Great to find someone sharing my pleasure in this film - and after a fair few years. The length promised to be a challenge in the cinema - yet I was taken by surprise when it ended. I have the DVD too. And I completely share your agreement with the translation - the film leads us 'into' absolutely something memorable.
Ah I saw this film in the cinema when it came out, on a truly awkward sort of pseudo-date; but the awkward circumstances could not detract from it. Wonderful film.
Thank you so much for writing this. I’m reading it in the middle of a still and sleepless night and it is stirring all kinds of resonances and reflections. I was thinking of writing about the film myself just the other day. It’s a few years since I last saw it, but it stays with you like nothing else.
Thank you, Mathew - It's been so interesting to hear how many people have seen the film. I only recently saw it mentioned online and it took a while to hunt down a second-hand copy. Worth the effort though.
That’s quite heartening, really. It’s not an obviously approachable film. I came across it while thinking about writing a book on the Dissolution. Something I still want to do - albeit not immediately.
Thank you so much for this contemplation of charged silence. I loved Into Great Silence myself for the hushed intimacy it observed, the calm and order, and that one surprise moment when someone speaks, the way the film welcomed its observers and gathers them into itself and its world. I also really appreciate the way you use the film to think about the paring down of a poem to its essential life and essence. A really beautiful piece - thank you again.
Thank you for writing about this film. I saw it in 2005 as a much younger person. I struggled to stay in the cinema. The ponderous way the snow fell, the shivering candles, my ache for sound. All felt like torture to the running in me. In the years since, my mind has returned to these images. What are these barely detailed scenes? The candles lit, one and one and one in mostly dark. The snow falling in memory as monetary relief. Why do I recall this film so vividly, when many others are lost? And, ah, here you help me see it: it is the silence, it is the poem.
Great to find someone sharing my pleasure in this film - and after a fair few years. The length promised to be a challenge in the cinema - yet I was taken by surprise when it ended. I have the DVD too. And I completely share your agreement with the translation - the film leads us 'into' absolutely something memorable.
Ah I saw this film in the cinema when it came out, on a truly awkward sort of pseudo-date; but the awkward circumstances could not detract from it. Wonderful film.
I cannot image this as a good date movie!
It certainly wasn't. Though as I remember, that was sort of the point . . .
Thank you so much for writing this. I’m reading it in the middle of a still and sleepless night and it is stirring all kinds of resonances and reflections. I was thinking of writing about the film myself just the other day. It’s a few years since I last saw it, but it stays with you like nothing else.
Thank you, Mathew - It's been so interesting to hear how many people have seen the film. I only recently saw it mentioned online and it took a while to hunt down a second-hand copy. Worth the effort though.
That’s quite heartening, really. It’s not an obviously approachable film. I came across it while thinking about writing a book on the Dissolution. Something I still want to do - albeit not immediately.
Thank you so much for this contemplation of charged silence. I loved Into Great Silence myself for the hushed intimacy it observed, the calm and order, and that one surprise moment when someone speaks, the way the film welcomed its observers and gathers them into itself and its world. I also really appreciate the way you use the film to think about the paring down of a poem to its essential life and essence. A really beautiful piece - thank you again.
Thanks so much for the comment, Michael. I'm so glad to hear of others who love this beautiful film. My warmest, Niall
Thank you for writing about this film. I saw it in 2005 as a much younger person. I struggled to stay in the cinema. The ponderous way the snow fell, the shivering candles, my ache for sound. All felt like torture to the running in me. In the years since, my mind has returned to these images. What are these barely detailed scenes? The candles lit, one and one and one in mostly dark. The snow falling in memory as monetary relief. Why do I recall this film so vividly, when many others are lost? And, ah, here you help me see it: it is the silence, it is the poem.
Thanks so much, Kirstie. That's a lovely remembrance. It'll stay with me too.