There's a review called "The Sound of Silence in le Samurai" ('Le Samurai', Melville, 1967) by Silvia Moreno-Garcia that was published on Criterion.com in August 2021. It focused on the scene from which these frames were lifted: the police break into Delon's apartment and fix a bug. As the lock is being picked, a second officer skulks in the hallway, listening to neighbor's doors.
So, frames one through four: The bannister pattern in the hallway - stairs leading down to the left, stars heading up to the right; a figure cautiously listening; the closed door's locked latch; the caged bird inside the apartment. (I've never understood whether there's something about the behavior or appearance of the bird that tips off Delon when he returns to the apartment, but it does seem significant.)
I'm happy with this one because of the washed look the painbucket gives the images. There's no chance of making out what's going on in the post-washed third frame, and the texture of the man's coat is engaging to me.
So this one is about ragged, torn lines and angles, and textures.
The title from the poem "Credences of Summer" by Wallace Stevens. It seemed apt, that memories are flitting around aimlessly.
There's a review called "The Sound of Silence in le Samurai" ('Le Samurai', Melville, 1967) by Silvia Moreno-Garcia that was published on Criterion.com in August 2021. It focused on the scene from which these frames were lifted: the police break into Delon's apartment and fix a bug. As the lock is being picked, a second officer skulks in the hallway, listening to neighbor's doors.
ReplyDeleteSo, frames one through four: The bannister pattern in the hallway - stairs leading down to the left, stars heading up to the right; a figure cautiously listening; the closed door's locked latch; the caged bird inside the apartment. (I've never understood whether there's something about the behavior or appearance of the bird that tips off Delon when he returns to the apartment, but it does seem significant.)
I'm happy with this one because of the washed look the painbucket gives the images. There's no chance of making out what's going on in the post-washed third frame, and the texture of the man's coat is engaging to me.
So this one is about ragged, torn lines and angles, and textures.
The title from the poem "Credences of Summer" by Wallace Stevens. It seemed apt, that memories are flitting around aimlessly.
https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/7502-the-sound-of-silence-in-le-samoura