TWILIGHT

This film, taken on a stormy day along the coast of the North Sea, simultaneously registers the development of a storm and the descent of nightfall. The wide panoramic image shows us a stretch of sand and surf, and the turbulent sky above. A courageous walker passes by with his dog. The camera too braves the harsh weather conditions. It explores the coastline and the horizon from left to right and back, in a wide, repetitive swinging movement whose amplitude gradually diminishes and ultimately, as darkness falls, comes to a complete stop. The music accompanying the film follows a similarly shrinking course. At the beginning of the film, you hear the sound of 30 violins, each of which holds a single note, from the highest to the lowest. At the end of each of the swinging movements, one of the instruments falls silent, beginning with the lowest note, until all that remains is the thin and fragile sound of the highest tone. But despite the length of the film and meticulous attention to meteorological progress, despite the carefully directed musical accompaniment, the switch from day into night remains an abrupt and unavoidable phenomenon, frightening in its inscrutability. (given by Michel Lorand)