Published by ANNE DENIAU aka ANN RAY





When it is not limited to fiction, the film mystifies time and reality, and therefore films are much more violent than still images. Memories are still. You can't remember precisely the beauty of the gesture, you can remember the frozen moment, the moment when the gesture was stopped, and captured, already mortal. The film is lying since it brings life into death. In a movie lies the unbearable fragility of the human being. Reluctancy to accept. Anything for illusion.

Images are still, firm, stopped, anchored, solid. Images don't lie, they match the exact moment, they don't pretend. The film tells a story that does not exist any more. There is more humility in images. Images have always been serious since they deal with the vanishing time. Images don't lack decency like the films do sometimes. They know they always belong to the past, they know they embody nothing but faded moments.

Images are breathless, since day one, since the very first moment. Whereas the film breathes, inhales, exhales, inspires, and never expires. And no matter how appealing it might seem, it's nothing but a delusion.







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