In the City of Sylvia (En la Ciudad de Sylvie)
If you’ve ever revelled in the luxury of people-watching on a lazy afternoon, al fresco, at a café in a small old town, sedated by the warmth of the sun, in a meditative state of utter relaxation and alertness, experiencing a heightened awareness of the sights and sounds around you, yet retaining a certain, peaceful distance from it, you will, most likely, enjoy En la Ciudad de Sylvie (In the City of Sylvia).
The film opens with a young artist sitting in a room, deep in thought. For longer than would be considered normal for most films. But this is unlike most films. The scene sets the pace of the film quite appropriately, as it’s predominantly a contemplative piece.
Our artist heads off to a local café, takes out his sketch pad, and watches. Mostly women. He sketches idly, and as the wind flips through the pages of his sketchbook, we see various jottings: the charcoal scrawls of words and ideas that have passed in and out of his mind, and sketches of the women around him.
We think he’s looking for inspiration, but perhaps he’s searching for his muse. For when he sees a familiar woman, he pursues her, as she walks through the small, cobblestone streets of the town. Again, for longer than would be considered normal in most films, to the point that it’s hard to know whether it’s indecent, or poetic. Eventually, he calls to her: “Sylvie!”.
Who is Sylvie? Is it she who has brought the artist to this town? We don’t get all the answers, but then this film is about immersing yourself in the experience. It dispenses with traditional story arches, and challenges us to stay in the moment.
Filmed in Strasbourg, it’s a beautiful piece. The wind, tossing about the pages of the artist’s sketchbook, and tousling the hair of the women in the town, is almost like a character in the film. As are the sounds: the distant murmurs of people moving about, the occasional rumble of a car engine or tram, or the clip-clop of the shoes of passers-by on the concrete. The dialogue is sparse, much of it unnecessary. In fact, the film may have been adequate as a short of around twenty minutes’ duration.
But perhaps that would be akin to taking a pair of scissors to a sumptuous dress with a rather long train. Sometimes, beauty warrants the excesses used to create it.