Films with traditional narratives are all right, I guess, but once in a while it becomes necessary to immerse yourself in a movie that eschews complete narrative coherence. Beau Travail, which follows a tale similar to Melville's Billy Budd, is one such movie.
It's not confounding in the manner of an Eraserhead; you will not find yourself forever scratching your head, wondering what on earth the director was aiming for. Quite the opposite: It's a languid dissection of one (noticeably ugly) man's attempt to destroy a thing of beauty--Sentain. What's most interesting to me is that, in the sand of Djibouti, Sentain is not the only beautiful man, nor is he the only thing of beauty. Galoup's desire to destroy Sentain is, as a result, slightly arbitrary and therefore more resonant than it would be in another setting.
What is astounding, and slightly confounding in this film, is its slightly elliptical story-telling. The scenes here do follow a chronology, but, simultaneously, layer upon one another. The moments depicted could occur at any moment in relation to any other moment. The precise connection between one scene and the next is not entirely necessary to watch the film. This is a frustrating position for some viewers, I suppose, because it demands a little more of your attention. However, the feelings conjured by this sort of narrative style are immensely pleasurable. I feel, watching this movie, as if I am floating, eyes-closed, upon the sea at night; the loss of concrete perception thrills and frightens you at the same time.
Such storytelling also gives Beau Travail a hallucinatory quality that complements the equally hallucinatory visual scheme. Claire Denis is among the most impressive visual stylists working in cinema today. She has a sense of color, composition, and light that is both painterly and remarkably cinematic. Her framing and compositions are not quite epic, but they approach that feeling.
All in all, Beau Travail is truly a handsome work and one that I urge adventurous movie- lovers to seek out.
It's not confounding in the manner of an Eraserhead; you will not find yourself forever scratching your head, wondering what on earth the director was aiming for. Quite the opposite: It's a languid dissection of one (noticeably ugly) man's attempt to destroy a thing of beauty--Sentain. What's most interesting to me is that, in the sand of Djibouti, Sentain is not the only beautiful man, nor is he the only thing of beauty. Galoup's desire to destroy Sentain is, as a result, slightly arbitrary and therefore more resonant than it would be in another setting.
What is astounding, and slightly confounding in this film, is its slightly elliptical story-telling. The scenes here do follow a chronology, but, simultaneously, layer upon one another. The moments depicted could occur at any moment in relation to any other moment. The precise connection between one scene and the next is not entirely necessary to watch the film. This is a frustrating position for some viewers, I suppose, because it demands a little more of your attention. However, the feelings conjured by this sort of narrative style are immensely pleasurable. I feel, watching this movie, as if I am floating, eyes-closed, upon the sea at night; the loss of concrete perception thrills and frightens you at the same time.
Such storytelling also gives Beau Travail a hallucinatory quality that complements the equally hallucinatory visual scheme. Claire Denis is among the most impressive visual stylists working in cinema today. She has a sense of color, composition, and light that is both painterly and remarkably cinematic. Her framing and compositions are not quite epic, but they approach that feeling.
All in all, Beau Travail is truly a handsome work and one that I urge adventurous movie- lovers to seek out.