This is a five star movie. But many will turn it off after five minutes. For those of us who watch it to the end, we find it at the very minimum intriguing. This word does not do the movie justice. The cinematography is certainly five star. The acting is certainly five star. Is it work of art in general it ranks with the very best. The movie is at once disturbing, puzzling, brilliant, and ambiguous. A loosely stitched plot. If we can even call it a plot. It is really a movie of private thoughts. About love, deceit, pain, relationships of all sorts, and the nausea of Sartre‘s famous book.
The images in virtually every scene, that is architecture and nature, are quite impressive. Even the music, truncated and inserted, is powerful while it punctuates the dialogue in between pauses and phrases. I’m one hand, I dare say that for most moviegoers, even film buffs, this film is too self-absorbed like it’s dialogue and it’s art. On the other hand, if we are to find profound meaning in art of any sort, well it is all about the self then, isn’t it? It must be.
Many thoughtful Ragers, cultural critics, philosophers, and the lake, came to a mostly unspoken conclusion. Absolutely nothing in the overall scope of things matters. Nothing matters. It is for this reason this movie can even exist. A movie where in the performers stumble about quite gracefully, thinking out loud, expressing their thoughts, thoughts we hide from ourselves and others. The very thoughts seem when put into film into dialogue into art, appear quite boring in mundane. Because the some total of these thoughts, these realizations and epiphanies, screams at the absurdness of existence.
In the end I think this movie is generally underrated. As is existence itself.