Trilogia: To livadi pou dakryzei (2004) Reviews

• Greek tragedy

  jotix1002005-09-29

  Theo Angelopolous, the Greek director, undertakes the colossal task of putting in a film some thirty years of history in his country. The director has a poetical way to present his story, which was written in collaboration with some of the best minds of the business, namely, Tonino Guerra, Giorgio Silvani and Petros Markaris, one of our own favorite Greek writers. The result is a complex canvas in which Mr. Angelopolous paints for us, the viewer, in dark colors that gives us an idea of what the country went through during that period. In a way, the director seems to be taking an outside position in recounting the tragedy his country lived by photographing in long shots almost every frame of the film. Of course, this being his style, it suits the poetical way in which he conceives the basic idea. There are lots of moments in the film that take the viewer's breath away by the beauty of the composition of a particular scene. It's clear the director uses a lot of symbolism in trying to get his point across. The opening scene with the returning people from the Odessa massacre being one of the most effective things in the film. The rowing boats carrying people affected by the flood is another. The many white sheets waving in the wind, are just the highlights of the story, the way Mr. Angelopolous conceives it. The actors act as an ensemble. Alexandra Aidini, who plays Eleni, the woman at the center of the tragedy, makes quite an impression. The excellent fading cinematography by Andreas Sinanos gives a rich texture to the film, as well as the music score by Eleni Karaindrou, that greatly enhances the mood of it. While this film is definitely for a general public, it shows great moments of brilliance created by Theo Angelopolous working at his best.

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• Angelopoulos does it again

  tintin-232005-07-14

  Angelopoulos' films are definitely an acquired taste. His style eschews mainstream conventions, resulting in his films being perceived as nearly the antithesis of Hollywood's films, with which most people are familiar. So familiar, that they cannot imagine a different cinematographic approach to cinema. To Hollywood's rapid cuts and furious pacing Angelopoulos opposes through long takes, leisurely pacing, and composed tableaux. He uses long shots, which de-emphasizes individual performances, unlike Hollywood's close-ups and star system. Hollywood tries to emotionally seduce its audience, while Angelopoulos looks for means to occasionally distance his viewers from their emotional responses. Angelopoulos forces his audience to participate in his films. In the case of the acting, he presents his characters "from the outside," his intent being to compel his audience to study and explore their identities. "The Weeping Meadow" is the first film of "The Trilogy," Angelopoulos' latest and most ambitious project. The story proceeds in a straight-forward, linear fashion, unusual for Angelopoulos' treatment of time, which is often somewhat convoluted, and covers from 1919 until the end of the Greek Civil War, in 1949. The central character of a film, Eleni, is interpreted by Alexandra Aidini, in her screen appearance debut. Her acting shows unusual maturity for an unseasoned actress. Alexis' role is entrusted also to a first-time actor, Nikos Poursanidis, whose performance is convincing. Giorgos Armenis, as Nikos, is most touching in his portraying of a stoic character, full of humanity and compassion. Atypical for Angelopoulos, there are some expository dialogues in the earliest scenes, but they appear a little gauche. However, in keeping with his unique style, dialogues are sparse, without any monologues or exchanges during which his characters exteriorize their inner conflicts, doubts, or feelings. The action, as in the classic Greek theater, takes place offstage and is described not by the chorus, but by some of the different characters functioning, in turn, as the chorus. Angelopoulos' productions are always filmed on location in remote areas, using the available decor, with minimal construction. But this film required the massive constructions of a whole city neighborhood of some two hundred, 1920-style stone houses, in the Thessaloniki's harbor section, which will eventually be burnt down, and of a whole village at the edge of Lake Kerkini, some distance north of the city, which will be submerged for the purpose of the plot when the lake rises up naturally about two meters. Andreas Sinanos, Giorgos Arvanitis' assistant from 1975 until 1983, was the cinematographer. The whole film is shot under covered skies, threatening or rainy weather, and misty Greek landscapes in dark colors of grays, blues, and greens. Red appears briefly on three occasions. The colors, the characters and their costumes, the usual decors of the familial tales are all represented in tableaux and plans-sequences of an Angelopoulos who has totally reverted to the aesthetics of his first films. Angelopoulos' films contain many image references and lines of dialogues from his previous films, and this film is no exception, which makes it a delight for Angelopoulos' aficionados. The story is based on a short story by Italian screenwriter, old friend and close collaborator, Tonino Guerra, with the participation of Petros Markaris, and Giorgio Silvagni. The music is by Angelopoulos' long time collaborator, Eleni Karaindrou. Her music is not a background accompaniment, but a dramatic element, a living component of the story, an actor adding some words that had not been spoken. In "The Trilogy," Angelopoulos plans to recall his country's history, from the early years of the last century to the present, as seen through the eyes of a woman, Eleni, as she lives her life. Her story has, as principal theme, the exile of the Greek people, and the displacement of the people in general, at the whim of History. Angelopoulos tackles his themes as he would in a Greek tragedy, and as in all Greek tragedies, a single primordial mistake leads to an unstoppable chain of events, one that crushes inexorably the main character. In the present film, History is relegated to the background over which Eleni's story is told. Eleni, whose very name evokes Greece, becomes a metaphor for the Greek nation and its people. She is the Greek mythological mother who laments the sacrifices of her fathers, brothers, and sons. But she is also the modern heroine, as women everywhere throughout the ages, who bend and stagger under the weight of adversity. Furthermore, Angelopoulos' treatment of History in "The Weeping Meadow" is certainly different from that in "The Travelling Players." In the latter film, Angelopoulos' views contradict the "official" Greek history and constitute a fundamental revision of history in which the Left, in general, and the Communist Party of Greece in particular, are given their proper places, and are not depicted as the moral threat to Greek democracy. In "The Weeping Meadow," History is simply there, absolute, and not open to interpretations. Since we became familiar with the cinema of Angelopoulos, we know his fascination with the Greek myths, that they are eternal, and that History repeats itself. In this particular film, there are references to the Theban cycle of the Lavdakides family -- "Oedipus," "The Seven against Thebes," and "Antigone." There is also a reference to Homer's Penelope in the departure scene to America, where Alexis unwinds Eleni's unfinished knitted sweater. Or is it Ariadne's thread, which allowed Theseus's exit from the labyrinth? But in the present film, the thread broke and Alexis-Theseus never came back. All these allusions to Sophocles, Aeschylus, and Homer are only here because they make the poet Angelopoulos dream. Angelopoulos' work is an uncompromising devotion to cinema as poetry. His films are elegant, powerful, and eloquent. They are also long and demanding on the part of the spectator, but always well worth the effort. Angelopoulos' films have something of melancholic, but they are not pessimistic. The melancholy that one feels is the dignity of the heart confronted with the defeat of a vision.

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• amazing, interactive, fulfilling

  kourdos2005-02-10

  I had watched years ago some older films of Aggelopoulos and i was expecting a slow movie, with minimal dialogues, many symbolisms, weak plot and superb photography. I got exactly what i expected and something more: i left the theatre with an extreme satisfaction. The film: Greece roughly between 1920 and 1950 (but it is so current and contemporary because it deals with global, recurring themes). The life of the nation through events: national catastrophes, refugees, social and political unrest, world and civil wars. The life of the person through emotions: love, lust, pride, hope, love, desperation, ambition, love, death. And many symbolisms and extremely powerful and beautiful scenes with references from ancient myths to current international affairs. And rain, lots of rain :-) The plot and the development of the characters may appear weak. We are used to ready meals from the business of cinema, which overwhelm us with fast dialogues, "strong" performances and "exciting" situations. And that's fine. But cinema and people need also the approach of Aggelopoulos, we need some space and time, to reflect and realise our existence. "To Livadi pou dakryzei" gives more freedom and time to the viewer to participate with his feelings and memories and thoughts. That's exactly interactive art. These are some of my interpretations of some scenes: village flooding (Climate Change and the forces of Nature), immigration/separation (departure of my girlfriend), mother crying over her soldier sons dead bodies (this is a real war scene, not the computer games style). You will identify with other scenes (everyone has an opinion, right ?) and you will feel alive. I am grateful to Aggelopoulos for giving me the chance to look inside myself, remember, sigh, think.

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• A Grecian Threnody

  gradyharp2007-02-06

  THE WEEPING MEADOW ('Trilogia I: To Livadi pou dakryzei') is writer/director Theodoros Angelopoulos (with influences from Tonino Guerra plus assistance from Petros Markaris and Giorgio Silvagni) creating a personal vision of the 20th century. The incredibly gifted Greek poet of a filmmaker mirrored the life and death of his own mother whose time on earth spanned a century and elected to capture the 100 years of sadness in a trilogy of films: The Weeping Meadow is Part I and details the years 1919 through 1949. It is a masterwork. The film opens with what will be the trademark look of the movie - vistas of lonely people in a nearly monochromatic color space that uses water, both from rain and the collected results of rain. A group of refugees from Odessa have landed by a river in Thessaloniki where they must attempt to reconstruct their lives. Among them is a family - a wife and husband with their young son and a three-year-old orphan Eleni they have protected. The entire movie seems to be in slow motion, but that is just the studied, unhurried rhythm of Angelopoulos' direction. As time passes we find that Eleni at a very early age has just given birth to twin boys while she has been sent away for the family's appearances: the father is the young son of the family. The story progresses through the World Wars, the civil wars, the influence of Hitler and Mussolini, the natural disasters of floods and disease, the social disparities of class, the rise of unions, the fall of democracy - all mirrored in the family that is trying to make the chaos of living in Greece resemble some sort of order. The young man is a musician and once he and Eleni have reunited with their twin boys, he decides he will go to America, the land of Promise for poverty stricken refugees, to work and make enough money to bring Eleni and the twins to America. But in his absence the progressive civil unrest and poverty the three endure in his absence results in the ultimate dissolution of the family. The story is less important than the moods evoked. The cinematography by Andreas Sinanos is a long gallery of miraculously composed, beautiful images: the cortège on the river, the flapping white sheets behind which we discover musicians, the constant vistas of the ocean and the river, the village and the battlegrounds burn themselves onto our visual fields and into memory. The gorgeous music that accompanies this symphonic work is by Eleni Karaindrou, mixing folksongs with wondrous symphonic moments. The cast is superb: they manage to create very specific people despite the fact that we rarely see them up close. But in the end this visual treasure is the extraordinary work of Theodoros Angelopoulos. If this is Part I of a Trilogy (at almost three hours running time), we can only imagine the power that will follow in the Parts II and III. Experiencing THE WEEPING MEADOW takes patience and a long uninterrupted period of time; the rewards are immeasurably fine. In Greek with English subtitles. Grady Harp

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• Angelopoulos can do no wrong

  zetes2007-01-08

  I think anyone familiar with Angelopoulos knows what to expect with his films: long, drawn out, meticulously planned shots that slowly scan environments, with the image composed of not only the foreground but hundreds of yards into the background. I guess some are not impressed with the director's style, but that really astounds me. I definitely see the man as a master of his medium, and The Weeping Meadow is as good as any of his other films – every one I've seen so far is a masterpiece or close to it. This film has a lot in common with the director's first big success, The Traveling Players. It follows a little girl, Eleni, from 1919 to the time of the Greek Civil War, at the end of WWII. And, as the title implies, it's a great tragedy. There is a lot of weeping. It may be long and slow, but it's always gripping. Angelopoulos' imagery is second to none in modern cinema. There are just so many jaw-dropping sequences. My favorite was the one where the camera explored its way through a maze of bed sheets drying on clotheslines, discovering various musicians hidden within. It's not a complaint, per se, but if you're going to watch the film beware of its chronological ellipses. The film can skip ahead years in just a second, when the pace usually makes each second feel like years (in a good way!). I hope New Yorker video, or some other company, digs up the Angelopoulos films that have been unavailable so far, and puts The Traveling Players on DVD, as well.

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