How can this not yet have any IMDb comments? The reason must be its relative obscurity in the Anglosphere, in which case it definitely needs to be rediscovered.
What I had heard of Robbe-Grillet's own films suggested they were weak in comparison with his collaboration with Resnais, but 'L'Immortelle', at least, totally overturns that suspicion. The plot - what there is of one - is not too dissimilar to 'L'Année dernière à Marienbad': a man meets a mysterious woman, loses track of her, finds her again. Or does he? Is he being deceived, or pursuing an erotically alluring phantasm? Once again, the narrative is inherently ambiguous, filled with conflicting testimonies, and arguably of secondary importance to the film's treatment of space and locale.
The camera pores over a drowsy Istanbul, following its characters through shuttered windows and on to boats at sea, through cavernous mosques and ruins (which the woman claims are artificial), and crowded bazaars. The formal compositions are as impeccable as those of early Resnais, with actors arranged almost geometrically, like inanimate objects. Some of the shots are reminiscent of Antonioni, such as a slow zoom through the railings of a cemetery, or a long shot which reveals an initially bustling plaza to be deserted. The viewer's eye is tricked (mirroring the perceptual confusion of the central male character), as people appear and disappear, only to reappear within the space of a single pan. Another source of alienation is the use of Turkish speech, which 'our man' cannot understand, and therefore remains untranslated in the subtitles.
As one might expect, there is no resolution to this film: its ending is as elusive as its beginning. Some viewers might tire of the repetitiveness of its structure, as scenes are replayed and memories recollected, but I can practically guarantee that fans of Resnais will find much to enjoy. Other later points of comparison might be David Lynch, or the analogous atmosphere of Oriental anxiety in Cronenberg's 'Naked Lunch', but Robbe-Grillet ought to be regarded as a major cinematic artist in his own right, just as he has long been highly regarded for his literary output (the fact that he also published 'L'Immortelle' as a 'ciné-roman' suggests his belief in the continuum between the two artforms).
Postscript: I have subsequently had the opportunity to watch Robbe-Grillet's latest, 'Gradiva' (2006), and unfortunately it leaves one wondering how the mighty have fallen: a sloppy and ridiculous piece of 70s-style pseudo-erotic fantasy (think Borowczyk, but not as good) which totally lacks the visual precision and intellect of 'L'Immortelle'. I can only surmise that his film-making career went downhill steadily after the 1960s, but we should probably cut an 85-year-old man some slack.
What I had heard of Robbe-Grillet's own films suggested they were weak in comparison with his collaboration with Resnais, but 'L'Immortelle', at least, totally overturns that suspicion. The plot - what there is of one - is not too dissimilar to 'L'Année dernière à Marienbad': a man meets a mysterious woman, loses track of her, finds her again. Or does he? Is he being deceived, or pursuing an erotically alluring phantasm? Once again, the narrative is inherently ambiguous, filled with conflicting testimonies, and arguably of secondary importance to the film's treatment of space and locale.
The camera pores over a drowsy Istanbul, following its characters through shuttered windows and on to boats at sea, through cavernous mosques and ruins (which the woman claims are artificial), and crowded bazaars. The formal compositions are as impeccable as those of early Resnais, with actors arranged almost geometrically, like inanimate objects. Some of the shots are reminiscent of Antonioni, such as a slow zoom through the railings of a cemetery, or a long shot which reveals an initially bustling plaza to be deserted. The viewer's eye is tricked (mirroring the perceptual confusion of the central male character), as people appear and disappear, only to reappear within the space of a single pan. Another source of alienation is the use of Turkish speech, which 'our man' cannot understand, and therefore remains untranslated in the subtitles.
As one might expect, there is no resolution to this film: its ending is as elusive as its beginning. Some viewers might tire of the repetitiveness of its structure, as scenes are replayed and memories recollected, but I can practically guarantee that fans of Resnais will find much to enjoy. Other later points of comparison might be David Lynch, or the analogous atmosphere of Oriental anxiety in Cronenberg's 'Naked Lunch', but Robbe-Grillet ought to be regarded as a major cinematic artist in his own right, just as he has long been highly regarded for his literary output (the fact that he also published 'L'Immortelle' as a 'ciné-roman' suggests his belief in the continuum between the two artforms).
Postscript: I have subsequently had the opportunity to watch Robbe-Grillet's latest, 'Gradiva' (2006), and unfortunately it leaves one wondering how the mighty have fallen: a sloppy and ridiculous piece of 70s-style pseudo-erotic fantasy (think Borowczyk, but not as good) which totally lacks the visual precision and intellect of 'L'Immortelle'. I can only surmise that his film-making career went downhill steadily after the 1960s, but we should probably cut an 85-year-old man some slack.