A minimalist with an epic vision, Angelopoulos has created imposing cinematic tableaux about his homeland, from his first international successes, Days of ’36 and Traveling Players. Typically, each scene, which may run for two, three or 10 mins., is a single shot, in which the educated eye discovers all manner of subtle drama in furtive glances, in silences when there’s nothing to say, in the corners of the screen. Ulysses’ Gaze is nothing less than a synopsis of 20th century Greek history in a film of about three hours and 60 shots. Dozens, then hundreds of protestors materialize on an Athens street. A ship with a huge bust of Lenin floats down a canal. The most amazing scene, again a single shot, tells the story of five family gatherings on New Year’s Eve during the Communist insurgency from 1945 to 1950. “Auld Lang Syne” is sung; a son is arrested; the son returns; a death is announced; “Auld Lang Syne.” Life, Angelopoulos says, is a pageant best seen from a distance, where we can discern its larger contours, its greater meaning, its unbearable and heroic poignance.
One of Italian Neorealism’s last and deepest sighs, with Carlo Battisti as a retired civil servant, impoverished and isolated trying to survive in a society that has dispensed with him. His only relationship is with his beloved dog, and when it runs away the effect on him—on us watching—is devastating. Cesare Zavattini, the writer who defined Neorealism as much as its directors did, never wrote more simply and directly and De Sica realizes his work with perfect clarity.
Sue me, but I like Betty Draper/Francis as a character. The problem is that Mad Men doesn’t. Betty’s not the worst character on the show, but she’s probably the worst-served.