-By Eric Monder
For movie details, please click here.
With
Ne Change Rien, cinephile favorite Pedro Costa
(
Where Does Your Hidden Smile Lie?) takes a recording
session and turns it into a dream-like journey. Actor/vocalist
Jeanne Balibar (
Va Savoir) is the arresting subject of this unusual
film, which should attract a solid and enthusiastic art-house
crowd.
The Portuguese Costa filmed the French Balibar during the
rehearsals and recording sessions for her album, which includes an
operatic number from Jacques Offenbach’s
Le Perichole.
During the painstaking process of making the recording, we witness
Balibar singing and working closely with the studio musicians and
technicians. Later, we also see Balibar performing in
concert.
Shot by Costa himself in ultra-stylish black-and-white,
Ne
Change Rien seems less like a traditional documentary and more
like an avant-garde film from another era (or another world!).
Indeed, Costa’s digital camera turns the simplest setting, the
recording studio, into a dark, hypnotic place with a seeming reach
into a spatial infinity. Balibar’s voice is equally “dark” in its
way, as we hear her meticulously yet almost effortlessly master
each section of the challenging composition.
The deconstruction of a scant number of musical passages might
remind some of
One Plus One (aka
Sympathy for the
Devil), Jean-Luc Godard’s controversial 1968 documentary of the
recording of a Rolling Stones album. The difference here is that
Costa is more interested in formal beauty, both visually and
aurally, and does not seem to be making a political
statement—Godard’s raison d’etre (at least in 1968).
As dense or heavy as it sounds, however,
Ne Change Rien also
contains a few lighter moments, such as Balibar’s banter with her
musicians, notably guitarist Rodolphe Burger, and an unexpected
segue into Victor Young and Peggy Lee’s classic, “Johnny Guitar.”
But even without this relief from the aesthetic austerity, Costa’s
film is never dull. From the mellifluous vocalizing to the textured
chiaroscuro,
Ne Change Rien should put the most restless
viewers into a healthy trance.
Film Review: Ne Change Rien
Coffee-table art book meets musical documentary in this enormously satisfying endeavor.
Nov 2, 2010
-By Eric Monder
For movie details, please click here.
With
Ne Change Rien, cinephile favorite Pedro Costa (
Where Does Your Hidden Smile Lie?) takes a recording session and turns it into a dream-like journey. Actor/vocalist Jeanne Balibar (
Va Savoir) is the arresting subject of this unusual film, which should attract a solid and enthusiastic art-house crowd.
The Portuguese Costa filmed the French Balibar during the rehearsals and recording sessions for her album, which includes an operatic number from Jacques Offenbach’s
Le Perichole. During the painstaking process of making the recording, we witness Balibar singing and working closely with the studio musicians and technicians. Later, we also see Balibar performing in concert.
Shot by Costa himself in ultra-stylish black-and-white,
Ne Change Rien seems less like a traditional documentary and more like an avant-garde film from another era (or another world!). Indeed, Costa’s digital camera turns the simplest setting, the recording studio, into a dark, hypnotic place with a seeming reach into a spatial infinity. Balibar’s voice is equally “dark” in its way, as we hear her meticulously yet almost effortlessly master each section of the challenging composition.
The deconstruction of a scant number of musical passages might remind some of
One Plus One (aka
Sympathy for the Devil), Jean-Luc Godard’s controversial 1968 documentary of the recording of a Rolling Stones album. The difference here is that Costa is more interested in formal beauty, both visually and aurally, and does not seem to be making a political statement—Godard’s raison d’etre (at least in 1968).
As dense or heavy as it sounds, however,
Ne Change Rien also contains a few lighter moments, such as Balibar’s banter with her musicians, notably guitarist Rodolphe Burger, and an unexpected segue into Victor Young and Peggy Lee’s classic, “Johnny Guitar.” But even without this relief from the aesthetic austerity, Costa’s film is never dull. From the mellifluous vocalizing to the textured chiaroscuro,
Ne Change Rien should put the most restless viewers into a healthy trance.
