‘Music’ Review – Angela Schanelec’s Intricate Reinterpretation Of An Athenian Tragedy Is Challenging And Entrancing

To cinematically adapt Sophocles’ “Oedipus Rex”, a tragedy centered on the inherent conflict between fate and free will, is to litter its interpretation with necessary departures. Of course, you start with names and locations; language comes next, for the Greek text is not overly complex but archaic in nature. Yet with Music, Angela Schanelec’s beguiling 10th feature, the German auteur filters complexities of her own into a familiar tale, if not a widely-consumed one. Befitting of her style, what Schanelec offers here is at times vexing, frequently enthralling, and often – if not always – meditative. Whether it satisfies your taste will hinge entirely on your attraction to the act of experiencing and studying works of art rather than simply viewing them for what presents itself on the surface.

Exposition, especially of the explicitly structured variety, is hardly of interest to Schanelec, a filmmaker likely best known for her 2019 Silver Bear-winning film, I Was at Home, But. She’d rather envelop you with her extended shots of nature and setting, as is done at Music’s onset. The film’s first two minutes focus entirely on a trail of clouds that slowly overtake a forest’s upper layer, the director’s gaze not wavering for an instant in these 120 seconds. Those unfamiliar with Schanelec’s oeuvre are bound to grow restless, wondering when the “action” will begin. But consider this a rousing recommendation to remain at attention, for what follows these lengthy periods of staticism are often the most important to consider. 

In fact, the moment she cuts away from these treetops, dusk has fallen, and a wailing man creeps into the frame. He seems to be carrying a human being; is it dead or alive? Focus long enough and the truth will be revealed. Soon, we see that she is unconscious, smatters of blood staining the man’s clothes. Saving her seems to be a hopeless errand, so he leaves the woman on the mountainside. By morning – Schanelec’s next cut brings with it sunlight and chirping birds, though a Greek chorus nearly drowns out the ambient sounds of the wilderness with its operatic murmur – we find that a baby boy has been born and abandoned in a nearby shack. He is later adopted by Elias (Argyris Xafis), the EMT who found him, and his wife, Merope (Marisha Triantafyllidou). They name him Jon. He is our Oedipus.

We know this because, in one of the few plot points that Schanelec pulls directly from Sophocles’ play, of his bruised feet, which we see Jon have both as an infant and as an adult. Played with hushed stoicism by the Canadian actor Aliocha Schneider, we watch Jon’s life unfold in a series of connected chapters, an unaged and unchanged Schneider portraying our main character through them all. In the first, and perhaps the most pivotal, Jon and some friends take a trip, where one consequential accident leads to another, and suddenly, Jon is imprisoned, having committed accidental manslaughter. While behind bars, he encounters Iro (Agathe Bonitzer), the warden with whom he falls in love and has a child. 

But that’s merely part of Jon’s full arc, and though Iro is an imperative piece in this puzzle of a film, what Schanelec never fails to prioritize is her command over Music’s visual language, often placing it before verbal communication entirely. Perhaps ironically, music is only played or sung in spurts, as though Schanelec knows that it’s an artform that requires more time to rest in our minds in order to be interpreted properly. It’s best to experience a work of this nature and sophistication like one would an orchestral composition, entirely open to unique analysis from every individual ear that takes it in. 

The same could (and should) be said for “Oedipus Rex”, though it’s fair to suspect that a filmmaker of this caliber – a cinematic mind that remains as puzzling and indirect as she is prolific, producing 10 features in just 20 years – views the inspirational tragedy as a framework for her intentions, not a strict set of instructions. Yes, Jon’s feet are bruised, and indeed, tragedies of varying magnitude befall him and those in his orbit like snow falls in the winter months, but there’s a reason the film does not share a name with its source. There’s more to it, Schanelec might as well be saying to us as we watch, squinting to seek out a deeper meaning, reading between lines that have lines within themselves.

That can be a taxing exercise, and due to its at-times-overwhelming silence, or at least its many dialogue-free stretches, Music can, itself, be demanding. At times, it’s dangerously akin to a spool of yarn that rolled off the table and into eternity, never to be roped in again. But as enigmatic as Schanelec can tend to be, the manner in which she restricts her viewer’s access to life preservers so as to force them to learn to swim on the fly is not cruel, but beneficial. She is not one to sacrifice her craft in an effort to corral larger audiences, with her latest film being no exception to that rule, yet those who find their way to this latest piece are sure to at least walk away pondering the merits of their own life, and the things that give us hope as we stare down seemingly-insurmountable obstacles. Admittedly, Music seemed to be just that at the start. By its conclusion, a near-four-minute oner soundtracked by falsetto voices singing to their Gods, it was startling to note how enveloping a work that seemed so cold at its beginning had become. Imagine what sitting on it a while longer will do. 

Music is currently playing in select theaters courtesy of Cinema Guild.