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Director's Statement
A film about bodies, about the degradation of one body, about how faces change. A film about how bodies occupy a space. A film about silence an uncontainable outpours.
It examines the skin, the folds, wrinkles, down and sweat. Bruises, contusions and red blotches, shoulders that are bared, pants, socks and stockings that are slipped off, the marks they leave. Purplish scars, suppurations, stains an the bed sheets.
Filming from different angles, from above and from below. Close up or from a distance. Beards that grow, sweaters that are lifted or pulled off, a shirt that opens to expose a breast, body hair that is shaven, hair that grows back, a bra strap that slips off, a shoulder, a back.
A silent movie with, at times, a good deal of talking. Speech that gets interrupted or overlaps. Speech that repeats itself and suddenly breaks off. A film about silence.
A film in black-and-white with a good deal of color: the color of faces, their paleness, the color of skin, the most beautiful of colors, a color that helps one live and restores hope.
A world where you can do nothing for others, where no one can help anyone, where the head doctor in the end admits she knows nothing and can find no solution. A mother who lives in her own dream world, a remote father, one who talks too much, the other not enough. A whole family the narrator had stopped seeing and that now sweeps down on him, all these people who re-appear for the occasion: a family has slipped into the procession of death throes. No one makes love anymore, desire is dead, bodies have grown cold and silent, gazes are impenetrable.
A simple little film about something fairly ordinary, an illness that isn't the worst of diseases but that can still be fatal; an illness you can live with provided you accept the abiding risk of an accident. That's it: you have to accept the risk. That's what the film is all about. Thomas can't accept it.
But in the end, compassion resides with the survivor: this younger broth who is taken hostage, so to speak, and who holds his older brother in arms, massages him, embraces him. And takes him hostage, in turn.
A short film, a fast-flowing film. Something like a fragment. Or else, a still life. A fragment or two of universal pain.