Directed by novelist-turned-filmmaker Alain Robbe-Grillet, The Immortal is a film that very much belongs to the realm of heady European art-cinema, the type popularized by directors such as Alain Resnais and Ingmar Bergman. All the tropes are here: a fractured narrative, beautiful black and white cinematography, a sexy female lead, plenty of brooding, and a plot that does not make much, if any, sense. The Immortal is ostensibly about a Frenchman who moves to Turkey, and meets a beautiful, but mysterious woman with whom he has sex with, only for her to abruptly disappear and reappear. In the background are other figures that float in and out of the picture ranging from a silent, grungy child to a sinister man with dogs to a salesman with odd eyes sitting outside of a mosque. One really has to ask, though, would this film be worth watching if it were not for the intoxicatingly beautiful Francoise Brion who plays the female lead? The cinematography certainly is luscious, and the new restoration is absolutely marvelous, and the central mystery is intriguing, engaging, and frustrating, but what does it all add up to? Or, in layman's terms, is there a point? Personally, I could not be certain that Robbe-Grillet was not screwing with me, but at least if he were, he did so with style. Of note is the impressive sound design. The Turkey of Robbe-Grillet is one of disembodied voices, dogs barking, and calls to prayer that reverberate through an empty echo chamber. Perhaps my problem with the film is that it seemed devoid of any genuine emotion; it is all intellect, but no heart. Intellect can be heartfelt, I have been moved to tears by Resnais' films, because he recognizes that matters of the mind and matters of the soul are ultimately one and the same. Robbe-Grillet either does not recognize this, or just does not care.
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