The festival will programme a special session to commemorate the recent death of the godmother of the Navarra event, daughter of Jean Vigo, the filmmaker who inspired its creation.
The eleventh edition of Punto de Vista will kick off on 6th March with the sad news of the recent death of Luce Vigo in the retina. The daughter of the great filmmaker Jean Vigo, who gave the festival its name based on his concept of the “documented point of view”, has been the godmother of Punto de Vista since its birth in 2005. The news has been received with much sorrow by the festival in a week in which Luce Vigo continued active, working with the Navarra festival from Paris. Ana Herrera, the current Minister for Culture of Navarra and executive director of Punto de Vista until two editions ago, remembers her “as a strong, resilient, affectionate and loyal person; who gave us her friendship and support from the very first edition and gave us the best gift of all”.
In memory of her, the festival will devote the eleventh edition to Luce Vigo and will programme a tribute session with two films: L´Atalante, the legendary film by Jean Vigo and Crossing Paths with Luce Vigo, a portrait filmed by Jem Cohen during one of Luce’s visits to Pamplona.
Tribute to Luce Vigo, Thursday 9th March 5pm
As a prelude to this tribute to Luce Vigo, “the guardian angel of Punto de Vista”, to quote Jean-Pierre Rehm, we present this gem that unites two of the most illustrious visitors: Luce Vigo and Jem Cohen. Perhaps what can be highlighted is something that is not usually mentioned in the synopsis: kind-heartedness. It must be mentioned because it is transmitted in the final result and it is doubly noticed when he who is making the portrait and the portrayed look at each other from the heart. One looks, the other speaks. The French visitor walks through her house. The visitor from New York follows her almost arm in arm. In the middle, Ana Herrera, Executive Director of our festival at that time, leads the discussion in this conversational film recorded in the hills of Pamplona. It starts to rain, time to put on a hood, Luce tells us about her childhood, her father and film… the bench where she sits will always be the Luce Vigo bench.
It is the chronicle of a man before an empty bed, the most famous film scene before some recently abandoned sheets, a frustrated honeymoon aboard a barge that is as full of cats as it is of dreams. It is one of the best boat movies of all time; the twelfth best film according to Sight&Sound; a posthumous film by a premature, daring and committed filmmaker. It is a collage of kisses that roll around on the floor, a milonga devoted to a disagreement, an essay on slovenliness on a never-ending river. It is the tune of an accordion that sings to eyes the colour of the weather, a film that is submerged to capture a nameless dance under the water, the song to the dumbness of a man who runs towards a horizon that moves away. It is the best tribute to the daughter of an unrepeatable filmmaker, the memory of her time on our table, her eternal smile in one of our squares. It is L´Atalante.