It’s an intriguing opening scene, and I’m pulled in
immediately, wondering about this woman who has a certain mystery about her. We
see her alone on the bed, and only after we get a sense of her by herself are
we shown her family. She reads to her son at night. And then in the daylight
we’re introduced to her husband, Max (Dragan Bakema), in a very wide shot.
We’re not at all close to them, as she asks him to pick up their son. Then, in
great contrast, the film cuts to an extreme close-up of them making love. In
fact, we’re so close that at first we can only see her face, with him in
shadow. By bringing us close to her in that moment the film gives us a glimpse
of what’s important to her, what’s happening in her mind.
It’s only after that that we learn she is a doctor and
see her at work. White curtains separate the patients, and she looks in on a
man. She enters, then draws the curtain closed behind her, and the camera
lingers for a moment on the closed curtain. One thing I love about this film is
the way the camera is allowed to remain on an object or a scene. The film is
not in a hurry, which is refreshing.
The camera then shows us details of the apartment she’s
rented, and we see there is a man there, asleep, next to her, turned away so
that we can’t see his face. His face is unimportant. His identity is
unimportant, to us as well as to her. It’s a nice, quiet scene as she rolls
over toward him. This movie is able to do so much without dialogue, which is
another thing that I love about it. It draws us in, almost having us experience
these moments rather than telling us about them.
The shots are so well composed. There is a shot where she
stands in that apartment, and she is at the right side of the screen. On the
left side, slightly back, is the bed, which extends close to the center of the
shot. A man enters frame, but actually stands so far to the right side as to be
partially out of frame, and his back is to us as he begins to touch her. So
while the action is his, the more dominant elements are Charlotte and, of
course, the bed. And there is no dialogue.
Charlotte is beautiful and oddly enchanting, even as she
approaches these liaisons in a somewhat scholarly way. We do see her in bed
again with her husband, showing the great contrast, almost like she is a
different person with him. For one thing, she actually speaks to him. “I love you,” she says. And she appears
happy, even radiant, which is so different from how she appears in the
apartment.
Each scene’s focus is very strong. There is one scene in
the apartment where the camera remains on her, while we hear a man come into
the room. What we see is her watching him, until he eventually comes into
frame. Then in a parent-teacher conference scene, the focus is on Max, giving
us the sense that perhaps he suspects something. It’s done with the composition
of the shot as well as the actor’s look toward her, but without any dialogue.
The film becomes even more interesting when she
unexpectedly runs into one of the men she slept with. She freaks out and even
attacks him, and it seems like it’s because she is not in control of the
situation. This is not a scene of her own making, and she can’t handle it. And
that leads to a change in the film, when her husband learns about her actions,
and they enter counseling.
There is something eerily serene about Charlotte, even as
she talks to the counselor or takes her husband to the apartment, which gives
you the sense that her inner turmoil must be all the worse. Sandra Hüller’s performance is remarkable.
Brownian Movement
was written and directed by Nanouk Leopold. The DVD contains no special
features. It is scheduled to be released on May 6, 2014 through First Run
Features.
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