Jay Rohr
Chronovisor reminds a viewer that the most intriguing art does not aspire to have the largest audience. Yet, this sui generis piece of cinema, like its influences, seems “compiled in order to explain and account for all human emotion and thought.” It is the inkblot as much as the myriad images individuals envision in such abstract splatters. At its simplest, though, the movie is a sci-fi thriller of ambitious caliber, at least as far as what it demands of an audience.
Béatrice Courte (Anne-Laure Sellier) is a respected academic researching a monograph on historical theories regarding memory. Her exploration inadvertently leads to the discovery of a Benedictine monk who claimed to have developed a device capable of capturing sights and sounds from the past. It isn’t long before she disappears into the weeds, devouring every possible bit of information about the occult contraption.
Most of the movie unfolds in a curious combination of what feels like full on fiction and a 16mm reenactment of events in a documentary. This is due to the film’s persistent impression of observing Béatrice in a simultaneously fictional as well as real sense. Often, it’s like Chronovisor is taking the viewer along as an unseen participant in her inquiries rather than an idle observer.
Much of this is achieved by the way the narrative unfolds. The story is a blend of source materials. Articles and selected passages appear with highlighted text to emphasis or translate as necessary the most important portions. The film takes on an almost epistolary quality in such sections, closer to a novel than cinema. Other portions involve observing video recordings, microfilm, or listening to cassette tapes. All the while, Béatrice is on hand taking quiet notes with zero dialogue.
Still, those scenes are highly informative in wonderfully subtle ways. Chronovisor respects its audience enough not to handhold, never making things plain by having its main character lay things out in a monologue or clunky dialogue. For example, the fact that several texts are in a variety of languages provides the obvious inference Béatrice is a skilled polyglot. The way viewers are shown her late-night research habits, often returning to work immediately after drinks with friends, indicates a devoted, perhaps increasingly obsessive quality to her work.
One could argue directors Jack Auen and Kevin Walker are exploring multiple themes in Chronovisor simply because of their choice of presentation. The film is a journey through text to more modern methods of documentation; the capturing of ideas on paper, vinyl, cassette, and video tape. At the same time, there is the classic historians’ dilemma of how to prove the past in concrete terms as well as keeping in sight that the past was populated by the living. And this is before getting into the complex quagmire of faith, theology, and what compels people to understand humanity.
Then there is the subtle majesty of archives. So many of the libraries used as locations are shot in such a way as to show the gothic undertones of the coziest book barn. Even Béatrice’s apartment is similarly safe yet sinister depending on the lighting, sounds, and all-around atmosphere molding a scene’s mood.
Anne-Laure Sellier really sells the character. Not exactly coming from a theatrical background, she’s the Cartier-Chaired Professor of Behavioral Sciences at HEC Paris. Her current research orbits time perception, creativity, and cognitive biases. As such, there’s a natural authenticity to her as an academic, especially when it comes to delivering lines full of multilingual moments, switching from one language to another fluidly, in addition to her execution of esoteric vocabulary. There’s never a sense this isn’t a learned individual slipping down the rabbit hole.
Adding a peculiar element to the mix is that the titular device is a legitimate urban legend of sorts. Many of the source materials featured are actual magazines and books regarding the alleged existence of the Chronovisor. This gives the movie a further bizarre layer of authenticity. As such, it straddles the line between fact and fiction, not because the mechanism may be real so much as there is a truth in the search for it.
Consequently, I have little doubt Chronovisor will join the ranks of cult films poured over by obsessive viewers anxious to dissect it for every possible insight. Several times, though not nearly as linguistically skilled as Anne-Laure Sellier, I tried to read more than the translated portions whenever I could decipher passages. Few films can boast that they equally allow the audience to participate so fully in the unfolding mystery. Anyone able to get caught up in the inquiry will be thrilled by every new clue and disconcerting twist.
That said, I sincerely doubt Chronovisor will find a large audience. In an era dominated by fifteen-second videos and comic book cacophonies, a purposefully slow paced methodical avant-garde thriller, closer to reading a book than watching a movie, isn’t likely to appeal to the mainstream. The only upside is the guarantee that those at a theater are there to watch the film rather than their phones. And make no mistake, the picture demands constant attention. It doesn’t exactly wait to turn the page.
For those willing to engage with the movie on its terms, this is a hypnotic journey into the hypocrisy of history — the truth all seek selfishly and which many hide when it doesn’t meet their worldview. Besides a unique presentation, Chronovisor boasts a bizarre conclusion that will likely leave viewers speculating as to its implications for hours afterward. Jack Auen and Kevin Walker have produced something marvelously niche, a film that shows how suspenseful research can be.
