based on the one film and my knowledge of her other work, it's pretty clear to me that ulrike ottinger SHOULD have the respect/regonition that, say, jodorowsky does. i'm still trying to wrap my brain around this one: the first third is set aboard the transsiberian railway in a stylish + drolly surreal manner that recalls GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL filtered through merideth monk (mostly i mean her one feature, BOOK OF DAYS, which is all that i'm familiar with, but i can't help but assume her dance and choreography work deals in the same deliberate, almost comically careful physical gestures i see here and in monk's film). i felt an odd distance from the opening, perhaps bc of how quickly it begins, but it all clicked during the unbroken, extended shot of the katz character describing his dinner order with the most flowery language i've ever heard. however, i remain mostly flummuxed by the remaining 66%, which becomes a sort of ethnographic fantasy film about the rituals and lives of nomadic mongolian tribespeople. such a conceit, especially with white characters observing it all, could become an easy source of uncomfortable exoticism, but in of the film's voiceover especially, i think it's fair to say that's the whole point. i don't know too much about the history of the type of faux-ethnographic film that would become popular on the festival circuit a few decades later, but this seems to both establish that format and deconstruct it in a single blow. gorgeous blocking (the way the three singers' bodies were arranged never failed to crack me up) and color palette (bold red, rich light greens, purevwhite, light pink). accessibility is most certainly going to be an issue (i was lucky enough to catch this at MOMA), but im definitely encouraged by my first encounter with ulrike ottinger
Ottinger moves beyond simple cultural relativism here, she foregrounds the performative interactions that arise when cultures meet across historical lines of power and capital. Not sure if it's entirely successful, but I like the meta-commentary on the artificiality of Western expectations.
An all-in-one road movie, feminist fantasia, and anthropology doc, this exuberant epic from Ulrike Ottinger is unlike anything I’ve seen. Ottinger has an omnivorous mind and fittingly opens with a serpentine 360-degree pan around the luxe train suite of Lady Windermere (shoutout to Oscar Wilde). Played with lithe sophistication by Delphine Seyrig, she advances, in her sly voiceover, the notion of an “alliance” between imagination and reality. Visually, that means location shooting plus a few fancifully hand-painted sets. Thematically, it’s music and storytelling as transformative ritual, starting with a sublime 30-minute sequence with ten passengers in the dining car. A tale of tree spirits and a magical root gives way to Yiddish and Broadway showtunes; the chef appears, clarinet in hand, and the Russian soldier unleashes a skillful tap-dance. It’s fucking magnificent — unpredictable, buoyant, full of life and invention. Once the seven women leave the Trans-Siberian Express with a tribe of nomadic women warriors, the movie delves deeper into the difference between the explorer and the tourist. Who travels to experience and who to consume? Ottinger approaches the ancient culture with intelligence and curiosity. There are no “white saviors” here; the outsiders watch with respect and participate when invited. Even with the erudite Windermere as part-time translator, it’s far too beautiful and way too much fun to ever feel didactic. With drumming and dancing, blood rituals and 1980s fashion, it moves like a dream.
