(In fact the opening shot, in which the moving camera locates the heroine in an endless ocean of wheat, points up the film's alliance to Murnau.) Charting a more linear trajectory than the director’s autobiographical, memory-infused work, Sunset Song has a far more conventional flow. It’s odd to say this about someone whose oeuvre is so linked to music, but Davies, with his direct emotions and gestures, is the working filmmaker I can most see doing silent cinema. These are things that cry for a massive canvas, and I imagine that Davies, who combines digital cameras with 65mm film, would’ve savored the fact that it premiered here in an IMAX theater usually reserved for the blockbusters he professes to despise. The verdant and golden textures of the farming hills, now shimmering, now muddy, now carpeted with snow, now set ablaze. The moment in which Mullan’s patriarch, debilitated by a stroke but more oppressive than ever, reaches out to his daughter for a caress that suddenly becomes a grip. Deyn’s visage, at first smooth like porcelain yet before our eyes accumulating a sense of lived experience that seems to age and strengthen character and actress alike from within.
I could not, however, imagine seeing Sunset Song any other way than on the vastest of screens.
MUHAMMAD THE MOVIE 2015 ONLINE TV
I can think of several fine films I’ve seen at this year’s TIFF that could be watched non-detrimentally on, say, a laptop’s monitor or a regular TV set. Then the battleground calls, as seemingly inescapable as a darkening season, all “part of life’s plan…” Her mum (Daniela Nardini) is pushed into suicide and her brother (Jack Greenless) escapes abuse by leaving home, but Chris must endure domestic harshness until an incident allows her a hopeful new beginning with a tenderhearted beau (Kevin Guthrie). Taking place in a bucolic Scottish village in the years leading up to World War I, Davies’ sprawling narrative centers characteristically on a sensitive gaze absorbing and challenging a dour world: Young Chris (Agyness Deyn), a farm lass whose lucidity and vivaciousness make for a stark contrast with the fundamental violence of her severe father (Peter Mullan).
A passion project for the great British filmmaker with a decade-long production history of false starts, this adaptation of Lewis Grassic Gibbon's 1932 Scottish novel emerges as a full-bodied reverie of faces and landscapes, splendor and pain. I’m eager to catch up with both of these young directors’ visions, but first let me tell you about a veteran’s vision, namely Terence Davies’ in the visually lambent, deeply affecting Sunset Song. Happy to hear of your findings, especially the new films by Federico Veiroj and Kazik Radwanski, whose previous features ( A Useful Life and Tower, respectively) struck me as brimming with distinctive talent and sensitivity.
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