Waking up at 9 in the morning after an unapologetically heavy night to go to the cinema may seem like the work of a martyr, but for a film that is as spectacular as An Oversimplification of Her Beauty the justification is self-evident. The film works as a detailed expression of love, in an innovative form of the more traditional letter or poem. As a declaration, it is set firmly in reality, featuring documented footage of the director's life as well as stagings of past moments.
With an unshrinking exploration of mixed media that unfolds in an array of stop motion, photography, animation, illustration and film, we are bestowed with a piece of artistic expression that is unfailing in its ability to capture. I was discussing the day before the possibility of literature to provide unheeding escapism, and in a similar loss of your current reality this film is exceptional. Set to a score by Flying Lotus it is instantly captivating.
Throughout the film the remnants of nostalgia trace the edges of the screen and we become aware that we are bearing witness to a person's life. We are presented with an uninhibited representation of who they are - an accumulation of experience and perception, bound up to display a narrative that is instantly engaging with no sign of letting up. It is through its purity that the film manages to avoid gross displays of sentimentality. It is not excessive or over romanticised where films often are because it is securely grounded in truth. Here, it finally becomes convincing to say that we have an honest portrayal of the complexities of love.
It got me thinking about my own perceptions. Those that, although undeveloped, linger constantly. An inherent fear of indulging fleeting desires, both adhered by past experience and present apprehension. Such dictates an unwillingness to ever truly reveal all of myself, safe in the knowledge that small parts will always remain comforted in the disposition of privacy. Aspiring to give off a cool exterior, supposedly unaffected by daily interactions. Meetings with beings that I meanwhile observe as miraculous in their harmonious workings and enchanting exterior. While I become internally filled with the rays that project themselves from my present company, externally cloud blocks recognition of any sign of excess for hope of maintaining a stable impression. Yet then a distance is simultaneously expelled, spurred on by overbearing doubt.
The film's analytical monologue that persists throughout allows such thoughts to manifest intriguingly, acting concurrently with the images on the screen. There are brief moments of simplified humour that ground you securely back in reality, if only for a fleeting second. What we receive is a slight recognition that we have become lost in the indulgence of analysis, so far so that we have become momentarily separated from the present moment. Escapism ingests us without so much as a breath and I for one am glad to have fallen into the unexplored depths of another's mind.
As the director's inner most thoughts are displayed to me in direct vivaciousness I feel lucky to have been gifted such an honour. To be invited to perceive his vulnerabilities with no attempt to hide behind a translucent wall of fear. There is thus an acknowledgement that we could learn to share more, to be more transparent in our emotions, and to finally take down the shield induced by fear of trust. The risk that we experience may be the most vivid thing that we come to know, for it is in that risk that the possibility of love lies.
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