Epiphany

No one really talks about Carl Dreyer anymore. He isn't talked about as one of the greatest men in all of cinema history, his films are not much taught in classes, and, with the exception of maybe The Passion of Joan of Arc, his work has not been eternally cemented into a reputation of what it truly is: some of the greatest films to ever be made.

Maybe it's because in the span of his career he only made four major features, or maybe it's because his films were dense, irregular and challenging: there was no meeting them halfway. It was always all or nothing with Dreyer.

I ponder these things because I've just finished watching one of Dreyer's last films Ordet and it has left me levelled; as if I have been knocked down and strew across the floor. I have nothing to say about the film because I do not understand it fully yet, at least thematically speaking, other than to say that it has taken up permanent residence in my brain and continues to live and grow there. Most importantly though is that it reminded me just how powerful and mystical movies can be and how rarely they ever really achieve that. It's not often I've been left feeling like a film has open me up and torn the fabric of my soul to get a peek inside.

But, outside of the theological meanings housed within the plot, Ordet works a stronger magic; it provides deeper realization, which is the realization of just how meaningless most movies are and how much time we waste taking up space by even giving them the time of day. Watching a Dryer film gives one the experience of having witnessed firsthand just how films, when they stretch themselves, don't compromise, trust themselves as serious art, can provide spiritual experiences. Ordet isn't a film: it's a living, breathing organism. It inspires us to truly feel something because it truly lives.

It makes me wonder just what good we think we are doing when we throw geek speech around about the latest Hollywood trailer or take up space deciding that all of this week's new releases probably won't tickle our fancy for no discernible, intelligent, critical reason other than we are vain enough to believe someone out there cares whether or not we want to see this weeks films as if, as critics, we shouldn't anyway. Hell, even I'm guilty when I dedicate space to reviewing something like Sorority Row. Even if my prose is exquisite, my argumentative skills impeccable, my wit razor sharp what does it really add up to? In the end, what I'm saying is, who cares? I've read so much fanboy/girl gushing about how wicked, awesome, cool, brilliant, like totally kick butt Inception is and how like totally sweet a director Christopher Nolan is. But that's an action movie. This, this art, life, culture, spirituality, God, mankind and I'm left to wonder why I've barely ever encountered one word on it? Is there even any young, budding, so-called film lovers left out there who could even be bothered to deal maturely and intelligently with such a staggering work of oneness as Ordet is?



If I'm sounding cynical I apologize. I've been caught in a spell: the blinding brilliance of encountering a rare work of staggering power. Tomorrow I'll be fine and back to knowing that, like Pauline Kael said, although we should strive to acquaint ourselves with great art, it is so rare that we should at least be able to enjoy great trash in the first place because, if we can't be entertained, what purpose do we serve? I enjoy great trash to but that, at the end of the day, only gets one so far. Ordet teaches us how to live, to feel, to think, and to be one with our thoughts, beliefs, feelings, fears and anxieties. Why should we so often be content with so much less these days?