| Beaches of Agnes |
|
|
|
Beaches of Agnes
"I'm playing the role of the little old lady, pleasantly plump and talkative, telling her life story," she begins, disarmingly. But this little old lady is a great visual artist, so Beaches of Agnes is full of images and grace. There are words, but she is more interested in getting us to "see deeply" as she puts it. "I don't want to show things, but to give people the desire to see." This is a love letter to her life and to her family and friends, and a it's privilege for us to share. Her movie is a kind of visual scrapbook in which she digs out a succession of sepia photos, fragments, reels, relics, haunting images, tapes, and art installations from the past, mainly about her favorite beaches, waves, sailing, places she lived and worked - and also about her "Patatutopia" entry to the Venice Biennale, starring her in a potato costume with her potato photos and seven hundred kilos of potatoes. Constantly at play, her artist's eye frames a series of artful images - a few mirrors opposite a turbulent sea bring breakers, surfboards, waves, sails into focus: a reverie in blues and grays. As much a photographer and artist as a filmmaker - she saw only a handful of movies growing up - she creates art out of her surroundings ceaselessly. The results are deceptively simple and full of color. Later, she builds and crawls inside a blue-tarpaulin whale. "If we opened people up, we'd find landscapes... but if we opened me up, we'd see beaches." But it is other people who intrigue her, she says: the Bohemian friends that people her early movies, Cleo from 5 to 7, Vagabond and One Sings, The Other Doesn't. She includes the great stars of French national theater, plus sculptor Alexander Calder, a very young Catherine Deneuve and Jane Birkin, Harrison Ford on an abortive film test, and Gérard Depardieu as a predatory beatnik. Avant-garde director Chris Marker appears as a cat image complete with a growl. Other New Wave auteurs like Alain Resnais and Jean-Luc Godard were also associates, but unlike them she did not start filmmaking as a critic. Her director husband Jacques Demy of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is lovingly recalled; they worked together, and she made a film account of his early life, Jacquot of Nantes. Pictures of them working side by side in their converted windmill on an offshore island, with or without their children, show a couple united in calm creativity. "Any man who gazes at the sea is Ulysses, a Ulysses who doesn't always want to come home," she says. Her films arrived sporadically between other art projects. Although some - Cleo From 5 to 7 and Le Bonheur in particular - were commercial hits, a segment about filming on location shows her juggling the many roles of director, and the financial headaches seem irksome. Perhaps this is one reason why she did not film more. Working with her husband on his films and her preference for images to narrative may also have counted, along with their long hiatus in Southern California. In the background on her soundtrack, as driven and as arresting as breakers in the sea, she has chosen Schubert's Unfinished 8th Symphony. It seems appropriate - still not finished, we hope, Madame Varda?
Set as favorite
Bookmark
Email this
Comments (0)
![]() Write comment
|











