I often discover, with horror and relief, that I no longer believe in anything. At such times, I return to my body. It's the only thing that reminds me I'm alive.This.
Voyage to Cythera tells the story of Spyros, an ex-communist who, after 32 years in exile, returns to his family, who no longer have any memories of him, except for his wife, Katerina.
This film is a lesson.
A lesson about family.
On belonging.
Spyros does not belong to Greece.
It does not belong to Germany.
It doesn't belong in "your" house.
He belongs to nothing, but his wife belongs to him.
They exist for each other.
A photograph, always consistent, a soundtrack that respects the necessary silence, the uncertainty of what will happen, the uncertainty of what has already happened and is unknown.
The film attempts to show how, over time, he lost his place, his children barely care about him, people reject him, and the government sends him away, leaving him adrif adrift at sea, which, along with the scene of the fire, is one of the most beautiful things my eyes have ever had the right to see.
The fog and rain, and his continued presence, is so incredible, it makes you feel for him, I teared up during some scenes.
Reminds me Werckmeister Harmonies, one of Béla Tarr's masterpieces, about how grand, engaging, and well-recorded it is.
The state of things is immutable beyond all else.
The first entry in the Silence Trilogy.
His poetry is meaningful.
It's a shame it's underrated compared to other works of Theo Angelopoulos.
Lovely, they'd sell the sky if they could.> I want to go with him.Solitude enveloped by nature.
