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Samuel Ouellet1.5

How can you call yourself an « experimental » movie when there’s absolutely nothing to experiment throughout. Boring movie.

Harrison Wade4.0

Audrey grieves and two friends send her videos. At some point in the exchange, forgetting is compared with the growth of plants, the way a seed makes room for a sprout. Forgetting, not remembering, doesn't take away from the materiality of what happened. Something like how shooting a shot for a friend will mean invariably leaving your mark on the image, because it was your presence and not someone else's. Or like unlinking audio and video, stealing someone's words, and translating. Two days later, and the care in this movie is even more apparent. About being lost and the landmarks that guide us. Sometimes that's art and the people that make it and what their work means to another's life. Sometimes it's writing a friend a letter, making an image, sharing a dream.I didn't know 3D could have such depth and texture.

Florian Weigl5.0

Audrey is grieving Juliane. She has moved back into the Maison Du Bonheur. Letters under the doormat, ghosts in the margins, pushing through and rescinding again. Blake and Burak send her videos which she edits and passes on to the respective other. Blake has send her a 3D camera and tasks her with some shots of a gondola which she delivers. Burak is between Germany, Turkey and the relics of older civilizations. "My life is full of landmarks / I could never get lost."Blake tries to visit Audrey via Google Maps and finds her but gets lost as the app bends his images through matter and time and he decides to revisit spaces of his memories. Audrey bakes a plait but never eats it. She fashions a small sack out of a handkerchief and a piece of rope and goes fishing for advice in the streets of Paris and the Seine. It is mildly helpful. Mostly she is alone. Smoking alone in bed, smoking alone on the balcony, diligently translating between the others. Audrey puts her 3D glasses on. Blake films a piece of cloth swaying in the wind or a long zoom out of a winter window which bends towards the cosmic. Audrey takes them off again. Burak films a man trying to make contact with a dog. He consoles it and asks if he can pet it (he can) and if it wants to follow him home (it won't). "Who has broken your heart?" Davachi's score gains in intensity and then ebbs off again. Blake talks about Zen On Film by Nam June Paik, a film which consists only of white leader so that each projection leaves its trace, that the film begins to assemble and carry its own history. Burak tells about a piece of metal which fell from the ceiling. Corrosion is metal working through crisis. Later he throws an old TV (the one Blake filmed on?) out of the window and sifts through the remains. The parts are hard to remove, hold on to the skeleton, to the idea that if you could spool back a second they might be whole and in harmony again. Audrey goes out to film the doves and the water but the camera is a piece of shit and will barely make it to the next shot. Grief comes in waves, shadows which don't allign. There is time -- days pass and are taken back again , a week passes, spring comes -- and we feel it in the flowers. Something is moving forward. Audrey wears a ruffled yellow, finely sewed sweater. Audrey wears a bright, green cap. Audrey wears a non-descriptive grey hoodie. Audrey leaves a piece of pink fabric out in the roses during the last days of winter.