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Mother And Son

1997, Movie, NR, 73 mins

MOTHER AND SON | MAT' I SYN
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Pure cinema, and then some. Russian director Alexander Sokurov's latest film pares the medium down to its most basic elements to construct a powerful work of sad, transcendent beauty. The narrative itself is extremely simple: In a lonely country house, a dutiful son cares for his terminally ill mother during the final hours of her life. Scenes unfold in a series of long, nearly silent takes. The mother first wakes. The son carries her outside and reads her postcards from her past. They go for a walk, the son carrying his mother in his arms. They stop and rest. Returning to the house, the son leaves his mother and goes for a walk. When he returns, she is dead. There's little sound, minimal dialogue, few edits and almost no camera movement. And yet within this spare, abstract framework, Sokurov manages to express volumes about love, grief, loyalty and the sometimes crushing burden of responsibility. Sokurov's films are often compared to those of his mentor, Andrei Tarkovsky, and there are certain similarities: Both favor long takes in which time, rather than action, becomes the structuring element, and both appreciate the aesthetic properties of stillness. But here Sokurov also uses film much like Ingmar Bergman once did -- as a vehicle for intense spiritual investigation -- and his masterful use of panoramic long-shots strongly recalls Greek director Theo Angelopoulos. Ultimately, formidable antecedents aside, this is a highly original work that looks like nothing else. Sokurov uses a variety of devices -- including mirrors and painted glass filters -- to distort the image, diffuse light and soften focus, lending this entrancing film the unreal look of a dark, moody watercolor. Rarely has the potential of film felt so fully realized, while so closely approximating the qualities of painting. leave a comment --Ken Fox
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