Audiences soak in 'Beaches'

    Enchanting trapeze artists on the beach, a crazy cartoon cat with a robotic voice, the protagonist dressed up as a talking potato — all whimsical moments which make up the patchwork account of Agnès Varda's life.
    Surreal events, such as a complete office staff relocated to work on a sandy beach, mix with old footage and jolt viewers out of their comfort zones. Varda lets her imagination and playfulness shine through in every scene, creating a visual biography that accurately reflects her nature.
    "The Beaches of Agnès" is not a strictly chronological story. More than a simple autobiographical documentary, it is a montage of memories and images, both historical and personal. A boat on a river from a bird's-eye view, first-person perspectives and shots from the ground looking up are just some of the complexities used in the movie that make it stunning and unpredictable.
    Agnès Varda is a renowned director who was part of the French New Wave, a movement that favored personal expression through film and long takes instead of many quick cuts. Her first film was "La Pointe-Courte" (1954), which she followed with what many call her most important film, "Cléo from 5 to 7" (1962). "The Gleaners and I" (2000) is a more recent film — a documentary about foraging, whether at flea markets, in fields or in trash bins.
    Varda's latest film begins with a windy day on a beach, as tilted mirrors reflect the waves and sand. Agnès plays herself, walking barefoot in the sand while directing the crew to set up the camera facing the ocean. Her fuchsia scarf blows in the wind, whipping across her face. The wavering mirrors are indicators of the feeling of the movie — a slightly disorienting view of reality.
    "Beaches of Agnès" incorporates history as well as personal details of Varda's life, giving every personal moment a historical context. Each decade has a different defining character for Varda — women's liberation, hippies and peace rallies, for example, characterize the sixties in America.
    The movie is in French with English subtitles. The few words in English are jarring, breaking up the flowing French. In one scene, a couple has a nasty fight all in English, with the language making the cutting words seem even harsher.
    The beautiful shots of the North Sea and later, the river beneath the Victoire and Tivoli Bridges, are continuous reminders of the importance of water and place. Varda says that she calls any man who looks out on the sea Ulysses, because he does not want to return home. Her enigmatic comments reveal a depth beyond her jokes and humor.    The vivid, saturated colors highlight the environment in which Varda lives. The background bursts out of the screen, and the film keeps the viewer's attention, waiting to see where Varda will go next.
    This movie cannot be watched in the same way as a regular American action movie or chick flick. The viewer has to take each scene independently, as most of them are connected by nothing but Varda herself. Even though this film takes more effort to follow and enjoy than a predictable romantic comedy, it is worth it.
    The movie becomes more emotional at the end, when Varda talks about the sickness and death of her husband, Jacques Demy, who died of AIDS at age 59. She films roses and begonias lolling on the floor in memory of her husband.
    The most powerful shots in the movie are the close-ups of her dying husband. Varda explains that she deals with his illness by filming. At first it is hard to tell that the snowy hair and sallow skin belong to Demy. In 1989, AIDS was shameful; he never talked about his illness to his family or friends.
    The fragmentation of the documentary corresponds with Varda's memory. She explains that her memory does not organize events by chronology; there is objective time, but also subjective time. Varda compares memory to "confused flies," which appear in a grotesque scene showing flies buzzing and crawling all over a nude woman.
    Reality is played with and distorted in this film. There are scenes in which four separate narratives happen in four squares on the screen; mirrors reflect the cameramen and sound equipment; and Varda's face is superimposed over a shot of a desolate beach.
    "If we opened me up, we'd find beaches," Varda says in the film.
    "Beaches" stretches out Varda's vibrant experiences and visions in a luscious montage of comic, tragic and surreal moments. All the tiny grains of sand — in this case, the moments making up one woman's life — grip the viewer from start to finish.