Review of Museum Hours (2012) by Geoff H — 26 Nov 2013

"Museum Hours" is a difficult movie to put into words. Where "Blue Is the Warmest Color" and "The Past" are about faces, Jem Cohen's film is about voices, i.e. thoughts. ("Only God Forgives" is the only movie I can think of that's about hands.) It's also very expressionless, which means it'll be divisive and/or misconstrued. But it's such a rich experience, an essential work for anyone who cares about cinema, even if you don't end up liking it much at all. Yes, even if you end up feeling it's redundant and indulgent. Or, yes, unnecessary.

Writer-director Cohen isn't trying to come off as glib or pretentious, or to piss you off. He's not even trying to compare his film to the artistic masterworks on apparent and often elongated display. Like I'd imagine Alexander Sukorov's yet unseen by me "Russian Ark" to be, or if Sofia Coppola decided to make a drama in the manner of those set-abroad by Woody Allen, "Museum Hours" aims to fascinate by using philosophy, discussion of possible previous fashions of livelihood, and, above all, ideas, incorporating quiet importance in every constrained frame.

A key theme: art that's "timeless", while also carrying time with it. Another, even more mind-blowing: everyday existence as a landscape -- everything occurring concurrently; life happening alongside death; various points of view around an event as uneventful as an old woman traveling a short path before disappearing behind a large hedge. Sounds ridiculous, but you're swept up in the charm. I love movies you have to magnify and distinguish to remotely begin to understand, and like fellow narrative provocateur "Stories We Tell", "Museum Hours" seems to be about exactly that, albeit in a mystical, beautifully frustrating way.