Jack Becker, Creative Writing & Psychology, CC ’21
I am deeply thrilled to be presenting with the Avant Garde. When I was little, I despised music of this sort, like I did black and white movies and silent films. Now that I’m older, I’ve begun to realize the intricacies and beauties of both the Avant Garde and silent filmography, especially the movie The Passion of Joan of Arc, a psychological and profound French film from 1928 that depicts the trial of Joan of Arc. Watching this movie, I am smitten by the intense close-ups of Renée Jeanne Falconetti, the searing urgency that comes with a commingling of defiance and intense vulnerability. Listening to Kaija Saariaho’s boundless orchestrations in L’amor de lion, I was reminded of this particular stirring scene from The Passion, in which Joan of Arc is questioned by the court on whether God has made her any promises.
Pay close attention to the subtleties of the actor’s movements. It’s amazing how much a single look, a single aversion of the eyes, can influence the story so tremendously. It makes me think of every note in the opening swell of L’amor de lion, which feel discordant and yet are working in fabulous tandem. Also pay attention to any peculiar sensations you might have watching this film, namely the inner-suggestion that pieces of film nearly a hundred years old almost take on a modern quality with the passage of time, lending it to becoming an almost new kind of “avant garde.” I am convinced that if someone made a film similar to The Passion today, they would be regarded as a post-modernist dabbling in minimalism. I wouldn’t be surprised if this has already happened.
I recommend watching this clip overlaid with the beginning moments of L’amor de lion. While the following video has a soundtrack, try muting it and seeing how the overlay of Saariaho affects the meaning of the scene.
Music Humanities Spring 2020 Section 13 Class Blog 