I get what you’re saying but I think if I were to get hyperbolic I’d say this would apply more to a philosophically, rather than physically, constructionist lens. While Rivette is a very spatially aware filmmaker and clearly enjoys capturing the freedom of bodily expression and tangible movement, I’m more interested in how this skill is linked to one’s harmony between their internal isolating struggles and the possibility of the outside world. I just read Rosenbaum’s analysis which expressed my thoughts better than I could on how the ability to participate in a musical stems from romanticism, which is only possible through that relationship between the self and their milieu. I don’t think that specific dissection of what a musical means has been done as well before, but to your point it absolutely hinges on Rivette’s mastery over space and experimental authenticity of character. This isn’t the first time he’s allowed actresses to form their own roles but here it lends a very particular ingredient to accessing that relaxed autonomy that yields empowered vulnerability in musical performance.soundchaser wrote: ↑Fri Apr 10, 2020 2:38 amI might be exaggerating here, but I think this is the musical that best understands what it is to *be* a musical — in terms of necessity of movement, framing, and subject matter. The way Rivette teaches us from the first scene how his characters move and what that motion means is almost unreal, and then he takes that and says “ok, now that you understand what character movement means, here’s what camera movement means.”
This also explains why Laurence Côte’s character feels left out, who - with only one watch under my belt - feels like a peculiar outlier of a character. Her purpose appears to function as a recognition of the polar position mirroring the other girls; one of self-inflicted barriers to participating in the ‘musical’ romanticism of life, which requires shedding of rigid control (and literally so in dance, loosening up body posture, getting out of one’s head, and going with the flow).
However, one of my favorite parts of the film is when she looks at herself alone in the mirror declaring “behind me there is nothing, as if I had no past” before breaking into quiet song about having no ties or connections to her world. The strange aspect is that she is at her most playful in this scene, flaunting herself around her apartment wrapping herself in scarves and she seems almost liberated by this lack, as if it’s a source of freedom. Does the fact that she sings to herself without accompanying music signify that she is holding herself back from participating in the fantastical aspects of the musical? Or does she have more confidence than we give her credit for? Rivette seems to be deliberately subverting the expectation to delve further here, and if she is intended to be the reciprocal yang to the yin of that whimsical surrender, what of the ending?