French Visionary Cinema

Oddball Films Media • Apr 22, 2016






Insomnie (Color & B+W, 1963, Pierre Etaix)
A delightfully comedic send-off to the vampire-melodrama written by, starring and directed by French clown, comedian, and acclaimed filmmaker Pierre Etaix. A man (played by Etaix) is having trouble sleeping.  He takes pills, settles in and yet, nothing.  He begins to read a vampire novel, fading in and out of the narrative (and even playing the head vampire as well) as he gets more and more insomniomatic.  As daylight enters the story and "real" life as well, the man finally falls asleep, only to realize the blood-sucking has only just begun!





Anemic Cinema (1926, B+W, Silent)
Directed by Marcel Duchamp and Man Ray
“I have forced myself to contradict myself in order to avoid conforming to my own taste.”




-Marcel Duchamp






The only film to come from the founder of the Dadaism movement (artistic and literary movement from 1916-1923 “Anemic Cinema” is an abstract and annalistic film short containing rotating circles and spirals interlaced with spinning discs of words strung together in elaborate nonsensical French puns.






"Duchamp used the initial payment on his inheritance to make a film and to go into the art business. The film, shot in Man Ray's studio with the help of cinematographer Marc Allégret, was a seven-minute animation of nine punning phrases by his alter ego Rrose Sélavy. These had been pasted, letter by letter, in a spiral pattern on round black discs that were then glued to phonograph records; the slowly revolving texts alternate with shots of Duchamp's Discs Bearing Spirals, ten abstract designs whose turning makes them appear to move backward and forward in an erotic rhythm. The little film, which Duchamp called Anemic Cinema, had its premiere that August at a private screening room in Paris." -Calvin Tomkins






Blood of a Poet: Episode 2: “Do Walls Have Ears?” (B+W, 1932)



80 years after its release, Cocteau’s landmark film, a sort of abstract allegory of artistic inspiration and the often-painful process of creation, still feels fresh. We’ll look at the second of the four episodes, in which our poet, prompted by a statue come to life (photographer Lee Miller in her only cinematic role), steps through a mirror and into a corridor of locked doors, peeping through keyholes to stare at the strangest of spectacles, sights perhaps better left unseen.




Says Julia Levin in Senses of Cinema: “For Cocteau, poetry was the foundation of all the arts: he published his first volume of poetry at the age of 19, and remained consistently faithful to writing poetry throughout most of his life. Essentially, Cocteau created a visual poem with this film, a tribute to the artistic process and the pain and self-reflecting doubt it causes. The young poet’s journey to a mysterious hotel becomes an exploration of the artistic process. In the hotel, the young poet voyeuristically witnesses – while looking through a keyhole – a serious of shocking, uncomfortable scenes. Cocteau presents artistic effort as a dangerous, dark, self-inflicting act of suffering…”


Dream of the Wild Horses (Color, 1962)
Directed by Denys Colomb de Daunant with innovative musical score by Jacques Lasri this cinematic poem which uses slow motion and soft focus camera to evoke the wild horses of the Camargue District of France, showing them as they roam on the beach running through walls of fire and water.  A remarkable film.


Entr’acte (B+W, 1924)
This extraordinary early film from director René Clair was originally made to fill an interval between two acts of Francis Picabia’s new ballet, Relâche, at the Théâtre des Champs- Elysées in Paris in 1924. Entr’acte is a surrealistic concoction of unrelated images, reflecting Clair’s interest in Dada, a radical art form relying on experimentation and surreal expressionism. Clair’s imagery is both captivating and disturbing, giving life to inanimate objects (most notably the rifle range dummies), whilst attacking conventions, even the sobriety of a funeral march. The surrealist photographer Man Ray also puts in an appearance, in a film which curiously resembles his own experimental films of this era.



An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge (B+W, 1962, Robert Enrico)
Robert Enrico's Cannes and Oscar-winning adaptation of Ambrose Bierce's haunting tail of a Confederate soldier about to be hanged for the crime of defacing the very bridge he's to be executed off of.  As he nears the fatal moment, he thinks back to his lovely wife and his homestead; a breathtaking romantic fever dream of a condemned man.



Melange de Méliès!
The Inn Where No Man Rests (B+W, 1903) 
Devilry with inanimate objects was Melies stock-in-trade. It's bad enough that our weary traveler is tormented out of a peaceful night by his boots, the bed and just about any object with which Melies can play tricks. The ruckus brings the other guests and things really get out of hand. 

The Witch's Revenge (B+W, 1903) 
In trouble with the king for practicing witchcraft, a sorcerer tries to conjure his way out of trouble. His offer to magic up the woman of the ruler's his dreams by way of wizardry goes absurdly awry.


Hypothèse Beta (Color, 1967) 
An Oscar-nominated French filmed animation, which deals with an isolated computer punch card perforation who tries to join groups of well-behaved perforations, is rebuffed, and finally manages to create complete disorder. Remember punch cards? Neither do I.


Allegro Ma Troppo (Color, 1963) 
A Parisian evening, conveyed through imaginative cinematography of the life of Paris between 6PM and 6AM shot at two frames per second utilizing automatic cameras. From strippers to car crashes, Paul Roubaix’s Allegro Ma Troppo evokes the intensity and variety of nocturnal life in the City of Light through speeded-up action, freeze-frame, and virtuoso editing.




Le Western (Color, 1971)

This coin slot's not big enough for the both of us! The tropes of the western genre are so well worn that when re-enacted with geometric shapes grunting in a vaguely French manner, it makes very little difference.  The players here are jetons, the payphone tokens once widely used in Europe, leaving us to wonder how long director Jean-Charles Meunier had to wait for a phone.



One-Eyed Men Are Kings (Color, 1974)
A French silent film, both comedic and poignant, about a man and his dog?  No, not The Artist, but the 1974 Oscar winner One-Eyed Men Are Kings, about a lonely Parisian sad sack whose dog-walking assignment becomes a gateway into social popularity which is as fleeting as it is fortuitous—and featuring one of the least sympathetic canines you’re likely to meet.