Limit (1931)
November 23, 2024 11:11 PM - Subscribe
Three castaways - a man and two women - adrift in the vast expanse of the ocean find solace in recounting the tales of their lives to one another, reminiscing about the circumstances that led them to their desolate predicament.
An astonishing creation, Limite is the only feature by the Brazilian director and author Mário Peixoto, made when he was just twenty-two years old. Inspired by a haunting André Kertész photograph on the cover of a French magazine, this avant-garde silent masterpiece centers on a man and two women lost at sea, their pasts unfolding through flashbacks propelled by the music of Erik Satie, Claude Debussy, Igor Stravinsky, and others. An early work of independent Latin American filmmaking, Limite was famously difficult to see for most of the twentieth century. It is a pioneering achievement that continues to captivate with its timeless visual poetry.
Fábio Andrade: Limite is both poetry and prose; a metaphor about the inexorability of the human condition as much as it is an experience of tactile memories, salty wind and sunburnt skin. The film reveals depth by adhering to the surface, finding common ground for Robert Flaherty’s direct approach (the near absence of makeup, the fraying costumes, the merciless glow of the sun) and Man Ray’s exploration of film as a flat canvas (of fabric, of sand, of newspaper headlines). The shots alternate between perspectives, using the camera as a polyphonic narrator: it can “see” as a character, as the wind, as the wheel of a train, creating a rhythmic experience that aspires to transcend physicality yet is always pulled back to the physical world, much like the stranded boat.
Kimberly Wadsworth: There’s very little action in the flashbacks, and practically none in the lifeboat; the characters seem to have mostly given up hope of rescue, and mostly just lean on the gunwales of the boat gazing at the horizon. I got excited when one of the women stood up and started flailing one of the oars in the water, but the other two characters just stared at her dumbly, and they weren’t going anywhere, and she finally gave up and sat down.
Sometimes we don’t even see that much. Much of the last five minutes is footage of churning waves and roaring surf. Periodically throughout the flashbacks we also get lingering shots of surf or wheat fields or landscapes or slowly-shutting doors. It wasn’t until my traditional post-screening Google surf that I finally learned what was supposed to be happening.
Fritzi Kramer: Peixoto and cinematographer Edgar Brasil make extensive use of a hand-held camera, which gives Limite a modern flavor, and it is used in a way that forced the audience to acknowledge their voyeurism. The camera becomes distracted and has to hurry to catch up with its subject. It peers around corners and from the tops of trees. However, and this is both significant and refreshing, Limite utterly lacks the male gaze. Because of this, women viewing the film can enjoy absorption equal to that of male viewers, which is a rare thing.
If I am vague about particulars, it’s because I feel that this movie is best experienced with as little foreknowledge as possible. Block out two hours of time, relax and let the film come to you. Experienced viewers of silent dramas will find it a particularly rewarding experience.
Trailer
An astonishing creation, Limite is the only feature by the Brazilian director and author Mário Peixoto, made when he was just twenty-two years old. Inspired by a haunting André Kertész photograph on the cover of a French magazine, this avant-garde silent masterpiece centers on a man and two women lost at sea, their pasts unfolding through flashbacks propelled by the music of Erik Satie, Claude Debussy, Igor Stravinsky, and others. An early work of independent Latin American filmmaking, Limite was famously difficult to see for most of the twentieth century. It is a pioneering achievement that continues to captivate with its timeless visual poetry.
Fábio Andrade: Limite is both poetry and prose; a metaphor about the inexorability of the human condition as much as it is an experience of tactile memories, salty wind and sunburnt skin. The film reveals depth by adhering to the surface, finding common ground for Robert Flaherty’s direct approach (the near absence of makeup, the fraying costumes, the merciless glow of the sun) and Man Ray’s exploration of film as a flat canvas (of fabric, of sand, of newspaper headlines). The shots alternate between perspectives, using the camera as a polyphonic narrator: it can “see” as a character, as the wind, as the wheel of a train, creating a rhythmic experience that aspires to transcend physicality yet is always pulled back to the physical world, much like the stranded boat.
Kimberly Wadsworth: There’s very little action in the flashbacks, and practically none in the lifeboat; the characters seem to have mostly given up hope of rescue, and mostly just lean on the gunwales of the boat gazing at the horizon. I got excited when one of the women stood up and started flailing one of the oars in the water, but the other two characters just stared at her dumbly, and they weren’t going anywhere, and she finally gave up and sat down.
Sometimes we don’t even see that much. Much of the last five minutes is footage of churning waves and roaring surf. Periodically throughout the flashbacks we also get lingering shots of surf or wheat fields or landscapes or slowly-shutting doors. It wasn’t until my traditional post-screening Google surf that I finally learned what was supposed to be happening.
Fritzi Kramer: Peixoto and cinematographer Edgar Brasil make extensive use of a hand-held camera, which gives Limite a modern flavor, and it is used in a way that forced the audience to acknowledge their voyeurism. The camera becomes distracted and has to hurry to catch up with its subject. It peers around corners and from the tops of trees. However, and this is both significant and refreshing, Limite utterly lacks the male gaze. Because of this, women viewing the film can enjoy absorption equal to that of male viewers, which is a rare thing.
If I am vague about particulars, it’s because I feel that this movie is best experienced with as little foreknowledge as possible. Block out two hours of time, relax and let the film come to you. Experienced viewers of silent dramas will find it a particularly rewarding experience.
Trailer
My favorite sentence out of the review for my blog:
"I spent two hours feeling like a stupid doof because I had no idea what the hell was going on."
posted by EmpressCallipygos at 5:49 AM on November 24 [1 favorite]
"I spent two hours feeling like a stupid doof because I had no idea what the hell was going on."
posted by EmpressCallipygos at 5:49 AM on November 24 [1 favorite]
Would you recommend watching it after googling to learn what was going on?
posted by trig at 6:07 AM on November 24
posted by trig at 6:07 AM on November 24
It was such a good line!
And I would say it depends, honestly knowing what it supposed to be happening didn't make it clear to me what I was seeing. It's beautiful but the actual plot, such as it is, very much is in the back seat.
posted by Carillon at 11:54 AM on November 24
And I would say it depends, honestly knowing what it supposed to be happening didn't make it clear to me what I was seeing. It's beautiful but the actual plot, such as it is, very much is in the back seat.
posted by Carillon at 11:54 AM on November 24
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posted by Carillon at 11:12 PM on November 23 [1 favorite]