Jarman's "Blue," a feature consisting entirely of a blue screen with voice-overs, has succeeded in annoying viewers with its seemingly uninventive approach to the cinematic personal narative. As so much of what we have come to consider "good" filmaking relies primarily on our sense of sight and our ability to absorb and process hundreds of CGI critters flashing before our eyes, it is easy to forget that a "good film" relies as much if not more so on the story than it does on the visuals.
Jarman's story is one that does not need visuals to support it. Reflecting upon his life in the face of his rapidly approaching death, Jarman's memories and meditations offer the viewer (listener, really) a window into the soul of a director who is losing the most important sense he could posses: his sight. Blue was the last color available to him before AIDS related complications robbed him of his sight. As he stands before death and stares it straight in the face, Jarman's writings put forth a suprising feeling of calmness, as he has accepted his own finitude and shares his meditations with us in this, his last masterpiece.
Jarman's story is one that does not need visuals to support it. Reflecting upon his life in the face of his rapidly approaching death, Jarman's memories and meditations offer the viewer (listener, really) a window into the soul of a director who is losing the most important sense he could posses: his sight. Blue was the last color available to him before AIDS related complications robbed him of his sight. As he stands before death and stares it straight in the face, Jarman's writings put forth a suprising feeling of calmness, as he has accepted his own finitude and shares his meditations with us in this, his last masterpiece.