What would happen if we could live a series of past lives, strung together like pearls, with full cognition of them all? Orlando, written and directed by Sally Potter, explores this theme, but then also weaves another few strands along the way. The title character, played by Tilda Swinton, plays Orlando like a skittish school girl, who remains confused and emotionally isolated from herself, those dearest to her, and the world at large.
While visually fascinating, Orlando bounds helter-skelter through 400 years of history and politics to make some fuzzy social commentary on gender, sexism, and love. The score is perhaps the most interesting element in a film that fails to connect with this viewer. It travels well through Orlando's four centuries, complimenting Swinton's movements with vibrations that haunt our senses. Like most art house period pieces, the sets are sumptuous creations, if a bit overblown with fabric and muted color.
I kept asking myself was Swinton's restrained performance purposely done---or just purposeless? Well, with art house cinema, we'll be debating that for many centuries ourselves!
While visually fascinating, Orlando bounds helter-skelter through 400 years of history and politics to make some fuzzy social commentary on gender, sexism, and love. The score is perhaps the most interesting element in a film that fails to connect with this viewer. It travels well through Orlando's four centuries, complimenting Swinton's movements with vibrations that haunt our senses. Like most art house period pieces, the sets are sumptuous creations, if a bit overblown with fabric and muted color.
I kept asking myself was Swinton's restrained performance purposely done---or just purposeless? Well, with art house cinema, we'll be debating that for many centuries ourselves!