VISAGES VILLAGES (Faces Places) B
France (89 mi) 2017
d: Agnès Varda and JR
Like the French crowdpleaser AMÉLIE (2001) that warmed the
hearts of patrons around the globe, this is a feel-good film exploring how art
imitates life, becoming a source of inspiration to local villages visited en
route in this quasi road movie where 88-year old filmmaker Agnès Varda and
33-year old photographer and wall muralist JR join forces to scour the
countrysides, visiting towns with working class histories, then photographing
the locals and enlarging their portraits into giant-size black and white
photographs that are then pasted onto the walls of the town, creating a starkly
recognizable kind of art instillation that pays tribute to their work. It’s curious that JR, always seen in dark
glasses and wearing the same hat, is the same age as Varda when she shot CLEO
FROM 5 TO 7 in 1962, as his youth and energy is regularly contrasted against
her deteriorating health, including failing eyesight, constantly teasing her
about her diminutive size and her inability to climb up and down the scaffolds
used in their work. While both have
backgrounds in photography, what sets them apart in this film is their
interaction with local residents, and while no doubt much of it is staged, their
encouragement nonetheless feels genuine, something the locals appreciate, as
they are being honored in their own communities, bringing pride, but also in
some cases a great deal of embarrassment when the enlarged figure is more
socially reclusive, where all the attention also brings a certain element of
discomfort, yet the artists themselves are motivated by an uplifting spirit of
joy, bringing a bit of whimsical happiness into the dreary routines of ordinary
lives. Opening and closing in animated
sequences, featuring original music by French musician Matthieu Chedid (stage
name –M-), that perfectly matches the overall mood of the film, playful and
lighthearted, yet pleasantly upbeat.
After the obligatory meet, where each is introduced to the other, cleverly
expressing a variety of ways in which they did “not” meet, an interesting
choreography of misdirection, both have a special affection for the other,
where Varga recognizes right away that JR has a unique relationship with the
elderly, as he’s patient and respectful, always showing respect, something she
appreciates and values, so their chemistry throughout the film is sparked by
their differences, but also a mutual interest in working together, as what
they’re capable of producing is nothing less than remarkable.
As they choose places to visit, they travel in a kind of
wayback machine, a vehicle that looks right out of Wim Wenders’ Kings
of the Road (Im Lauf der Zeit) Road Trilogy Pt. 3 (1976), yet it
houses a photography studio inside as well as a developing machine that
generates epic, giant-sized photographs that become eye-popping visual
statements, similar to album cover art designs on classic LP records, like the
Beatles Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club
Band released in 1967, which is designed to capture the imagination. In this way, the past is integrated into the
present, using modernist techniques, which in this case literally alter the
French landscape, creating iconic works that people will travel to visit, much
like they do works created by landscape sculptor Andy Goldsworthy, the subject
of the film RIVERS AND TIDES (2001) (Rivers and Tides), creating
monumental works of ephemeral art that exist within the natural world, such as
carefully placed rock or leaf formations, capturing a photograph upon
completion, though his work will eventually be swept away by the winds of time.
Similarly, Varda and JR contemplate what
to do with a giant rock formation lying on the beach, a German machine-gun
fortress built on the top of the cliffs during WWII, pushed over the edge half
a century ago when it was hanging precipitously over the edge, representing a clear
danger to residents, suddenly alone and out of place while standing on
edge. Having to work during low tide, as
the ocean would otherwise sweep them away, they produce a moving image on this
giant rock, a fleeting memory of Varda working with one of her favorite models
earlier in her career, yet it’s all washed away by the thunderous tides by the
very next day. This sense of transience
mirrors Varda’s dominating thoughts as she approaches her own mortality,
claiming she’s not afraid of death, and even looks forward to it, claiming when
the inevitable happens, “That’ll be that.”
Obviously, her approach is far different than JR, who still feels
invincible at his young age, as if he’ll never die, leaving his imprint on the
landscape wherever he goes, like an urban graffiti artist, something that
captured Varda’s eye in the first place, marveling at his quirky
inventiveness. Initially they travel
into a mining community, revealing a strip of tenement housing that was formerly
utilized by miners and their families, that has been all but abandoned except
for one stubborn hold out, paying homage to the profession, where they cover
the walls with blown-up vintage photographs of miners from Varda’s collection
of old postcards, while also photographing that final resident, blowing it up
so it covers the entire wall of her apartment, where she is overcome by emotion
when she sees what they’ve produced, never imagining such a thing could ever
happen.
As they encounter farmers, waitresses, and factory workers,
this becomes a working class travelogue where people are asked to offer their
reflections about what they do for a living, with Varda and JR countering their
thoughts through a combination of memory and artistic design, as Varda often
recalls earlier experiences in some of these towns, where she is reminded of
friends that are no longer with us, rummaging through old photographs, where
these visits offer a kind of therapy, summoning up ghosts of the past, then
re-integrating them onto a modern landscape.
A common element that appears in her films is the everpresent image of
cats, like the resurrection of the ghost of Chris Marker, where some of the
better shots in the film involve cats that couldn’t look any happier,
completely content where they are. At
one farm, there are more than a dozen hovering around the owner as she opens
the shutters to feed her bevy of cats at dinnertime, each one more lively and
alert than the next, but all exerting a strange and mysterious force. JR is brilliant in his spatial conception,
exerting a quick mind that easily adapts to challenges, while Varda takes her
time and ruminates over things, exploring her memory banks, finding common
connections, recalling things that are most important to her, where
subjectivity is the key to her art, but both, in their own way, leave their
imprint. One of the delights of the film
is hearing Agnès Varda sing “Ring My Bell” Anita Ward - Ring
My Bell - YouTube (2:40), a disco song from the 70’s, while driving
through the French countryside. While
there are a few clips from earlier Varda films, there are not many, as it’s
interesting that they choose images that JR recalls. For Varda, she can’t get it out of her head
that this guy never removes his sunglasses, day or night, believing they are a
wall that separates them, finding it difficult to get past that. It reminds her of an earlier short slapstick
film she made with filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard in 1961, "Les Fiancés Du Pont
Macdonald" short film by Agnès ... - Dailymotion (4:56), which briefly
interrupts her feature film, CLEO FROM 5 TO 7 (1962), adding comic levity,
eliciting a smile from Cleo, where for her, he took off his everpresent dark
glasses and allowed her to film him “exposed,” so to speak, something that
obviously means a great deal to her, as it never really happened with anyone
else. Varda gets the idea to go visit
Godard at his home, including him in her picture, like bookends at different
phases of her life, but when they arrive at his door, they are surprised by the
elaborate security measures taken where a locked glass shield prevents them
from even ringing the doorbell, finding instead a cryptic message written on
the glass window. On the surface, the
message doesn’t appear hurtful, but that’s not the way Varda sees it, as she’s
extremely hurt by what she thinks are cruel intentions, perhaps revealing
something we’ve always known about Godard, being something of an asshole, but
never heard anyone actually say. This is
an emotional haymaker from which the film never recovers, knocking Varda and
the viewers off balance, wondering what could possibly be the source of such a
disappointment in her eyes, as throughout her career, few are seen as more openly
generous than she is, but a charming little animated sequence closes the film
with more music by –M-.
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