Holy Time in Eternity, Holy Eternity in Time

Black screen during the prologue: a voice, that of a man, talks about himself. The story, at first individual, develops, continues by digressions in a monologue embracing in its stream a mythology centered on being Black today in the U.S.A. The words enter into dialogue, alternating, schizophrenic, from the "you" written on a title card on the screen to the "I" expressed by the voice-over. Elise Florenty and Marcel Türkowsky make explicit at the beginning of the film what their project will be: from oneself to the other, it's a matter here of passages and exchanges, of porosities between spoken word and active listening, of faces and places. Second sequence. We are somewhere in the South, nourished by the world of Faulkner (evoked in the credits), not far from the regions of the imaginary county of Yoknapatawpha (North Mississippi), where most of Faulkner's novels take place. It would be fruitless to try to reconstruct such a story here. The film sweeps us along in a flood of physical feelings, of strange landscapes and the sequences fit together, distributing apparitions and disappearances according to an organic mode, in a perpetual dissolve. All the images, all the sounds prove to be haunted, by history, by nature, by literature too. It is the fabric of a fluidity where imaginary and real cannot be distinguished, in sight of an ode to the world as the title indicates, borrowed from Allen Ginsberg's poem "Footnote to Howl." (Jean-Pierre Rehm/ FIDMarseille/2011)