foreword
In 2019, Roy Anderson's new film "About Endless" was screened at the Venice Film Festival and won the Silver Lion Award for Best Director. Five years ago, he won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival for his work "The Quiet Birds", making him one of Sweden's most important filmmakers. Roy Anderson attended the Swedish Film Academy in his early years, and was threatened with dropping out by film master Ingmar Bergman, where Bergman was a supervisor at the time, for his radical political stance. What's interesting is that Roy Anderson is also not very interested in Bergman. He once said in an interview that Bergman only has three good movies, namely "Still in the Mirror", "Silence" and "Masquerade". In fact, just look at one of Roy Anderson's works to know how different he is from Bergman: the former is static, trivial, without drama, always giving people a sense of incomprehension, and the latter seems to be the exact opposite.
In today's push, we bring readers a review of "About Endless", a review and interview of Roy Anderson's "Life Trilogy", and hope that everyone can understand the author more comprehensively and thoroughly. The obscurity in his films captures the joys and sorrows common to all mankind.
Venice Film Festival Review: About Endless
Author Guy Lodge
translator waist
edit bun
1 hour and 18 minutes. Whether by accident or intentional, Swedish director Roy. Anderson has named his sixth feature film "About Endless," a comic that is unique to him. Because the film is only 78 minutes long, in this endlessly recurring tragicomedy, the credits are already rolling before you are almost completely immersed in the film's absurd cosmology of human existence. Anderson argues that our social symptoms are simple, funny, predestined (and perhaps God-given) never-ending repetitions. This seemingly grand proposition was finally ended by the 76-year-old veteran with a short film. (Maybe every year he has a minute to observe the world around him) In short, human nature is complex but easy to distill.
Yet you wonder if the short length of "About Endless" allowed Anderson to change his form. Rest assured, since he won the Venice Golden Lion in 2014 with "Han Branch Sparrow", you can find most of the unusual techniques used by this producer. It's made up of a series of short life episodes that are mostly unconnected but have a few sad threads running through them. They examine the weary routine and the sad history with the same distant and smiling gaze. Or combine the two. As always, they are framed delicately, framed with an almost compulsive precision and minimalism. This art direction and color coding better captures the complexities of the foreground's human nature. If we have ever encountered such a situation. If we have encountered such a scene, then "About Endless" handles this proposition in a relatively gentle way, not an indictment.
The next scene, does echo the first scene, and breaks it. In a low-angle shot, an older couple, who do not appear to be very close, stare mournfully at the beige skyline. "It's already September," she said glumly. Summer is over, and for Anderson, the romance seems to be over. Events go from here to become depressive. A middle-aged Catholic priest appears in multiple clips. He struggled with his lost sense of faith, and the first time he went to seek advice, not from God, but from a condescending psychiatrist. While the man had a severe existential crisis, the psychiatrist was more concerned with getting the car home. This everyday tension between the sublime and the mundane is not downright absurd, but continuous and endless. And again and again, with a sarcastic tone, Anderson invites the audience to think about the bizarre and unspeakable blind spots that disrupt so-called normal life.
Elsewhere, we immerse ourselves in the past, examining the characters of Anderson's films with the same tired eyes. In a sketch, Adolf. Hitler walked into the overcrowded, dusty bunker in the last days of his life. In the end, only his colleagues sluggishly and futilely shouted to him "Victory!", while on the other side was the defeated German army, everyone was expressionless, and obediently lined up in a neat formation to go to the prisoner of war camp. Important pieces of history are diminished and demythologized, everyone is an obscure loser of a genre in About Endless, and the Nazis don't deserve more grandiose treatment. At the same time, we see a modern version of Christ, dragging his cross slowly through an alley in a balanced and striking shot. He was whipped by his abuser, and bystanders watched in bewilderment. This is one of the few relatively continuous segments of the many episodes, and this scene, although it doesn't have a nightmarish aftertaste, is revealed to be a dream. In Anderson's imagination, even the victims could not escape the grayness of everyday life. Anderson can be largely classified as a Nordic pessimist, although this may be overlooked, he also wrote many cheerful poems.
To be sure, although after a cheerful opening, we can still find a little joy and intimacy in the many conflicts and musings. Here's a nice, unpretentious clip of a group of teenage girls dancing in front of a quiet café at home. Later, a father stooped down to tie his young daughter's shoelaces in the pouring rain, and they strolled hand in hand to a party. Life in "About the Endless" is never real enough, and it's all done with Anderson's signature studio approach. Like his last film, a hyper-digital aesthetic done by DP Gergely Pálos with his flawless product designs. Much of the movie seems to take place in the quietest playroom you'll ever see. He's Anderson's best ally: rebuilding everyday life in brilliant ways, allowing us to return to the world smarter and feel its beauty.
Roy Anderson's "Life Trilogy" Review and Director Interview
By: Megan Ratner
Source: Film Quarterly University of California Press
Translator: waist
review
Roy Anderson's "Life Trilogy":
"Singing from the Second Floor", "You Are Still Alive", "Quiet in the Cold Branches"
Renowned Swedish author and director Roy Anderson dedicates his films to examining human behavior and its consequences. His "Life Trilogy" begins in 2000 and examines what it means to live as a human being. What does human existence mean? Each film in the "Life Trilogy" asks questions about consciousness, responsibility, and the importance of history in contemporary life through short but complete segments. Even the most far-fetched imagery in Anderson's films, often dealing with the legacy of fascism, Nazism and ethnic cleansing shared by the West, is disturbingly familiar. Shooting for fifteen years, each work is shot in a largely consistent style, striving to close the paradoxical gap between dream and reality. Despite the vast amount of information in his video material, his approach is light, occasionally comical and slightly pitiful sarcasm. Anderson is a strong satire of society's rules, expectations, and institutions, and he retains a benevolence for failure and the loss of ideals.
With a photo of a magnolia tree in his distribution office, Roy Anderson in his usual faded jeans and a casual plaid shirt, sturdy, blunt yet tender, was curious about this interviewer. Born into a working-class family in Gothenburg, Sweden's second-largest city, in 1943, he was keenly aware of the hierarchy of the welfare state and apparently delighted to live in a more egalitarian era. For a while, this blue-collar sense of skepticism about anything abstraction got in the way of his work. Fortunately, he finally overcame this prejudice through continuous rational exploration and a skilled work attitude.
Beginning with "Songs from the Second Floor" (2000), Anderson created a unique approach to studio photography, shooting in carefully crafted simple scenes that enhance the film's depth of field. Discrete and independent, each segment is a wide-angle shot from a fixed camera. Usually indoors, mostly in a suitable setting, the full body of the character is shown in a panorama. No close-ups. The camera is often in an unsettling position, undermining the viewer's sense of superiority over the character's character. Not precisely embarrassing, but equally not comforting. Varied on a common theme, each film is unique. "Songs from the Second Floor" and "You Are Alive" (2007) were both screened at Cannes, and "Songs from the Second Floor" won the Cannes Special Jury Prize. "Silence of the Birds" (2014) won the Venice Golden Lion Award. Taken together, these three films define what Anderson calls "the mundane cinema," whose goal is to "give tiny humans a voice..." He's a symbol of all of us. "Watching his films is akin to mind surfing.
According to the description, Anderson's style sounds eccentric and slightly mischievous, but it is neither. The sequence before the title of "Singing from the Second Floor" may offer some clues to interpreting his films. As a vertical white line cuts through the thumbnail stills taken from all of Anderson's films to date, the audio goes in and out like a twentieth-century car radio search. While it's obviously part of the Anderson 24 Film Studio logo, it's a useful mockup for a style that doesn't fall into any of the regular categories. His films are neither conventional narratives nor conventional cinematic experiments. Although, in terms of film and cinematic influence, he was influenced by Federico Fellini and Luis Buñuel, he was at least inspired by Nonne Daumier, Edward Hopper and Samuel Bunuel. More from Beckett et al. Anderson moved on excitedly, and his forty-plus film clips were progressive rather than sequential.
He slowly found the way. Italian Neorealism and Czech New Wave influenced his early works, especially his first work, Swedish Love Story (1970). Famous for this teenage romance, Anderson's career stalled when all critics and audiences shied away from "The Journey" (1975), but then is a more empirical project. It took him 25 years to discover the possibilities of the abbreviated format, perfecting the technique of shooting and precise timing, and the project he dreaded became light. Even Ingmar Bergman, his film school mentor, was an avid fan of the ad, despite opposing Anderson's support for social welfare. His award-winning short films "The Plague" (1987) and "The Glorious World" (1991) and more than 400 commercials helped him establish "Studio 24", and Anderson almost finished his work in his low-key Stockholm office. All shooting.
Anderson dedicated "Songs from the Second Floor" to the modernist Peruvian poet Cesar Vallejo, whose poem "Stumbling Between Two Stars" provided the inscription for the film: "The seated is lovely. The film focuses loosely on the character Culler (Lass Nord), who "Song" follows as he wanders an unknown city and goes mad after torching his furniture store. Vallejo's verses appear in the dialogue, most prominently in the scene in which Calle and his son (Stefan Larsson) visit another son, Thomas (Peter Roth) . Caller complained that Thomas was imprisoned in a mental institution because he "written poetry until he went mad." In the continued silence, Thomas sat still to receive his brother's blessing with Vallejo's verse, while his father wept and complained about what had happened to his son.
As Ursula Lindqvist points out, "The translation in Vallejo's poem, when it loses its literary character and becomes cinematic, is brought to life in this film." Anderson claims, "The most pressing social and existential issues of our time are centered on the most trivial, banal and often absurd moments of everyday life (again echoing Vallejo's artistic insight into the importance of everyday life." The emphasis, from even the most banal moments of life, reverberates throughout the trilogy of life. People, whether living in the spotlight or on the fringes, have similar lived experiences.
"The Quietness of the Birds in the Cold Branch" begins and ends with a posture of waiting. At first an impatient wife leaned in the corridor of the Natural History Museum and almost walked into the next exhibition hall, while her husband carefully looked at the objects in each glass display case, one of which was a sparrow standing quietly in a on the branch. The film ends with an absurd and mysterious conversation between passengers waiting at the station. Each movie scene is so insignificant compared to the others, yet discriminating and confusing. In the meantime, "Silence of the Sparrow" is more or less the story of Sam (Nils Westblom) and Jonathan (Holger Andersson), lonely salesmen of new stuff, trying to sell vampire teeth, Laughing bags and a tooth mask from Uncle Rubber to make life a little better, but ultimately lead them to despair.
Anderson and his actors rehearsed these false and simple conversations a dozen times or twenty times. Sometimes their own idiosyncrasies or expressions lead to a change in dialogue, but when filming begins, there is no chance. The director typically shoots fifty shots, depending on the environment and the actor's setup. Each element is serving the overall picture. As Anderson said in the documentary "Life Is Like This" (2011), "Art is the state in which people find themselves in every still moment, and they tell us a story without a single word". However, despite the barriers to understanding the narrative, it is because of these barriers that we are so free to watch these clips. This unhurried, wide-angle shot takes on multiple meanings. Like a painting, the film encourages feedback from multiple perspectives. Oddly, this restrictive form gives the audience more room to imagine the story before and after each episode.
Anderson often works with lay actors, choosing backgrounds, ages and looks to suit his Catholic tastes. His actors are all from people he met on the road, people gathered on the street, people he met by chance, and even people he met while shopping at IKEA. Fellini's influence on him is undeniable in this respect, but his choice also reflects Anderson's sympathy for Edward Hopper and the Neo-Objectivist painters Otto Dix and Georg The adoration of Schultz. He borrows a surrealist touch from Scholz, an element of the absurd and a sense of decay from Dix. The characters in "Life Trilogy" are often on the brink of collapse, a feeling amplified by a slightly unnerving approach to filming that stalls in one scene for long periods of time. Rejected by a potential retailer, Sym and Jonathan in "Silence" pack up novelties they don't need, and exit from their office with a heavy and painful walk. Like Hopper, Anderson noticed the painful perception, hovering in the air like a ghost.
The make-up of all his characters is a pale foundation, rather than a layer of lime. It is a symbol of death. Anderson's choice is to emphasize that the common characteristic of human beings is that different paths lead to the same goal. Character costumes are usually monochromatic office worker suits that are baggy at the knees and elbows. Even though people may be vulnerable and vulnerable, they are not ashamed. Like the uniform "white face" in makeup, this mass attire also reduces the personality of the characters and promotes a universal human emotion.
The costumes of the actors fit well with the carefully set movie sets. The urban space scenes in Anderson's films are set with the advice of trompe l'oeil, who has extraordinary imagination and engineering skills. Anderson works to explore less appealing spaces, such as dilapidated cafes and bars, nursing homes, schools, restrooms and waiting areas, especially the cramped rooms of modest apartments. In his review of "As Life Is" he said, "I think it's a very interesting thing to picture the people in the room, the environment they're in." A room can tell us where and how a person is on the planet . Figures appear in my favorite still life paintings, where they are all fragile and one with their dwelling, like an animal is inseparable from its shell.
In Cold Branches and Sparrows, individual and collective memory becomes a form in a fixed environment: people from different eras come and go, sometimes even in the same space. In the third act of Memoirs of an Alcoholic, set in Lame Lotta's bar, his emaciated body is further emaciated by a pillar or even a mother-like waitress. After his last drink, the screen goes black, a line of white headlines appears, and in the same scene, Lotta has her back to the bar. In the center of the shot, a young alcoholic becomes the object of Lotta's singing, dancing around the bar as she sings. Her limping motions are dreamlike and fluid, following her shots scattered to every paying customer. Accompanied by an old Swedish drinking song (what Americans call "John Brown's Body"), her song was echoed by two tables of penniless sailors and soldiers. How will they pay? Lotta happily accepts their kiss instead of Krona. The whole atmosphere is frivolous but sad, and it doesn't feel very stable. Anderson captures the pain and joy in fond memories as the lame but charming Lotta accepts each boy's kiss in turn. Back in the present, with the constant singing, the old man staggered toward the door, the waitresses and customers in the store helped him with his clothes, and his departure reminded people of what awaited them.
Later, in a two-part sequence about King Charles XII (Victor Gillenberg) (whose reign marked the end of the Swedish Empire), the king, his entourage and troops requisitioned on their way to Russia A modern cafe that deports all women and picks a man at random to whip. After a few scenes, the troops returned to Sweden, apparently completely routed and exhausted. War, both past and present, is horribly similar. Lying flat on his back on horseback, the king said he just wanted to use the toilet, but even the royal family faced a modern inconvenience: the men's toilet was full.
In the final, well-crafted scene of "Quiet", the novelty seller Syme dreams of becoming a waiter himself, for the wealthy elders who take pleasure in the splendid performances of the Whitebeard Colonial soldiers Drinks, the Sheepdogs are ready to burn the Aboriginal blacks in a giant copper tumbler. The nightmare merged colonial brutality with the Chilean hazmat disaster of the mid-1980s, in particular the Swedish mining and smelting company Boliden. And so is Anderson's bold reference to the disasters of the past and their legacy today.
Music shapes all images, from traditional Swedish songs to music applications far from home—such as the Dixieland jazz application in You Are Alive. A reinterpretation of the Lame Lotta song from "The Sparrows of Winter", the king's hymn sung by Prince Charles' army, was described in Anderson's graceful commentary as a multiple use of a songbook. Anderson's dialogues are often compared to Samuel Beckett (whose August Strindberg is considered to be his inspiration). Like Beckett, Anderson found rhythm in clichés. The dialogue in each of his films is a repetitive cliché—“Struggling to eat and enjoy life”; “Singing from the second floor”; “Tomorrow is a new day”; Glad to hear you are doing well" "Hanzhiquejing". These languages come either from different environments or from different characters, and they make up the subtleties of Anderson's refined model.
"Life is full of dissatisfaction and flaws, which is touching, funny and even tragic." Anderson said on the DVD director's soundtrack of "You're Alive." To accentuate those moments of frustration, he added an anti-musical element to the soundtrack. In the finale of "You're Alive," one's dream of impending doom becomes a lucid reality as 13 B-52 bombers hover over an unnamed city. Music is active and complex, destruction is a hum. The scenes in "The Quietness of the Sparrow", accompanied by the terrifying round rollers of Bledden (Swedish place name), have skinned dogs, exploding whips, cruel orders, and the howling of babies, which together constitute the execution time. Discordant voice.
Of course, death lurks in The Life Trilogy. However, Anderson uses the form of "absent presence" in "Hard Branches and Sparrows", never depicting and embodying death, but constructing a situation where death seems to be always present. The opening of the film in black on a white background reads "Three Meetings with Death". In one scene—a man dies suddenly, a woman on her death bed, the crisis surrounding a man after his death—Anderson's unique perspective and careful arrangement of survivors suggest that the dead are continually and repeatedly ignored reality. First, the widow is busy in another room; second, the children are arguing over the inheritance; and finally, the ferry passengers and workers are arguing over the whereabouts of the lunch of a dead man who paid but didn’t eat. The dead flicker in these scenes, almost visible, despite the lack of shadowing from the lights Anderson used to use in the film. The perfect combination of absurdity and reality constitutes Anderson's unique film.
Director interview
Megan Ratner: You mentioned playing music and writing when you were young, so did you paint?
Roy Anderson: When I was young I wanted to be a painter, musician and author. I've played the trombone in the orchestra and I've been drawing too. Of course film work combines both – and writing as well.
Ratner: The Life Trilogy marked your transition from early realism to what you call "abstract figurative" style, and it was after some crises that you started to shift, right?
Anderson: My career started out by making realism-style films. I'm a fan of Italian neorealism, especially De Sica. But after fifteen years of trying to make films in this style, I got a little tired of the realism and even planned to stop making films.
Ratner: Are you limited beyond professional considerations?
Anderson: I grew up in a typical Gothenburg working-class family. Although I studied French, German and English at school, my parents didn't know any foreign language. The working class really likes realism. And abstraction seems a little bourgeois, a little high-society. This made me hesitate for years, but I'm still glad I took the chance.
Ratner: Instead, you found inspiration elsewhere.
Anderson: Exactly, I suddenly realized that now I should be bold enough to move away from realism. Go for what I call a more abstract style. I found a lot of inspiration from my previous painting experience and from Fellini and Buñuel.
Ratner: You've talked about working from some memory of reality, rather than collecting data to accurately reproduce it. Does this process lead you to explore something more essential?
Anderson: If you remember your childhood or anything else you've seen, reconstructing scenes from your memory may lose some detail. Instead, you will reduce and condense the most essential parts. That's why I like to set up some scenes from dreams or condensed memories.
Ratner: How did you keep track of the scenes you collected?
Anderson: Unfortunately, I won't write them down. I missed some fantastic scenes, which is a bit of a shame. I don't know if it was pouring rain in Stockholm or London that day. I saw a little girl about seven years old holding an umbrella, I couldn't see her face, the umbrella was colorful and there were a lot of small eyes that might be cat eyes. His dad, a tall man, crouched down to help her tie her shoelaces, getting wet and wet. It's enough to be a scene in my movie.
Ratner: You often add in very trivial, usually mundane things. Take, for example, two little girls blowing bubbles on the balcony of the apartment in "Quiet the Birds". They don't appear anywhere else in the film, except to try to catch a bubble. But this scene is very memorable.
Anderson: Given my history of painting in the past, almost everything seemed so interesting. I was flipping through a history of British painting and came across a picture of a girl sitting in a room with a green apple in her hand. Title: "Green Apple Girl", very beautiful.
Ratner: You always put a separate scene before the title. Like a prelude to your series, what do you think?
Anderson: I want people to know what kind of movie they're going to watch. In "Hanzhiqujing", I want to arouse the curiosity of the audience: what is this? what just happened? I like when people are confused or curious about what will happen in the future.
Ratner: The placement of the actors is as important to you as the lighting and the set, do you help them choreograph the action?
Anderson: I roughly know where in the room I want them to be. Body language is very important, such as people's movements and rhythms. Rhythm is very important. There are some real flamenco dance scenes in Chill. I have visited many flamingo schools and teachers. I learned a lot from rehearsing with flamenco.
Ratner: You talked about pace and rhythm, but much of that also depends on your work hours. In "The Song" there is a scene where Lars Nord is in a bedroom with a woman (his wife or mistress). She was lying on the satin sheets, facing the camera with his back to him, and he told her his own business was ruined.
Anderson: I laughed when I thought about how that scene ended. He ruined the company, but all she said was: "You could have called ahead. She was a little provocative, and you could have called ahead.
Ratner: Not knowing Swedish when watching a movie is a disadvantage because you rely heavily on translation. There's a scene in It's Like Life where you interact with Håkan Angser, who plays a weary psychiatrist, which is very revealing. When you work with actors, do you design the dialogue in advance.
Anderson: I had a rough idea of the dialogue, and it was only when I brought the actors in for the scene that I settled on the dialogue. Then rehearsed with the actors a dozen times, maybe twenty times.
Ratner: You often have several characters in the foreground and depth of field. There is a scene in "Han Zhi Que Jing" where a soldier is in the restaurant and wonders why his team hasn't come yet. Flamenco students say goodbye to their teacher after he is very sorry to tell a man he may have made a mistake.
Anderson: This very particular scene showed very clearly that I was trying to arrange for the foreground and the depth of field to happen at the same time.
Ratner: The silences get longer and more complex as the trilogy progresses.
Anderson: Yes, consciously indeed. For example, there is such a scene in "Han Zhi Que Jing": the manager of a large company, we guess he may want to commit suicide. For a long time he just stood there and the only sound was thunder. He's just standing there with a gun in his hand and a phone in his ear listening, and you quickly wonder if he's going to shoot himself. Finally he said "I'm glad to hear you feel better." But until then, he just told you everything in silence.
Ratner: It seems to be a continuation of another form of painting, omitting certain details to bring the picture to life. Take Rembrandt's pearl bracelet, for example, which is blurry and indistinct at close range. You often simplify things in ways that suggest rather than show.
Anderson: I'm often jealous of painting as an art form. The reason is that the history of film is far less rich than that of painting. I really wish movies could be like paintings.
Ratner: That room didn't have a door, it was dark brown and green, looking like Edward Hopper.
Anderson: It's probably about loneliness. And this light, I often use light effects without shadows, the light interprets time and fully exposes people to it.
Ratner: Hopper seems to be important to your work.
Anderson: It's about loneliness. His paintings often look both beautiful and sad. Painted a painting called "The Office at Night" for a while the secretary stood next to the man, who seemed to be about to say something or had said something. The painting is about waiting, it's very moving, like a movie.
Ratner: This figure is also exposed to brutal light, like the manager of your company.
Anderson: Yes, my film light is often relentless. The manager of that company seemed to have nowhere to hide.
Ratner: "The Office at Night" and the scene of the company manager hint at people waiting. This theme is also one that you return to often.
Anderson: Waiting is special. There was more waiting in Hopper. Making waiting interesting depends on how people wait, how they dress, where you place the characters, how they relate to and how isolated they are from those around them. It's a long pause of silence, like the impatient old lady in "Han Zhi Que Jing" seems to want to say, "Is it necessary to look at this too?"
Ratner: Silence is your first foray into digital technology, and I'm so glad you made a difference.
Anderson: I'm also very happy that I can shoot like this. To me, this style takes me back to the Stone Age. Having a monitor next to the camera works great, so you can see the footage right away. In the past, we could only see what was filmed after the filming was over. Now we can see right away. However, the full effect is still to be seen at the end. But using a monitor for rehearsal shots is a great way to do it. I didn't believe I could shoot like this until now, and I'm so glad I found it.
Ratner: Do you need digital effects for your films?
Anderson: In two scenes. I used digital technology to lengthen Charles XII's cavalry, and in the studio you can't have a thousand horses, even though we have twenty or thirty. And the fire under the colony's circular drum (the giant cylinder that burned the natives of Africa) was made digitally.
Ratner: Every time I watch the final scene, my heart aches: the soldiers, the dogs, and the people driven into the barrel by violence.
Anderson: Those people on the observation deck are also the responsible generation, maybe they weren't personally involved in this brutal event, but they were accomplices in the abuse.
Ratner: On the "Songs from the Second Floor" DVD director track, you talk about a sense of guilt about being and an individual sense of responsibility for past collective actions.
Anderson: I've been working on what's called reconciliation, how we treat the poor in war and the people who exploit them.
Ratner: Did this sense of responsibility come from when you were young?
Anderson: I was born in the 1940s, when Sweden was in a period of prosperity, which is called a harmonious society. Compared to the times when I was growing up, Sweden has gradually fallen out of this harmony. But I always think it's good, how can this planet exist if it loses its responsibility to nature and other people?
Ratner: You have said that art is a way of making people more transparent. Wondering if you'll be more thorough after filming the Life Trilogy?
Anderson: Yes (with some hesitation), I got a sense of clarity from the production and filming set. Watching them later will make me a little bit wiser and understand how important the mistakes of history are to our times. After Louis XII and his army retreated from the failed war against Russia in "The Quietness of the Branches", in a bar, the waiter at the bar pointed to two women and said, "You have become the widows of Poltava, you The widow's veil will be put on soon." Then they began to cry. I'm glad I thought of that scene and talked about it that way. This actually comes from Brecht's literature, and my films often blend painting and literature, even if it's not obvious at times, but that's where my inspiration comes from.
Ratner: You changed your perspective on glory to focus on the pain of war.
Anderson: It's our real existence and our time and the past, and everything that exists is influenced by the past.
Ratner: Are you working on your next work?
Anderson: Yes, I prepared some investigations, contacted some team members, have a rough script, believe the next time will be more wild.
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