[Bandwith warning: this article contains a lot of images]
Owing its unity to its variations, Hong Sang-soo’s oeuvre provokes inventory-making more than others. One will find here a collection of some of the running motifs, those called for by memory and those formed as the images were collected. Floating motifs, from plate to plate – drawing, between rigidity and woolliness, between heaven and earth, an art of posture and distance, in which any relationship and resemblance could be mere coincidence. Clinking as pleasantly, we hope, as glasses on a table.

“For me, a film is good if it provides me with new feelings and modifies my way of thinking. That is why form is so important for me. We all share the same material. But the form we use, leads to different feelings or new ways of questioning, to new desires. So I don’t think I can be defined as formalistic or realistic. These categories simplify things. My first three films could be called formalistic, the last ones a little less so. I am only conscious of my desires.”

“Imagine this rectangle is real life. I try to come as close as possible to it. How ? Using details of my life, things I’ve lived, things I heard from other people I know or I just met. I always mix different sources, and it’s never about myself, but it looks like something that happened, or looks like its about me. I want it to be like that. I realized that when I was 23 and was writing a script based on a real story. I felt too tense; I couldn’t move. I needed distance. In the same way, my films are never a parallel line to reality. What I tend to do is to follow an arrow towards reality, avoiding it at the very last second.”

In reality, [Hong Sang-soo’s] absolute mundanity remains a decoy. Of all renowned filmmakers of the last ten years, he is without a doubt the one that has least searched for signature effects and immediate tokens of seduction, with the relative exception of the beautiful harshness of his black and white films. He remains a filmmaker of pure visual prose, all the while constructing stories whose framework is related to pure, poetic arbitrariness. So is Hong Sang-soo a filmmaker of prose or poetry? It’s a pity that Pasolini isn’t around anymore to give us the answer.

Every time an image emerges from the depths, something changes: in size, intensity or movement, or in the relationship it establishes with other images – from other layers. In the course of these changes, the argument, the train of thought, the story of the film develops.

Marguerite Duras based her film Les mains négatives on the Magdalenian caves at the Atlantic coast, where the imprints of hands were found. Thirty-thousand years ago, someone placed her hand against the cave wall and sprayed pigment over it, creating a coloured halo of the hand. When she did this, her hand transformed from a tool into an image. The moment the painter made these imprints is fossilized. Even though the moment of this act took place thousands of years ago, it still exists.

Tonight would have been the opening night of the Courtisane Festival in Ghent. Due to the COVID virus, the organizers of the festival were forced to cancel entirely, including the first part of the Out of the Shadows programme. On the occasion of this programme, Courtisane, Sabzian and KASK School of Arts joined efforts to compile an accompanying publication, focussing on the work of five Arab female film directors: Atteyat Al-Abnoudy, Selma Baccar, Assia Djebar, Jocelyne Saab and Heiny Srour. As the actual release is unclear at the moment, Sabzian publishes a first text from the publication, by the Algerian filmmaker and writer Assia Djebar (1936-2015). “For me, cinema is neither a “job” – in the sense of a career – nor a “vocation” – in the sense of a calling. What is it, then, for me, having made my first film shortly after the age of forty, then a second one shortly after the age of forty-five?”

De krantenkoppen prijzen herhaaldelijk de manier waarop Girls en Fleabag moedig nieuw feministisch terrein hebben ontgonnen, alsof de geschiedenis van het westerse feminisme al niet getekend werd door het verheffen van witte hogeremiddenklassestemmen tot een onverdiend universeel niveau. Politiek wordt nauwelijks behandeld, aan de kant geschoven ten voordele van krantenkopvriendelijke, betuttelende modewoorden inzake “generationele kwesties”. (...) Dit is niet bedoeld als een aanklacht tegen deze werken, noch als een suggestie dat er iets “fout” is met de personages. We mogen van kunst niet eisen de wereld af te beelden zoals we die graag zouden zien. Het probleem is dat zovelen van ons een verhaal van radicale zelfemancipatie zien waar er geen is.

125 jaar geleden, op 22 maart 1895, werd voor de eerste keer in de geschiedenis een film geprojecteerd voor een publiek van ongeveer tien personen. Tijdens een speciale bijeenkomst in de Société d’Encouragement à l’Industrie Nationale toonde Louis Lumière er zijn eerste film: Sortie des ouvriers de l’usine de Monplaisir. Naar aanleiding van deze 125ste verjaardag van de cinema, publiceert Sabzian een aantal fragmenten uit Histoire du cinématographe: de ses origines à nos jours (1925) van Georges-Michel Coissac waarin hij onder andere de geschiedenis schrijft van deze wonderbaarlijke eerste filmvertoningen. “En we dachten: de heren Lumière zijn grote tovenaars.”