Visions of Death in La Chimera
Postcards from London #2
(contains mild spoilers for the film La Chimera)
Dear friend,
How do you know what you are seeing?
I went to see Alice Rohrwacher’s film La Chimera at the BFI in Southbank a few weeks ago. Sometimes when I go to the cinema alone I find the exiting of the theatre and the re-entry into the Real World very eerie, surreal. I was walking along Waterloo bridge after this screening on an unbelievably cold day in spring, when suddenly my vision split in two. In one sense, I was seeing the swarming streets, below me the writhing water of the Thames and above me the oppressive grey clouds teasing rain. Simultaneously, I was seeing St Paul’s Cathedral crumbling and entangled in ivy, the Big Ben and House of Parliament sinking into the riverbank and becoming a new home for seals. It was more than a bit terrifying.
Josh O’Connor’s Arthur acts as a bridge between the living and dead in his work as a tomb-raider, but also as an island in his refusal to fully accept his position in one or the other. I felt this residence in liminality as I was walking, witnessing the death of London in real time; or rather, its transformation into the Etruscan tombs of La Chimera. I have always assumed that I fear the unknown, but as I grow older I find that it is precisely the known that frightens me; the simple truth that we will all die. You could argue that Arthur’s disregard for the sanctity of death is precisely why it chokes his ability to live; perhaps the rituals of tomb-making, grieving and memory-preserving are more for the living than the dead.
Rohrwacher recounts her experiences at the Park of Monsters in Bomarzo as a child, where she encounters a tilted house. Everything inside is beautiful - “you go in, there’s a little fireplace, there’s a table.” But when you leave, what was once simple reality is distorted by the tilt. Rohrwacher says that “this is something that I try to do in my filmmaking, to give you something that is very real, like that little house but a little askew, because it opens up your vision … this is a trick, to find something that is very close to reality, but a little bit inclined, and find something in this reality that is pure.”
This idea, both simple yet playful, grounded yet aspirational, says everything you need to know about the beauty of La Chimera. As sombre as some of its material is, the film is tenderly hopeful, and its humanity surprisingly warm. What I am trying to say in all my meandering is this: I liked this film, it made me feel things and see the same things in a new light, and dear friend, I think you might like to watch it.
Wishing you a day of sun (no matter which hemisphere you’re in), with light filtering through green leaves and giving you a little peck on the cheek. I asked the sun to give one on my behalf. Take care.
Lots of love,
Vee
P.S. If you would like to read more of Rohrwacher’s lyrical voice on artmaking, read the full interview that I quoted from here. It is simply divine.