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Sans Soleil

There is a tendency while watching Sans Soleil to press your thumb down on it. Keep in in place. But it is hardly a corporeal thing and the weight of a finger means nothing to it as it flits off to another corner of the world. Another dusty pocket in your mind. As it pulls itself from your grasp though, it may leave a piece of itself under your nail, which when picked out, might turn out to be another entire universe of its own to discover. So pick at your nails. Collect the wonderful dirt. Explore.

Ultimately, I find some difficulty focusing on a film with such a large scope, especially when much of it plays with the deliberately mundane. Or references moments in history or culture or philosophy I know very little about. Because of this, I donít think I will ever know what the full shape of it is in its entirety, or what it wholly means. But when treated like a room full of voices, and I present myself as nothing but an ear at the door, there can be a comfort found in the murmur coming from inside. Especially when, every once and awhile, an image or a phrase rises above the din and strikes a chord. Makes the entire film vibrate with an undefinable emotion.

Does this mean the movie is a success? I donít know. But I do wish there were more like it.