It's not much of a stretch when a film features a succession of loudly ticking clocks that the film will be about the last day of a dying man and not about Frank Miller coming into town on the noon train for a showdown with Gary Cooper. So it will be not giving away too much to reveal that in Carlos Sorin's The Window a sick and feeble old man will die at the film's end and that the movie will be liberally peppered with death images -- the clocks, a shuttered window through which rays of bright light seep through, dream images from 80 years ago. But the elegance of Sorin's Patagonian take on Wild Strawberries is in what Sorin does with these unsurprising images. In The Window these images are not heavy and portentous, but play as a background soundtrack to the sensory impressions and ambiance within the confined spaces of a man's last day on earth. Sorin's plotless film deals with the light and not the shadows, and with an airy leisure and humor that belies the melancholy and foretold destiny of a dying old man.
Uruguayan writer Antonio Lorreta (in a performance of quiet strength and dignity) plays the elderly Don Antonio, flat on his back and all alone except for a couple of hardworking housekeepers and a driver. Don Antonio lives in a large country house far away from the city and must have lorded it over his help in times of health -- although the man is almost helpless now. Sorin indicates what he must have been before by revealing the old man having hidden a key to the liquor pantry in his pocket, claiming his money has been stolen from his book, and exhorting the housekeeper to water his vegetable garden.
Continue reading: The Window Review