In Vanda's Room

What's interesting about In Vanda's Room is seeing the authentic disguised as fiction, and fiction blended with reality. Costa prepares all the scenes, films them; Vanda is Vanda, not a character born from Pedro Costa's imagination. That's why everything she says has a special meaning, because in addition to creating realities, she refers to existing realities.

Pedro Costa draws inspiration from Godard and his documentary style, from Ozu—it was necessary to capture certain everyday details in film—from Akerman and her portrayal of women's routines, and above all from Kiarostami and his destruction and reconstruction of cinema and reality. Sometimes cinema tends to become closed off, within its genres, narratives, and the entertainment industry. In a way, it brings the purity of Dogma 95, because In Vanda's Room has no filter, but it's important to remember that despite being acted, it's all real. These aren't characters; they're people, people that cinema denies, embellishes, and romanticizes—an encounter that confronts us.

Some might consider this film an aberration. A director enters the room of a drug addict, making her act, along with those close to her? That's only part of it. Even so, it's a necessary exercise. She, the drugs, the disappearance from life exist, but it's not a pure documentary. It's pure immersion in reality. An avoided reality. Those with far more economic power cover their eyes as if they could hide the sun with a finger, and those who live such realities escape them thanks to drugs. In Vanda's Room is jarring because it's too real, even unethical.

In part, who knows if reality is even more painful than what we see? There is no plot here, and the action frequently jumps around in time, but it's unclear what has happened in the meantime. Although this isn't important, in Costa's mind, the main function of cinema is to make the viewer feel that something is completely out of place.

What's interesting about In Vanda's Room is seeing the authentic disguised as fiction, and fiction blended with reality. Costa prepares all the scenes, films them; Vanda is Vanda, not a character born from Pedro Costa's imagination. That's why everything she says has a special meaning, because in addition to creating realities, she refers to existing realities.

Pedro Costa draws inspiration from Godard and his documentary style, from Ozu—it was necessary to capture certain everyday details in film—from Akerman and her portrayal of women's routines, and above all from Kiarostami and his destruction and reconstruction of cinema and reality. Sometimes cinema tends to become closed off, within its genres, narratives, and the entertainment industry. In a way, it brings the purity of Dogma 95, because In Vanda's Room has no filter, but it's important to remember that despite being acted, it's all real. These aren't characters; they're people, people that cinema denies, embellishes, and romanticizes—an encounter that confronts us.

Some might consider this film an aberration. A director enters the room of a drug addict, making her act, along with those close to her? That's only part of it. Even so, it's a necessary exercise. She, the drugs, the disappearance from life exist, but it's not a pure documentary. It's pure immersion in reality. An avoided reality. Those with far more economic power cover their eyes as if they could hide the sun with a finger, and those who live such realities escape them thanks to drugs. In Vanda's Room is jarring because it's too real, even unethical.

In part, who knows if reality is even more painful than what we see? There is no plot here, and the action frequently jumps around in time, but it's unclear what has happened in the meantime. Although this isn't important, in Costa's mind, the main function of cinema is to make the viewer feel that something is completely out of place.

Il sent la saleté et t’étouffe avec, nous forçant à nous mettre à leur place qui est inhumaine, interminable et chiante. 
Il s’y passe tout et rien à la fois, preuve que leur vie est jugée insignifiante aux yeux de la société.
Costa ne filme pas de loin, il nous plonge dans leur quotidien sans filtre.

Il sent la saleté et t’étouffe avec, nous forçant à nous mettre à leur place qui est inhumaine, interminable et chiante. 
Il s’y passe tout et rien à la fois, preuve que leur vie est jugée insignifiante aux yeux de la société.
Costa ne filme pas de loin, il nous plonge dans leur quotidien sans filtre.

"And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." We've othered drug addicts and the homeless into a proverbial civilized abyss but we have no idea what to do with the corralled others we've isolated.

Modern humans, like other generational entities, have successfully othered supremely marginal societies to the point of their stripped humanity. The attitudes toward the modern domestic US homeless clarifies how little we've moved with respect to our tolerance of the eternal nonconformist. This movie simply puts us in the same room as these folks for 3 hours. That alone, but here coupled with formal ingenuity forces us to accept people like Vanda as humans. Flippants dismiss long takes and slow cinema out of its "ease," but this movie kinda makes a farce of that criticism as it underlies the importance of uninterruption and humanistic authenticity. Like the greatest cinema, spotlighting the marginalized is a balancing act of respect and transparency. Costa gets it right. The intimacy with this neighbourhood forces our empathy in an irrefutable way.

"And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." We've othered drug addicts and the homeless into a proverbial civilized abyss but we have no idea what to do with the corralled others we've isolated.

Modern humans, like other generational entities, have successfully othered supremely marginal societies to the point of their stripped humanity. The attitudes toward the modern domestic US homeless clarifies how little we've moved with respect to our tolerance of the eternal nonconformist. This movie simply puts us in the same room as these folks for 3 hours. That alone, but here coupled with formal ingenuity forces us to accept people like Vanda as humans. Flippants dismiss long takes and slow cinema out of its "ease," but this movie kinda makes a farce of that criticism as it underlies the importance of uninterruption and humanistic authenticity. Like the greatest cinema, spotlighting the marginalized is a balancing act of respect and transparency. Costa gets it right. The intimacy with this neighbourhood forces our empathy in an irrefutable way.

really struggled with this one. every now and then, there was some really profound things being said in the dialogue and some really nice shots. but i just don’t think it’s my type of movie, overall

really struggled with this one. every now and then, there was some really profound things being said in the dialogue and some really nice shots. but i just don’t think it’s my type of movie, overall

sometimes when the tagline is "unflinching" it really means unedited.

I know i'm supposed to feel something- and maybe that's my fault. That I feel nothing. Nietzsche wrote that "In the consciousness of the truth he has perceived, man now sees everywhere only the awfulness or the absurdity of existence and loathing seizes him," but I don't even feel ennui. That is just how their existence is, in a building that is slowly falling apart in symbiosis with it's inhabitants.

sometimes when the tagline is "unflinching" it really means unedited.

I know i'm supposed to feel something- and maybe that's my fault. That I feel nothing. Nietzsche wrote that "In the consciousness of the truth he has perceived, man now sees everywhere only the awfulness or the absurdity of existence and loathing seizes him," but I don't even feel ennui. That is just how their existence is, in a building that is slowly falling apart in symbiosis with it's inhabitants.