Sans Soleil or Sunless (1983)

“The first image he spoke to me about was the one of the three chil­dren on a road in Ice­land in 1965.
He said that for him it was the image of hap­pi­ness and also that he had tried seve­ral times to link it to other ima­ges, but it never wor­ked.
He wrote me:
one day I’ll have to put it all alone at the begin­ning of a film with a long stretch of black; If they have not seen the hap­pi­ness in the image, at least they will see the black.”

“I think of a world where each memory can create its own legend.”

I really can­not think how to put into words my sen­ti­ments towards this part docu­men­tary, part fic­tion, see­mingly science fic­tion mosaic of stun­ning and obs­cure foo­tage that is accom­pa­nied by an easy-to-listen to narra­tion ques­tio­ning time, memory and space and the ins­tantly recog­ni­za­ble Isao Tomita accom­pa­ni­ment. Once more my inte­llect and inte­rest has been sti­mu­la­ted by dia­lo­gue and stri­king, impac­ting visual ima­gery that I shall fore­ver carry with me. The sin­gle fra­med direct stare of the girl on the street, the Ice­lan­dic conc­lu­sion, the Zone, the man from 4001 where total recall is memory anesthe­si­sed and the bob­bing heads of the slee­ping Japa­nese com­mu­ters that are para­lle­led with the Asian con­fron­ta­tion of Horror in film.

Sans Soleil is a work of lin­ge­ring and subtle beauty that per­co­la­tes through my bloods­tream, infor­ming the hours and days, chan­ging the things and ways I see… — Jonathan Rimorin.

For dis­cus­sions and a script write up head here.