Sport de filles
There are people for whom nothing counts except what really counts. Or to put it another way, people who refuse to be tamed for anything less than the best. This inevitably brings suffering, puts them in a bad mood, and tends to make them solitary beings, and any pathway out of all of these moods and problems is long, circuitous and difficult.
One could call this one of the greatest sports films of all time, but the filmmakers are not interested in generic expectations: it is made by people who seem to care only about seeing what hints they can find concerning the mysterious sources of the magic that lies hidden in the very specific world they are exploring, and about how that translates into an irresistible need to go in search of the elusive and the extraordinary, which does not at all mean that the search is not inextricably entangled with all kinds of profane motives too.
What’s unusual is also that all the characters simply say what’s on their mind, talk about what matters to them, rather than, like most dramas, using speech as a kind of weapon and armour with which to conceal things, manipulate one another, and in general play games. Here, the words they throw at each other are part of a general conflict, but the conflict is about what people do and what they want, conflicts that arise from differences of desire and point of view, not, as in most movies, about what they say. Even a bad cup of coffee means that the vendor needs to hear the simple statement that it’s bad. It’s so refreshing, enjoyable and energising.
This film has a very unusual kind of emotional power, feels like it could only have been directed by a woman, and is not quite like any other movie. No doubt it is not a film for everyone, but what counts is never for everyone, and the fact that it has been almost completely neglected is an utter travesty. I think Agnès Varda would have been proud. Probably the most important example of hors(e)ganological cinema thus far achieved, and in fact, despite the director not herself being interested in horses, there is quite a bit to say about this, but that will have to wait for another occasion.
One could call this one of the greatest sports films of all time, but the filmmakers are not interested in generic expectations: it is made by people who seem to care only about seeing what hints they can find concerning the mysterious sources of the magic that lies hidden in the very specific world they are exploring, and about how that translates into an irresistible need to go in search of the elusive and the extraordinary, which does not at all mean that the search is not inextricably entangled with all kinds of profane motives too.
What’s unusual is also that all the characters simply say what’s on their mind, talk about what matters to them, rather than, like most dramas, using speech as a kind of weapon and armour with which to conceal things, manipulate one another, and in general play games. Here, the words they throw at each other are part of a general conflict, but the conflict is about what people do and what they want, conflicts that arise from differences of desire and point of view, not, as in most movies, about what they say. Even a bad cup of coffee means that the vendor needs to hear the simple statement that it’s bad. It’s so refreshing, enjoyable and energising.
This film has a very unusual kind of emotional power, feels like it could only have been directed by a woman, and is not quite like any other movie. No doubt it is not a film for everyone, but what counts is never for everyone, and the fact that it has been almost completely neglected is an utter travesty. I think Agnès Varda would have been proud. Probably the most important example of hors(e)ganological cinema thus far achieved, and in fact, despite the director not herself being interested in horses, there is quite a bit to say about this, but that will have to wait for another occasion.
Mini Review: There are people for whom nothing counts except what really counts. That tends to make them solitary beings, and any pathway out of it is long, circuitous and difficult. Could be called one of the greatest sports films of all time, but the filmmakers are not interested in generic expectations. Has a very unusual kind of emotional power, feels like it could only have been directed by a woman, and is not quite like any other movie. No doubt not for everyone, but what counts is never for everyone.