A black, shaky image, like fireworks, intermittently making light suddenly appears, barely leaving us a chance to discern the visible. Then an apartment, in the half-light, empty until a woman’s body steps forth in the fine light strip and we see her hands peeling an onion. Two plans sharing lights as they rise with some emphasis brought by an Emily Dickinson poem: an evocation of lights of the unknown as vivid as lightning tracing lines in the night sky.
Right at the outset, the parameters carrying Incidences are thus presented: interaction between poems and images which, between illustrating and explaining, is mainly about mutual clarification; counterpoint between crossed spaces, often indistinct or only partially identifiable, and contemplation of the other’s body, approached through fragments and close-ups; the interplay of presence and absence, of bodies expected and absent or rising again like an apparition. Incidences works with film; it dwells on texture, on what is blurred, and on outbursts of light. The pan of a dress pulled by bosoms echoes the curtain folds through which the sunlight filters from the outside. With poems and fragments of spaces and bodies by way of material, the film patiently builds a relationship to the world guided by love for the other, where contemplating the one we love permeates and haunts wonder while facing the sensible. (N.L.)