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How hide from oneself the fact that it all ends up on a rectangle of white fabric hung on a wall?
How hide from oneself the fact that it all ends up on a rectangle of white fabric hung on a wall?
My movie is born first in my head, dies in paper; is resuscitated by the living persons and real objects I use, which are killed in film but, placed in a certain order and projected on to a screen, come to life again, like flowers in water.
This is more philosophical than it is technical. Highly recommend if you‘re a fan of Bresson.
First book of 2018. A bit pretentious, but one of those required texts for understanding film history and Bresson. Still, a nice way to start my reading for 2018.