Film Reviewsa pigeon sat on a branch reflecting on existence: doin' the pigeonJuly 10, 2015 Anchorage Press
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A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence (En duva satt på en gren och funderade på tillvaron, original Swedish title) is the third installment in Roy Andersson's Living trilogy. The other two films in the trilogy are Songs from the Second Floor, and You, the Living. Unfortunately, these are not easily accessible to American audiences, and it may be that for many viewers A Pigeon Sat on a Branch will be slightly out of context from the comprehensive body of work; nevertheless, A Pigeon Sat on a Branch stands on its own; the film is intellectually delightful. In an age where thoughts, images and sounds pass viewers by at a million miles per hour, A Pigeon Sat on a Branch will challenge viewers to wait for it, and wait for it until there it is, like magic!
The film opens with a shot of two aloof and nubbly people waltzing about a natural science museum ogling at birds suspended in their taxidermy dioramas. The waltzing-music and all-sets the stage for the entire film. The characters and places emerge in absurd vignettes that at first seem unrelated, but as the film develops these characters, places and things keep coming back as if on a merry-go-round until it all makes sense. The vignettes are reminiscent of Andersson's early work making commercials that had a very particular style and sense of humor. Andersson is often compared to Ingmar Bergman, a comparison the many similarities in their work justifies, yet there are many differences and variations in their aesthetic sensitivities.
A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence is a quiet film, but the pace is actually quite consistent with Andersson's comedic timing. Some of Andersson's vignettes express an overarching sense of lassitude that flows into the realm of depression, but just when they get to the brink of falling into the abyss something happens-and it's funny. Other vignettes are socially critical of Swedish and European history. There are a couple of scenes in particular that will take viewers aback because of how beautifully they come about without ever breaking the pace or pattern of the film, and yet they are jarring and damning commentaries on the many social and scientific achievements in the developed world that have come at the expense of nature and people in underdeveloped or developing nations.
A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence evokes the image described in the title in the present day, however, it was actually inspired by a 1565 painting titled "The Hunters in the Snow" by Pieter Bruegel the Elder. The painting depicts a wide view of a village against a mountainous landscape, in the foreground are trees with birds, and underneath them is a group of hunters descending on the village. The idea of a pigeon observing and even interfering with the human experience is not new, it is also employed in the novella, The Pigeon by Patrick Süskind, where the presence of a pigeon in the orderly life of a security guard sends him spiraling into an existential crisis. The Süskind character could have just as easily fit into Andersson's collection of players.
The ennui that marks many of the characters is aided by Andersson's use of sterile and almost-monochromatic sets and costumes. On the surface, the characters seem restrained, and even muffled by their environment. However, the superb acting gives away the emotions, fears and hopes that lay just below the surface. Andersson's motley crew includes a sea captain who gets seasick so he becomes a barber; a plump flamenco dancer teeming with desire for her unrequited love; two deadpan friends selling novelty items to make people laugh while they are in their own version of Waiting for Godot; a man who is always at the wrong place, at the wrong time; a King and his troops before and after battle, just to name a few. Andersson creates distance between the players and the viewers with wide shots, views through windows and from afar-a bird's eye view of sorts. But where is the main protagonist, the pigeon? There is low and consistent cooing that comes in at precise moments in A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence, but it could very well be that the viewers usurp the title role as their chuckles echo the cooing of the pigeon on the branch reflecting on existence.
A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence shows at Bear Tooth on Monday, July 13 at 8 p.m.
The film opens with a shot of two aloof and nubbly people waltzing about a natural science museum ogling at birds suspended in their taxidermy dioramas. The waltzing-music and all-sets the stage for the entire film. The characters and places emerge in absurd vignettes that at first seem unrelated, but as the film develops these characters, places and things keep coming back as if on a merry-go-round until it all makes sense. The vignettes are reminiscent of Andersson's early work making commercials that had a very particular style and sense of humor. Andersson is often compared to Ingmar Bergman, a comparison the many similarities in their work justifies, yet there are many differences and variations in their aesthetic sensitivities.
A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence is a quiet film, but the pace is actually quite consistent with Andersson's comedic timing. Some of Andersson's vignettes express an overarching sense of lassitude that flows into the realm of depression, but just when they get to the brink of falling into the abyss something happens-and it's funny. Other vignettes are socially critical of Swedish and European history. There are a couple of scenes in particular that will take viewers aback because of how beautifully they come about without ever breaking the pace or pattern of the film, and yet they are jarring and damning commentaries on the many social and scientific achievements in the developed world that have come at the expense of nature and people in underdeveloped or developing nations.
A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence evokes the image described in the title in the present day, however, it was actually inspired by a 1565 painting titled "The Hunters in the Snow" by Pieter Bruegel the Elder. The painting depicts a wide view of a village against a mountainous landscape, in the foreground are trees with birds, and underneath them is a group of hunters descending on the village. The idea of a pigeon observing and even interfering with the human experience is not new, it is also employed in the novella, The Pigeon by Patrick Süskind, where the presence of a pigeon in the orderly life of a security guard sends him spiraling into an existential crisis. The Süskind character could have just as easily fit into Andersson's collection of players.
The ennui that marks many of the characters is aided by Andersson's use of sterile and almost-monochromatic sets and costumes. On the surface, the characters seem restrained, and even muffled by their environment. However, the superb acting gives away the emotions, fears and hopes that lay just below the surface. Andersson's motley crew includes a sea captain who gets seasick so he becomes a barber; a plump flamenco dancer teeming with desire for her unrequited love; two deadpan friends selling novelty items to make people laugh while they are in their own version of Waiting for Godot; a man who is always at the wrong place, at the wrong time; a King and his troops before and after battle, just to name a few. Andersson creates distance between the players and the viewers with wide shots, views through windows and from afar-a bird's eye view of sorts. But where is the main protagonist, the pigeon? There is low and consistent cooing that comes in at precise moments in A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence, but it could very well be that the viewers usurp the title role as their chuckles echo the cooing of the pigeon on the branch reflecting on existence.
A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence shows at Bear Tooth on Monday, July 13 at 8 p.m.