who would want to watch a meandering 2 ½ hour dreamalogue of people who are far more traveled and poetic then yourself? Apparently, library patrons, as the library’s recently purchased copies already have holds. We are Nashville. You make me proud.
For all its snooty French pretension, what really gets me about this movie is some swee-eat early 80s video effects and a shot of seemingly everyday Japanese people doing public aerobics to Throbbing Gristle. Surely, this is trickery.
Included on the disc is Marker’s dystopian slideshow reinterp of Hitchcock’s Vertigo, Le jetée. Dream your heart out.