”When facing a flat landscape, I see nothing but eternity. Am I the only one to see it? Existence can't be without reason.”
Musings on the purpose of art and on the inherent fallibility of our perception of reality around us, taken to its most fractured extremes. Vibrant colorful and picturesque shots of the French countryside interrupted by moments of confusion and abject terror.
Van Gogh is depicted as a man who firmly believes he can see the true essence…
”You live in a dream. You're a sleepwalker, blind. How do you know what the world is like? Do you know the world is a foul sty? Do you know, if you rip off the fronts of houses, you'd find swine? The world's a hell. What does it matter what happens in it?”
A sappy and saccharine caricature of an idyllic middle class all-American family is invaded by a walking shadow. He seems to serve as a living disillusionment, a…
Clash of cultures, apocalyptic visions and meditations on the nature of memory and dreams.
A tribal mysticism strangled and suffocated under the weight of modernity, yet still spilling through the cracks of the very foundation we stand on. Mysterious storms aside, even just the gorgeous shots of an orange foreboding sky seem to suggest the earth itself is offended by this folly.
And by the end you feel as though you snapped back from a waking dream, though the uncanniness seems to stick to your skin from out the screen. Weir’s genius never falters.
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