Blind (18.)
Directed by Eskil Vogt.
Starring Ellen Dorrit Petersen, Henrik Rafaelsen, Vera Vitali and Marius Kolbenstvedt. Norwegian with subtitles. 96 mins
A film about voyeurism centred on a blind central character – that's a workable irony. Since going blind in her twenties, Ingrid (Petersen) has chosen to stay in her flat, despite the coaxing of her husband (Rafaelsen) From there she has developed a rich and lurid fantasy life in which she constructs narratives involving her husband's imagined infidelities with a woman (Vitali) who is a less pretty version of herself (or maybe what she imagines herself to look like now) and the struggles of tubby Aphex Twin-looking loner Einar (Kolbenstvedt) who is a voracious consumer of pornography.
It's a very Dennis Potter-esque set up. Reality and fantasy flow seamlessly together; characterisation and the setting can change mid scene, victim to an impromptu Ingrid redraft. It's very inventive but, as with anything that is very Dennis Potter-like, you can't help feeling a little wary and suspicious. Is this really a sensitive portrayal of the frustrations of blindness, or a male sex fantasy? Ultimately, it's a bit of both; these two strands engage in a lively tussle that ends up just about honours even.
It is certainly a fruity little number. Do we really need to see the graphic montage of the variety and extent of Einar's porn obsession? Or the other bits of nudity? The film offers a validation for them. Near the beginning Ingrid explains that the nerves in her eyes will gradually wilt without new visual impulses, but the process can be slowed down by mentally reconstructing the world she could once see and by supplying fresh visual stimuli. So these are therapeutic sex fantasies, a visual representation of healing process. I don't really buy that rational but I admire Vogt's front.
Directed by Eskil Vogt.
Starring Ellen Dorrit Petersen, Henrik Rafaelsen, Vera Vitali and Marius Kolbenstvedt. Norwegian with subtitles. 96 mins
A film about voyeurism centred on a blind central character – that's a workable irony. Since going blind in her twenties, Ingrid (Petersen) has chosen to stay in her flat, despite the coaxing of her husband (Rafaelsen) From there she has developed a rich and lurid fantasy life in which she constructs narratives involving her husband's imagined infidelities with a woman (Vitali) who is a less pretty version of herself (or maybe what she imagines herself to look like now) and the struggles of tubby Aphex Twin-looking loner Einar (Kolbenstvedt) who is a voracious consumer of pornography.
It's a very Dennis Potter-esque set up. Reality and fantasy flow seamlessly together; characterisation and the setting can change mid scene, victim to an impromptu Ingrid redraft. It's very inventive but, as with anything that is very Dennis Potter-like, you can't help feeling a little wary and suspicious. Is this really a sensitive portrayal of the frustrations of blindness, or a male sex fantasy? Ultimately, it's a bit of both; these two strands engage in a lively tussle that ends up just about honours even.
It is certainly a fruity little number. Do we really need to see the graphic montage of the variety and extent of Einar's porn obsession? Or the other bits of nudity? The film offers a validation for them. Near the beginning Ingrid explains that the nerves in her eyes will gradually wilt without new visual impulses, but the process can be slowed down by mentally reconstructing the world she could once see and by supplying fresh visual stimuli. So these are therapeutic sex fantasies, a visual representation of healing process. I don't really buy that rational but I admire Vogt's front.
