What Now? Remind Me Screen 29 articles

What Now? Remind Me


What Now? Remind Me Poster
  • In some ways the length feels related to these circumstance, bringing out the endurance test aspects of the one-year drug trial, but ends up feeling oppressive and repetitive nonetheless.

  • Faced with the ultimate personal affliction – one’s own illness – Pinto transcends himself and conveys the richness of a lifetime spent working and loving, breathing and recording. His voice is choral; the stories it carries and recounts are collective, almost selfless. His flux of consciousness is anything but solipsistic; his lifespan matches, meets and interacts with the world he continued to inhabit passionately despite his disease.

  • Non-intellectual images straight from the heart — Nuno twitching in his sleep, illuminated only by the light of Pinto’s laptop, an unfakeable view of the Beloved One captured at his most vulnerable — punctuate other chains of intellectual association synthesize the personal and historical, even as sickness threatens to terminate the reverie.

  • What Now? is a long film, clocking in at two hours forty-five minutes. But Pinto’s primary work was a sound recordist for Raul Ruíz, João Cesár Monteiro, Robert Kramer and others. As such, he has an uncanny sensitivity to time and composition. As such, themes and motifs recur and interlace throughout the running time.

  • The film is lovely, moving, even revelatory, though it, at times, flirts with being overly long. Part of that patience-testing length, however, seems deliberate, as the theme of time itself becomes crucial, time both lost and regained through the illness, the treatments, and Pinto’s poetic response to both.

  • To represent the world – our world – Pinto draws a map made of multiple, overlapping itineraries, but he adds the dimension of time and memory, creating layers, depth. More akin to a spherical hologram, his cinematic space is made of curved lines, playfully brought together through the free-associative process of a video diary. For the spectator, it has the warm comfort of an embrace.

  • The most tragic aspect of What Now? is how, by the end, Pinto appears more resigned than when the film began: The doc starts as a mix of memoir, diary, and documentary, but by the end it has the distinct feeling of a last will and testimony.

  • Given the film's risks, its loose structure only feels more fitting. Watching the documentary isn't merely bearing witness to Pinto's bodily struggle, but observing him grasp for answers that often are beyond his — and all of our — reach. What now? Remind Me's twists and turns then allow us to become more entangled and lost in the questions that are raised, forcing us to look far beyond Pinto's story — and ourselves. What now, indeed.

  • Pinto’s triumphant return to filmmaking is a stream-of-consciousness diary film consumed with the maladies and vicissitudes endured by the human body in the twenty-first century.

  • In this intimate and finely wrought self-portrait, [Pinto] depicts his condition with incisive visual imagination and takes his current troubles as a springboard for free flights of memory... Revelling in the inspiration of Lana Turner and “Imitation of Life,” recalling the Portuguese revolution of 1974 and the cinematic flowering that followed, Pinto turns the pleasures of looking, thinking, remembering—and filming—into reasons for living.

  • Tender and raw, yet without melodrama, What Now? considers the intersections of existence through the body, and through history, in relation to and in art: “When we go back to dust, life will sigh with relief.”

  • A tightly woven tapestry of metaphorical images, enhanced by Pinto’s candid and bleakly droll commentary, What Now? Remind Me is first-person filmmaking that’s controlled, allusive, and digressive—a worthy recipient of the Special Jury Prize.

  • What Now? Remind Me, which is narrated by Pinto, rails against the inadequacies of modern healthcare systems while surprising with flashes of brilliant color and music, hinting that Joaquim and Nuno’s troubles are enlarging their spirits.

  • Pinto’s film is not an anthology. Nor a lamento. It is a road. A meditation in film that does not walk the straight line of time but goes back and forth, wanders and gets lost, anticipates the future and catches up with what has been missed. Images and sound seem to meditate along with the “storyteller,” someone at times despairing, at times amused, at times full of hopes.

  • Pinto positions his fragile humanness and body against a whole industry designed to care only about profits and not about its patients, and the result is a haunting story of what could happen to all of us should we be so unfortunate as to get sick.

  • Confessional but never solipsistic, constantly looking beyond individual experience toward history and the world, this profoundly moving film about living in the shadow of death becomes an all-encompassing meditation on what it means to be alive.

  • A compulsive music lover like none other in Portuguese cinema (except for Monteiro), Pinto finds a very sportive way to articulate all the elements of his film with reality, crossing past and present, sacred and profane, pleasure and pain, the epic and mundane gestures of life with such a natural grace that the film becomes an experience of pure gold.

  • On the surface, What Now? Remind Me seems easily susceptible to depressive navel-gazing. Pinto doesn't always avoid this trap; certain parts of the film, especially when the director mumbles sadly to a camera planted inches from his face, are almost awkwardly gloomy. But his tendency to defer from his own struggles to make way for touching appreciations of the beauty and enormity of the world around him simultaneously lightens the mood and deepens his inquiry.

  • E Agora? Lembra-me is a 165-minute mosaic in which no image is arbitrary or redundant or out of place: all are interwoven in a web of mutual connections. Over the course of the film, we become so deeply immersed in the author's musings that the camera now seems to capture the intellectual processes themselves––that is to say, we are made privy to the emergence of thoughts and ideas.

  • Documentary and personal essay are inadequate labels for this profound autobiographical opus by Portuguese filmmaker Joaquim Pinto; like Chris Marker'sSans Soleil (1983) or Jean-Luc Godard and Anne-Marie Miéville's Soft and Hard (1985), the film uses self-inquiry to divine what it means to be alive at this point in history... The artful compositions and dense sound design are ravishingly sensual, balancing out the narration's intellectual rigor.

  • it's a virtually undefinable work whose origins are rooted only in the maker's soul... The film's style is symbolic as it relates to Pinto's medical care; just as his treatment is empirical in nature, so, too, is the effusive manner in which he assembles the pseudo-narrative. The film's unresolved ending is a perfect metaphor for the conclusiveness of Pinto's aspirations.

  • Throughout [Pinto] favors hard cuts between disparate sequences in the film’s Boyhood-length running time, plus the odd psychologically motivated superimposition, and layers in a bountiful soundtrack of classical music with some key anthemic pop. Through to its fugue-like ending, it’s Pinto’s delirious vigil for himself, a confession of bodily and mental weakness that becomes a declaration of spiritual and philosophical resilience.

  • Gentle on the eyes but stirring to the mind, “What Now? Remind Me” is an extraordinary, almost indescribably personal reflection on life, love, suffering and impermanence... Sensual and serious, intimate and ineluctable, “What Now?” may take almost three hours to unspool, but you’ll barely notice. Whether watching a virus replicate under a microscope or a dragonfly wobble interminably on a blade of grass, this meditation on mortality conveys more than anything the joy of being alive.

  • It’s in these moments, when the film’s mode of address is closer to that of a discourse or a sermon than an autobiographical confession, that What Now? Remind Me most reveals a “preoccupation with bearing witness.” The substance of its testimony, as well as that ofThe New Testament of Jesus Christ According to John, is that plants, animals, and natural phenomena have something to tell us—a message to reveal, a Word to make incarnate, an inheritance to bestow—that can only be heard by careful listening and re-listening, which is to say, recording.

  • Joaquim Pinto’s What Now? Remind Me opens on a rapturous image of a slug slowly — slooowly — making its way across a rough patch of twigs. The shot primes you for the rest of the movie. It slows down your heartbeat, attunes you to tiny changes within the frame, and prepares you for the drama of nature. By the time some nondescript shadows start to dance over the slug, it’s as if an army has invaded.

  • Equally impressive is What Now? Remind Me, a sprawling account of one year in the life of Portuguese filmmaker Joaquim Pinto, as he continues his 20 year battle with HIV. While his body endures various stages of treatment, his mind flies freely through memories of the past and reflections of the world around him. Turning countless hours of footage into a lucid personal odyssey, this is filmmaking that’s as powerful as life itself.

  • What emerges is a multifaceted memoir, and a good reminder that essay can (and should) be a verb. Prescribed “a year of forced rest,” Pinto—a longtime producer and sound designer best known for his work with João César Monteiro, Manoel De Oliveira, and Raul Rúiz—goes on a trip around his own world, fixing his attention on everything from a bee crawling along the edge of a hamburger to rain gathering on a windshield, as though they were new and unfamiliar sights begging to be explored.

  • The result might be blandly labeled a “personal diary,” but such a signifier, as applied in today’s cinema, makes little room for the boundless curiosity and intellect, not to mention elegant aesthetic control, exhibited across What Now?’s broad length.

  • Pinto’s inventive, delicate, deeply moving What Now? Remind Me is part diary, part essay film and part survivor story. It’s a movie rich with lucidity, beautifully honest and potent observations and a stunning fragility that makes us hyperaware of the brittleness of the human body and the resilience of the mind and soul.

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