Bresson's finest work is the result of completely giving up, even the chance at freedom -- because freedom, as the donkey and the girl might have known, is an illusion of joyousness. We see a movie about suffering, of giving in to suffering because to fight it would make you as wrong as the people who are perpetrating the suffering.
Au Hasard, Balthazar is an inspiring reassurance of the existence of God by the lack of even the slightest miracle or good fortune. What is not seen, the saving grace, is made more real and believable in its absence. (This is what the real essence of the Catholic church once was {when it accurately recreated Christ's gift}and what illuminates Robert Bresson's personal spiritual path in the otherwise deeply perverted church of today).
The story, that of a donkey's life, is, on the surface, absurd. But what Bresson can bring to it through the patient austerity of his camera work, the martyr like surrender of his characters (including the donkey Balthazar), is as transcendent and enlightening as a private epiphany. What is amazing is that he is able to project so much depth into an audience so unsuspecting.
Finally, and perhaps what makes this film and all of Bresson's work so illuminating is that he had an unrelentingly objective film sensibility quite like that of Luis Bunuel. And because Bunuel was clearly an atheist, the fact that Bresson would be as naked as Bunuel and still move us is the proof that there was something to his faith.
Au Hasard, Balthazar is an inspiring reassurance of the existence of God by the lack of even the slightest miracle or good fortune. What is not seen, the saving grace, is made more real and believable in its absence. (This is what the real essence of the Catholic church once was {when it accurately recreated Christ's gift}and what illuminates Robert Bresson's personal spiritual path in the otherwise deeply perverted church of today).
The story, that of a donkey's life, is, on the surface, absurd. But what Bresson can bring to it through the patient austerity of his camera work, the martyr like surrender of his characters (including the donkey Balthazar), is as transcendent and enlightening as a private epiphany. What is amazing is that he is able to project so much depth into an audience so unsuspecting.
Finally, and perhaps what makes this film and all of Bresson's work so illuminating is that he had an unrelentingly objective film sensibility quite like that of Luis Bunuel. And because Bunuel was clearly an atheist, the fact that Bresson would be as naked as Bunuel and still move us is the proof that there was something to his faith.