ANTONIO GAUDÍ: THE CRITERION COLLECTION - DVD review

According to British art critic Robert Hughes, "Barcelona without (Antonio) Gaudí is unthinkable like a peacock with a bald back side." Gaudí (1852-1926) was a Catalan architect whose bright, colorful designs appear to contain no straight lines whatsoever; the man never met a parabolic curve he didn't like. Gaudí's building are nearly as idiosyncratic as the man himself; an intensely pious, celibate work-a-holic, Gaudí lived his life and his faith through his architecture. Gaudí's monastic lifestyle contrasts so sharply with his sinuous, seductive forms that he has become an unlikely, enigmatic hero for many artists, including the Surrealists who embraced (and appropriated) Gaudí's work into their movement.

You won't learn any of this from watching Hiroshi Teshigahara's equally enigmatic and seductive tone poem "Antonio Gaudí" (1984), a nearly wordless contemplation of the shapes and spaces that comprise Gaudí's legacy to Barcelona and to the world. Hiroshi's film doles out its information so sparely that, if you didn't recognize the building's being shown, the only indication that the film is about Gaudí comes from the title.

In one of many canny moves, Hiroshi does not begin the film with any of Gaudí's work. Rather he orients the viewer to the city of Barcelona; people gather around a luminous fountain at night, we amble through empty back alleyways. Then the film makes an abrupt transition from the sights and sounds of a cheerful dance in the streets to a close-up of a depiction of Christ accompanied by a sepulchral organ. Hiroshi dives right into the very soul of the deeply devout architect, lingering on a series of close-ups of gruesome religious artworks before finally showing us our first exterior shot of one of Gaudí's buildings.

The jarring contrasts in both image and sound place "Antonio Gaudí" firmly in the realm of what filmmaker Nathaniel Dorsky calls "devotional cinema." As Dorsky uses the term devotion doesn't refer directly to a religious experience but rather "it is the opening or the interruption that allows us to experience what is hidden." The cut between the rowdy dancers and the somber Christ figure is one of many such "devotional" moments in this film. Hiroshi's confident manipulation of time further emphasizes this sense of presence. Gaudí's buildings defy the concept of linear time. They exist in a modern Barcelona and were built over a century ago, yet they belong to neither era. Though Gaudí was influenced by the Art Nouveau movement of his time, his work was unique both then and now; Gaudí produced no "school" of architecture. He certainly had no influence whatsoever on 20th century architecture with its sleek lines and cool tones. Gaudí bears at least a passing resemblance to 16th century composer Carlo Gesualdo, who pioneered an experimental chromatic style that placed him at least three centuries ahead of his time (fortunately, Gaudí's personal life bore no resemblance to Gesualdo's.)

Hiroshi also escapes the trap that many architecture documentaries fall into. Though the camera lingers on many buildings and details, the film also opens up to show the people who live and move through the spaces designed by Gaudí. One of the film's best sequences takes place in the Park Güell, a bright airy space marked by Gaudí's colorful mosaics; today it serves as a common space used by thousands of Barcelonans. The film closes, like Gaudí's career, with the expansive Sagrada Familia chapel, the crowning achievement of Gaudí's career which remained unfinished for decades after his death.

Though labeled a documentary, "Antonio Gaudí" is more of a piece with other devotional films such as "The Passion of Joan or Arc," "La Notte," "Days of Heaven" or the avant-garde work of Stan Brakhage, Bruce Conner, and Jem Cohen. The latter comparison is no coincidence since Hiroshi and his artist father Sofu were deeply involved in the avant-garde community both in Japan and abroad.

"Antonio Gaudí" is such a beautiful film, it's almost a crime to watch it in a digitally compressed format, no matter how good the Criterion transfer might be. Dorsky also notes that one aspect of devotional cinema is the way that it's viewed, or rather was viewed in an era not so long ago: in the darkness of the theater/cave on a large illuminated screen. Today, viewed in a living room with the lights on, the phone ringing and a myriad of other familial and multi-media distractions, the devotional film loses some its transformative power. Of course, you can always put the kids to bed, unplug the phone and turn off the lights, but it's still not quite the same.

Still, "Antonio Gaudí" is potent enough to survive even this de-clawing. I'd love to see it in a theater with my fellow cave-dwellers, but the DVD release of this unique film about a unique artist is certainly better than none at all.

VIDEO

The film is presented in its original 1.33:1 full-screen aspect ratio. Like many recent Criterion full-screen releases, the image is pictureboxed meaning some viewers will see thin black bars on all sides of the picture. It's another great job by Criterion, perhaps not as utterly flawless as this month's release of "Mafioso" but not far off the mark. The image is particularly notable for the bright, saturated colors that are essentially to appreciate both the film and Gaudí's work. "Antonio Gaudí" was previously released by Image Entertainment in 1999. I do not have a copy of that release to compare it to, but I have heard few good things about it. I have little doubt that the Criterion release represents a major upgrade. It's hard to believe any other version could be superior.

AUDIO

The DVD is presented in Dolby Digital Mono. Optional English subtitles support the handful of lines of dialogue or narration which are in Spanish and Japanese.

EXTRAS

As far as I know, this is the first Asian documentary released by Criterion (not counting extras, that is). As if overcompensating for this long-term oversight, they have heaped on the offerings in this two-disc feast.

Disc One includes the restored film and a Theatrical Trailer.

Disc Two offers several superior extras.

The best of the bunch is "God's Architect" (59 min.), an installment of the British series "Visions of Space." This quirky feature doesn't hew to a standard television formula. Art critic Robert Hughes hosts this exploration of Barcelona by way of Gaudí with both an open admiration for the artist and an equally open skepticism for his pious lifestyle.

Another idiosyncratic artist, Ken Russell, also shows up with an episode (16 min) of the BBC series "Monitor" devoted to Gaudí's work. Russell isn't shy about offering his own strong opinions (surprise) but after watching the main film, it's hard to watch the same shots of Gaudí's buildings in black-and-white.

In a wonderful find, Criterion also presents silent 16-mm footage taken by Hiroshi and his father Sofu on their 1959 trip to Barcelona, the trip that planted the seed of "Antonio Gaudí" in then 32 year-old Hiroshi's mind. The basic blueprint of the 1984 film can be seen here 25 years earlier.

The disc also includes "Sculptures by Sofu – Vita" (17 min), a documentary by Hiroshi about the installation of a sculpture exhibition by his father Sofu at the Sogetsu Institute. It's similar in style to "Antonio Gaudí" and quite absorbing.

Finally, we get an interview (13 min.) with architect Arata Isozaki, best known in America for designing the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art (that's MOCA, not LACMA in case you are confused). Isozaki had previously collaborated with Hiroshi on "The Face of Another." The interview was recorded in 2006 for Criterion.

The 36-page insert booklet kicks off with an essay by Dore Ashton, and includes a conversation with Hiroshi as well as a 1959 interview with Hiroshi and Sofu.

FILM VALUE

Shame on me. I wrote the main body of the review without once mentioning the extraordinary soundtrack by composer Tôru Takemitsu, an otherwordly discordant mix of popular and classical styles that provides the perfect accompaniment to the rigorous camera work. Takemitsu (who died in 1996) was one of Japan's most accomplished film composers. He was a frequent collaborator with Hiroshi Teshigahara ("Woman in the Dunes," "The Face of Another") and also worked on landmark films such as Masaki Kobayashi's "Kwaidan" and Akira Kurosawa's "Ran." If I was even a halfway knowledgeable music critic, I'd write extensively about this great soundtrack, but it's best to leave such work to the experts. I'll simply say that I thought it was brilliant, and leave it at that.