A few weeks ago I watched Amores Perros, a film directed by Alejandro Inarritu. His works put me in the mind of Zadie Smith, the little I have read of her work. Their stuff has the flavour of shimmering tightly-woven tapestries, with each vignette that makes up their stories part of a grander puzzle that one has to step way back to fully experience, not that seeing, feeling even, each bit cut is any less satisfying or completing.
Still, each fraction of the whole can stand on its own, nuanced, complex and visceral. The Revenant, which was not his own writing, seems like one large blanket that covers your mind and your heart but has the same searing quality as his other art, which are is more like a quilt than one large piece of fabric. All in all, beautiful intricacy is the overriding theme.
I almost wish his movies were books first, written with the same painstaking attention to detail. I would love to read them! If his visual descriptions are anything to go by, I cannot fathom how wonderful the mental imagery one might conjure up could be. But, one could argue that all this is true of all great artists, writers, directors, painters, sculptors, architects, programmers.
Their work is not merely work or theirs. It, the work, thrusts you into a vortex of emotion, awe, ideas, dreams and other soul and brain landscapes. Beautiful pieces unravel slices of our individual and collective universes, almost like stripping a rainbow into its thousands of unique yet not quite so special colours.