Ah,what an opulence! Movie opens with the family luncheon; great hall doors opening to still greater, wider and brilliantly furnished halls with roofs so high up above that the warm air seems to struggle in its attempt to fill the distance, rubbing its back on the tall roof’s ceiling. The dinner table, a mirage of aristocratic splendour; a wide stair case connecting the floor above with the one below resonates with royal charm. Everyone seems to be in great spirit.
The scene with top view of the dinner table in the background and the great silver white chandelier hung before our eyes; the one where the maid attentively collects the coats from the visitors to deposit in a room that seems frightfully bright; one of the maid (impeccably dressed in white overall with red stripes) sliding open the heavy doors -scene after scene, we are presented an unforgivable affluence.
If it ever crossed your mind to quickly arouse your passions of artistic grandeur, this is the movie to watch. Story begins in Milano- here; streets are neatly squeezed between ornamental monuments, towering gargoyles and awe inspiring architecture eclipses the sun and stars. Then for a while in Nice – the road to the restaurant is one of the finest I have seen on screen. The long and winding roadway caresses through the heaving chest of the mountain, through the tunnels, playfully escaping the shadows cast. Spectacular scenes; and mind you, about half the movie down, we are quite unsure of the drama yet.
The affair between the chef and the Italian wife, who loves everything Russian, on an illusory plane, seems to be the central theme. But the colour of beauty, beautiful landscape with tall green trees, the flavours of the garden, nectar of the flowers -all bear the texture of the film together. Without these, it could have been another ordinary movie. The scene where the adulterous couple is making out in the open garden, over the peak of the mountain, under the blissful sun, with horizon shying away in its naked stretch of greenery - this scene alternates mellifluously between the shots of nature and the couple, and is presented as an aid (I believe) for all the critics to indulge in intellectual discourse. The woman, a Russian by birth, being the older of the two, is stung by the beauty of Russian air, but unconsciously deserts her penchant for nature in her marriage. Now, finding the atavistic arousal of her desire for nature, transfixed in her marriage, she stands intrigued.
“Happy is a word that makes one sad”
Oh, the state of restlessness the woman recedes into! Sitting at the dinner table, she hesitates with her hands and legs stiff. Under inertia of love, she is petrified at the thought of spending one more moment without her lover, she longs for him to hover like a bee in the nectar of her eyes. The scene where her son finds out, I thought was handled with an acute care to detail. Generous outpouring of emotions, as it so happens in most of the movies (hollywood), is eschewed, and in its place, recluse nervousness finds a place. Rightful place!
It’s a tragic story, and the eventful scene of revealing the tragedy is so silent, you will miss it, if you are not concentrating. You must see the ending of this movie. This sits there on the top, amongst very few other movies crafted of the most scintillating endings ever to have scripted for the celluloid.
Amazing allegory, magical, transfusional, experimental, dangerously seductive - one of the best endings I have seen. I will call this reverse catharsis.
Comments