“Memory is a cruel hope without awakening”. – Dore O.
Pictures then of her family, accompanied by excruciating noise. The mother standing in front of the door, looking out of the window: the family enjoying its Sunday Lunch in a sombrely panelled room, at afternoon coffee, or breakfast together in bed. Dore O., always at the edge of things, dreamy absent, or suddenly intercut, a crouching figure on a bed, turning to and from with her hair flowing. A picture that recurs as a leitmotif, like the hand emerging from a pit and clasping a lid that has been half pushed aside.
superimpositions – silhouettes of Dore O. alone or with an indistinctly recognisable partner over a barren landscape, behind an overcast winter sky – have become rare in this film. The austere images tell more about the completely individual process of emancipation of a young woman than whole novels do. The fact that a woman was able to film this process with such self-confidence of form is evidence of an emancipation that is no less relevant for our society than more general socio-critical agitation. – Peter Steinhart, RHEINISCHE POST 7.10.1969.
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