Eternity and A Day (1998, Theo Angelopoulos)

Everytime I get to introduce my cinematic psyche to a director's work, there's always a keen sense of scepticism lurking in my subconscious mind, no matter how good it turns out to be in the end.

However, there are certain films, which establishes the esteemed supremacy of it's greatness right from the first frame. Eternity and A Day nails it to the teeth.

With a zero conception about Theo Angelopoulos' filmmaking persona, my mind was prone to various ranges of criticism and reception. But the immense calmness and tranquility the film purposely possesses in the garb of surrealism and a tale of friendship and trust during the time of unlikely cataclysm is an applauding specimen of attempting and creating the magnificent form of poetry in motion.

The film tries to juggle multiple consequences at once, or to put it in a more metaphorical way, juxtaposition and synchronisation of chalk and cheese. And the aftertaste gives you best of both worlds, blessing the nothingness in it.

It amazes me to perceive how supremely talented of a person can be, until one witnesses the unthinkable versatility of Bruno Ganz. Honestly, it's hard to fathom the best performance of an actor, who has delivered a consistent graph of exponentially increasing dynamics in the realm of thespianism. Needless to mention, the otherworldly beautiful soundtrack fabricated so intimately in between the montages, excessively evoking the hormones of passion in your bloodstream.

At times, though the film gives away too many déjà vu moments of being laced with the melacholic serenity of Wim Wenders alongwith the hopeless romanticism of Wong Kar-Wai, with the former dominating the latter (and that's a major compliment), the film triumphs at it's own charismatic effervescence of portraying human emotions immaculately at the end of the day, in eternity.