Cast: Bruno Ganz, Isabelle Renauld, Achileas Skevis, Despina Bebedeli
Director: Theo Angelopoulos
Producers: Theo Angelopoulos, Eric Heumann, Amedeo Pagani, Giorgio Silvagni
Screenplay: Theo Angelopoulos, Tonino Guerra, Petros Markaris, Giorgio Silvagni
Cinematography: Yorgos Arvanitis, Andreas Sinanos
Music: Eleni Karaindrou
U.S. Distributor: Artistic Licence Films
In Greek with subtitles
Eternity and a Day is the second recent film I have seen to present an absorbing meditation about the importance of memories. And, like in Hirokazo Kore-eda's After Life, it places the protagonist in the gray twilight between the realms of the living and the dead. However, while the characters in After Life had already passed beyond their earthly existence, Eternity and a Day's Alexander (played by Bruno Ganz) hasn't quite reached that point. The terminally ill writer and poet is still alive - if only barely. He is in the final stages of a disease that is about to force him into a hospital from which he will never emerge. There are no more tomorrows - only a past colored with regret.
During his lifetime, Alexander was a workaholic whose obsession with his writing led him to neglect his wife, Anna (Isabelle Renauld), and his only daughter. Now, Anna is dead and Alexander is about to join her. As he spends his final hours outside of the hospital wandering around a seaside town, Alexander is overwhelmed with recollections of the one perfect day in his life. The memory may not be of things as they truly were, but instead of events as he wishes they could have been.
All of the present day action of Eternity and a Day takes place during a twenty-four hour period. The flashbacks, which really aren't "flashbacks" in the traditional sense since the aging Alexander replaces his younger self in them, are likewise constrained to a limited period of time. The most poignant and effective portions of the film are those in which Alexander removes his mind from the present and deposits it into that perfect memory. It is his only means of escape from the uncertainty of death and his lone solace from a lifetime of remorse. The man wandering the rainy streets of Greece near the end of his life is a sad, lonely figure. That same man, laughing and dancing with his wife on the beach, is a picture of vitality and joy.
There is another aspect to the story. During the modern-day sequences, Alexander befriends a young boy (Achileas Skevis) who he saves from being nabbed by the police. The eight-year old, an Albanian refugee, is lost in a strange country, and Alexander provides companionship and wisdom for him during their short time together. He, in turn, offers Alexander something that the writer desperately craves during his last hours - a form of human contact and comfort.
Eternity and a Day has a languid tone that refuses to be hurried. Director Theo Angelopoulos (the filmmaker responsible for the turgid Ulysses' Gaze) moves things forward slowly, allowing his camera to rest for long periods of time on inanimate objects or seemingly irrelevant individuals. Nearly every shot is longer than the longest shots in most mainstream American films. Eternity and a Day features numerous unbroken takes that are three or four minutes in length, and it's unusual for any one shot to last less than a minute. During dialogue, Angelopoulos doesn't cut back and forth between the speaking participants. Instead, he keeps them both in frame and allows the conversation to flow. The camera is always moving around the characters, changing angles and perspectives. This approach, which even the most inexperienced movie-goer will notice, lends to Eternity and a Day the aura of cinematic poetry. It's a motion picture of images and feeling more than of plot and character.
The film's weakness results from the scenes between Alexander and the boy, which are limited in their effectiveness. The depth of the bond between them feels contrived, and, while their interaction reveals a great deal about what's going on inside of Alexander's mind, I never believed his sudden burst of paternal protectiveness. The truest moment in their brief relationship transpires when Alexander, recognizing how short his time is, pleads with the boy to remain with him for two more hours.
The centerpiece of the film is veteran German actor Bruno Ganz (Wings of Desire), who presents a somber, brooding presence. Ganz's lines are dubbed into Greek, but there is so little dialogue that it's hardly noticeable. Ganz does most of his acting with his face and body language. He slumps, slouches, and trudges along during the '90s scenes, then straightens up and moves with a lighter, more carefree step during the memory/fantasy sequences. Meanwhile, Isabelle Renauld is delightful as Anna, who is forever locked in Alexander's mind as a young woman.
Eternity and a Day won top honors at 1998's Cannes Film Festival. Despite that, because it has such limited appeal, the film almost missed even a limited U.S. theatrical run. Those whose primary cinematic fare is of the mainstream variety will likely find this picture to be unbearably slow and self-indulgent. Only movie-goers with a deep appreciation of art films and an attention span to match will be rewarded by Angelopoulos' effort. This is not a masterpiece, but it contains moments of rare beauty and its contemplation of life, death, regret, and memory has a subtle power.
© 1999 James Berardinelli