Sans Soleil
Easily described in a single sentence - a post-modern Mondo Cane - Sans Soleil is a travelogue without tense, a pictorial without obvious purpose. When taken out of its creative context, when viewed in terms of its tri-fold subjective approach (Africa, Japan, and Hitchcock's Vertigo) it appears to be nothing more than pretty pictures juxtaposed with some sobering text (read by an off screen female narrator). Observational in the most literal sense of the word, the visual and prose components gel to form a singular, subjective world view, a meditation on everything that makes cultures unique, heritage importance, and human beings so engaging. Marker is not dissuaded from using controversial or horrific images or ideas. During the course of Sans Soleil we are witness to a gory giraffe killing (complete with vulture aftermath), a condemnation of the Japanese system of censorship (where the blurring out of the pubis actually increases titillation), and a weird recreation of the Kama Sutra with sexually explicit images of copulating monkeys. As with the shocking images Franco Prosperi and Gualtiero Jacopetti used to highlight the foibles and flaws in the universal condition, Marker is making a statement about the illusion of illustration, and how what we see is not always the purpose behind a picture. There are layers to life, and within each photograph or representation of same passes a thousand equally important interpretations. None are right. All are wrong. And visa versa.

This can all get very heady, especially when our guide goes overboard with the scholarly spiel. For example, the camera catches a commando raid, African guerillas fighting for freedom from the oppression and anger they feel. But instead of focusing on said struggle, the dialogue de-evolves into a perplexing personal problem, the writer feeling sorry for ever using this type of armed forces terminology to describe his own artistic efforts. Similarly, we are witness to a pre-coup military ceremony where the soon to be deposed leader bestows medals on the very men who will unseat him in office. It's a startling sequence, but the narration tends to temper the impact, going overboard into the metaphysical meaning of such a karmic coincidence. Part of the problem with Sans Soleil, one that falls completely out of what Marker was trying to achieve 25 years ago, is the notion of globalization. The Mondo movies became infamous for opening up otherwise closed off cultures to the rest of the world. Similarly, this film is still fascinated with the unusual aspects of Japan, things we now take for granted (pop culture reinvention, religious micromanagement). The ready availability of information in 2007 more or less dampens the impact of his discoveries. The Africa material is more enlightening, but takes a clear backseat to the Asian angle. We may be smarter than Marker was at the time of Sans Soleil's creation, but his is a very dense expressionist dynamic. In that regard, he remains several steps ahead of his audience.

Indeed, it's apropos to state that Marker is a moviemaker that found time finally catching up with his previously unstuck epics. It's easy to see why both La Jetée and Sans Soleil were confounding upon their initial release. There was nothing else like them in the current cultural conversation. The Mondo movies had made their mark, but after their initial splash, satellite news and world broadcasts replaced their border-evaporating entertainment. So when Marker made his cinematic comment, he was doing so out of an old dynamic that now seemed more foreign than ever. Similarly, there were interesting mainstream examples of science fiction cinema long before this director decided to explore the genre's particulars. But La Jetée was the first film to try and craft the fantastical out of the facile and plain. There's no Metropolis like vistas or Forbidden Planet style designs. Instead, Marker made ideas more important than images, taking the format as far away from its 'moving' picture base as possible without ever denying the medium's meaning. There will be a few fans who can't fathom the importance that either film maintains - not as part of the cinematic categories they represent, or as part of the grand scheme of film overall. But if you look beyond what Marker is doing and, like jazz, recognize what he's NOT relying on, the brilliance begins to shine through. La Jetée and Sans Soleil definitely deserve their particular praise. They may not mean much to the modern movie maven, unfortunately.

The Video:
Typical of the care and consideration Criterion gives to every release, La Jetée/ Sans Soleil both look stunning in their 1.66:1 anamorphic widescreen transfers. The pale, graying monochrome used in the first film truly helps provide a feeling of disquieting temporal distance. Equally evocative are the crazy quilt colors of Sans Soleil's gonzo globe trotting. The details are clear and concise (sometimes, unsettlingly so) and the 'borrowing' of other material from like minded moviemakers (Marker admits to such stock footage foundations) meshes perfectly with the director's designs. Some may feel the images are a little unexceptional, lacking the visual vibrancy of a typical DVD release, but given their format, and their rarity, La Jetée/Sans Soleil look very good indeed.

The Audio:
On the sound side, we are given the opportunity to hear the original French versions of both films, as well as the perfectly acceptable English dub tracks created for international release. The subtitles accompanying the foreign language edition are excellent, easy to read and readily understandable. They capture the ideas and emotions prevalent in each offering. For those aggressive audiophiles out there, the Dolby Digital Mono mixes are nothing exceptional, but then again, they are not overmodulated or distorted. They do the sonic job they are meant to, and that's all that matters.

The Extras:
Originally announced as a much larger two disc package (including commentaries and other added context), Criterion has since shrunk down their presentation of these two films. But this does not mean that there's a dearth of information. Indeed, there is some amazing material here, all used to clarify just who Marker is, and why he's considered so influential. While the filmmaker himself is missing from the discussion, we do hear from noted French auteur Jean-Pierre Gorin. Both a critic and a colleague of Marker's, as well as a collaborator of Jean-Luc Godard's, he covers a great many subjects, including the director's particular connection to other artforms and his continuing fascination with mathematics. There is also a video piece by filmmaker Chris Darke about Marker, as well as two pieces from French television. One centers on the obvious influence of La Jetée on David Bowie and his video "Jump They Say". The other is a discussion of Vertigo and its lingering impact on Marker and his movies. Together with a monumental booklet featuring essays and interviews, we begin to peel back the layers on this artist's formidable achievements. They add the background we require to fix his final place in the motion picture hierarchy.