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Sunlight of the Fig Tree

Sunlight of the Fig Tree

Drama, Documentary, Biography

Victor Erice

Antonio López García, María Moreno, Enrique Gran, María López, Carmen López, Elisa Ruiz, José Carretero, Amalia Avia, Lucio Muñoz, Esperanza Parada, Julio López Hernández, Fan Xiao Ming, Yan Sheng Dong, Janusz Pietrzkiak, Marek Domagala, Grzegorz Ponikmia

1992

Spain

Film review analysis↗

Completed

Spanish

133 minutes

2025-02-20 03:58:47

Detailed introduction

This film (drama)Also known asEl sol del membrillo,is aSpainProducerwomen sex,At1992Released in year 。The dialogue language isSpanish,Current Douban rating8.6(For reference only)。
"Sunlight of the Fig Tree," also known as "Dream of Light," is a subtle work by Spanish director Victor Erice from 1992, which received the Jury Prize at Cannes that year. In "The Time of the Old," Victor Erice contributed one of the most enchanting short films; he is the kind of director who can make time pause within his films, which is why I have always held a deep interest in him. Then I watched "Sunlight of the Fig Tree." The film tells, or rather reproduces and participates in, the process of a painter—Antonio Lopez creating a new work. His subject is a fig tree full of fruit. A tree, a person, a piece of work; the entire film explores this relationship. They are interdependent, yet each has its own life, and in this film, they come together. The director employs two basic techniques: fixed shots and overlapping. For instance, when the painter walks into the house, selects a wooden board, and sets up his easel. This series of actions is mainly captured with fixed shots from a specific angle (essentially a standard shot), then overlapped at the same angle to condense and compress time. This technique runs throughout the film; we later see, for example, the wide shots taken in the backyard that include the fig tree and the easel, all contained within the same frame through autumn, winter, and spring. In these shots, you will see the "time left on film" by the director. This method is not difficult to execute, but it requires patience—a great deal of patience. In addition, the director has another method of capturing time: meticulously observing the artist's creative process with the camera. From the moment he picks up the easel in the backyard, determines the distance to the fig tree, nails down the placement of his feet, and marks the fruit with a brush—this series of detailed, methodical close-ups captures every action and look. This doesn’t seem difficult either, as long as you are detailed and composed enough. The beginning of the creative process is always full of passion, and the start of the film seems to brim with vitality. The painter hums a tune softly, happily mixes colors, and you can hear the brush swishing on the canvas, the wind rustling the treetops. Workers renovate the house, news comes from the radio, a train passes through the fields, and the sun peeks through the clouds. This entire sequence of materials is presented with a remarkably natural demeanor in Victor Erice's film. It simply conveys one thing: life. The subsequent segments of the film depict a long, even somewhat tedious creative process; days pass, and the leaves and fruits on the canvas slowly increase. The painter chats with family, converses with friends, painting while they talk, often for more than ten minutes at a time. The camera completely records these casual chats, with lighting appearing somewhat "rough," almost as if captured on DV. There are only those two angles, cutting back and forth. Time in these snippets is elongated and magnified; the audience senses the subtlety and also the tedium. The director immerses you in the process of the birth of an artwork. As I watched, I truly felt I was viewing a documentary; the characters and events seemed so natural under the director's patience and detail. Everything grows in its own rhythm, methodically, including the work on the canvas and the quietly observing camera. In October in Madrid, the light is unpredictable, and the painter can never find his favorite sunlight illuminating the fig tree. Then come grey days and heavy rain, and after days of back-and-forth, the painter decides to abandon the half-finished oil painting. He starts anew with a sketch, liberated from the constraints of weather. I will no longer recount the film's content; it is akin to discussing one's life, filled with trivial fragments. "Sunlight of the Fig Tree" showcases a creative process—a timeline, while also being spatial. It involves the interaction between an artist and their environment, which not only includes the fig tree but also his family, visiting friends, natural elements, and the sudden barking of dogs during painting. All these elements harmonize, the only discordant note being the war news from the radio, which clashes with the atmosphere in the backyard and feels distant. The painter continually seeks to capture the sunlight on the fig tree's branches and fruits, but ultimately he fails and resorts to sketching, saying, "Life is always like this; you have to let go of some things." The artist paints the tree on the canvas, while the camera captures the artist on film. This significance becomes even more pronounced in the concluding scenes, where the director can’t help but express his viewpoint. The figs ripened and fell; thus, continuing the painting became increasingly difficult. The artist moves the easel indoors, gazing at the tree outside; family and workers enjoy the figs and discuss them. At the film's end, the director places the camera and fig tree in the same frame, the machine quietly focusing on a fallen fig, marked by the white traces of paint left by the artist. "Sunlight of the Fig Tree" progresses at an incredibly slow pace; thus, in a sense, it is a very dull film, perhaps as dull as your life is.