Un dimanche matin (A Sunday Morning) by Damien Manivel

Simple stories are the hardest to tell and silent films with a simple story even harder. A middle aged, out of shape man gets up before dawn and takes his dog for a walk. They walk until the sun comes out; meet more people on the way as the town awakes almost as if searching for something they will never find. The man does not engage much with his surroundings nor does the dog. They walk along the streets, the dog goes for a quick swim and they both seem to take the position of observers. But is that not the position the viewer is supposed to take and where are we supposed to be then? In a way we are the silent members of the street, encountering a man with his dog. On the other hand, there is the moment when the dog moves towards the camera, almost as if making contact with the viewer; and so it might also be a little game that this film plays with the viewer – now you see me, now you don’t. In praise of the director, using the actor’s body as the only tool to tell the story on a natural background, it must be said that the story is a subtle one. It seems to be about loneliness and friendship, a confusing condition pretty much describing the modern society where everyone is an isolated island, but desperately tries to find somwhere to belong. This man has his dog and the suburbs of Paris are their playground. We do not know answers to the question of how or why or what, but we see him as if we were also walking on the streets that Sunday morning.

by Greta Varts (Estonia)