Let’s not call it a documentary. The 1984 Hiroshi Teshigahara classic Antonio Gaudí follows the life and works of the Spanish sculptor and architect in its own way, to be certain, but any further attempt to shoehorn it into the taxonomy of classic doc-style features would be a fruitless endeavour.
To start with, the 72-minute film eschews the use of an overarching story, relying instead on the bold, organic weirdness and eye-pleasing nuance of Gaudí's designs to guide the movie’s visual sensibilities and narrative. Extended pans through melting panoramas focus on the fine details and guide the audience through the mindscape of the artist, letting the structures themselves speak for him.
Also notably absent is any narration whatsoever. The movie has some speech in it, mostly in the last few minutes, but the words serve to enhance the atmosphere rather than explain it. Instead, Teshigahara relies on the craft of his serial accomplice and composer, Toru Takemitsu, to create an ambiance as rich, compelling and tragic as any verbal tale of Gaudí’s life would be. Sometimes sonorous and joyful, at others discordant and spooky, the score provides an excellent framework from which to view the movie and a sonic backdrop as interesting as its cinematography.
Equally fascinating are the occasional human subjects upon which the film lingers. The culture in and around the biologically inspired edifices is vibrant and vital, giving the viewer a snapshot of how the buildings have come to be used in the near century since their creator’s death. This ultimately endows the 25-year-old movie with a feeling of rediscovery, a fresh analysis from a world more willing to accept abstraction.
The film travels through Gaudí’s achievements in order, and closes with a deep, lingering sequence focusing on his masterpiece, the Barcelona cathedral Sagrada Familia. It was while working on the Sagrada that Gaudí was killed by a tram car. Shortly after that, his remaining blueprints were destroyed by anarchists in the Spanish Civil War. This is the only section of the movie to employ narration, pondering Gaudí’s own views on his unfinished business, and the effect is haunting.
Teshigahara’s work is deliberate and masterful, and his affection for his subject is clear. Though the format is sometimes disquieting, nostalgic European backpackers, architecture buffs and cinephiles alike will find fun in it.
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