Chiaroscuro (1963)

Directed by: George Sluizer | 15 minutes | short movie

It would be a shame to say that the opening titles are the most interesting of ‘Chiaroscuro’, but there is a grain of truth in it. In any case, the expectations aroused in this somewhat insignificant but still entertaining short film by George Sluizer are not completely fulfilled.

The film starts very rhythmically and dynamically, with flickering words, stimulating sound, a close-up of a moving train and nice jazzy music by Hans Kox. The title Chiaroscuro is also quite promising. It naturally evokes associations with this artistic technique. But the film itself has little to do with this in a literal sense; or the title should refer to the typical black and white spotted Dutch cows that are often seen. The title can be explained in terms of content – ​​it goes from blissful to dramatic – but the viewer will not feel much involvement with the story. In the end, it seems to have been little more than a finger exercise for Sluizer, who does use some striking jump cuts and some fun, disorienting shots. But all in all it has little to offer, especially for the current viewer.

For those who want to know: in the film we follow a man – probably a tourist – who walks through a Dutch polder and is completely happy with the environment, the clear weather, a ladybug, and the cows around him. It seems to be his hobby to record ambient sounds. For this he uses a large microphone that is connected to a recorder that he has around his neck. In the beginning of the film, he especially enjoys it. He lets the ladybug run over his hand, lies down in the grass, looks at the sky. When he turns his head, the screen also turns. Mildly amusing, but not much more than that.

Then the weather turns, the water rises around him (sometimes forcing him to jump over a ditch), and to make matters worse, a cow falls into the water. The man tries to pull the cow (by its horns) out of the ditch, but is unsuccessful. He makes some more attempts during the film, walking around, calling passers-by further up the dike (by bicycle) to their aid, but no one hears him. He is like a voice crying in the desert… polder.

The film ends with an anticlimax and with no ‘solution’ of the problem. We mostly watched a nervous, running man who occasionally tried to help a cow and make contact. A man who at first was completely one with the fine Dutch landscape, and then encountered only hostility. Whether this should say something about the often bleak weather with us, the unsympathetic Dutch who don’t help anyone, or whether Sluizer just wanted a coat rack to link his images of the Dutch landscape to again, we don’t know for sure ( but it may well be the latter). In any case, it doesn’t make much of an impression.

What remains is a film with a few nice technical elements, such as quick turn (‘pan’) shots and cuts where the man in the next shot suddenly seems to be looking at himself. There are also suddenly a few photos of the man stretching out his arms, after which the moving images take over again. Also the quick cuts from a close-up (from a foot half in the ditch) to a shot from a distance are quite unexpected and keep it visually interesting. A bit ‘nouvelle vague’-ish, which you might expect based on the opening titles. Finally, the music – with its running bass and prominent clarinet – ensures that the viewer (and listener) does not lose their attention. It still makes ‘Clair-obscur’ a – perhaps undeservedly – ​​swinging experience.