Visions of Eight
That line is narrated by Mai Zetterling, one of eight directors commissioned with documenting a piece of the 1972 Olympics in Munich. Each with a different style, and certainly a different modus operandi. Regardless of that, capturing sports on film, especially in slow motion, is pure cinema. Anything caught on celluloid potentially is. So appreciators of this art form who may share Zetterling's feelings likely will still find 1973's VISIONS OF EIGHT a captivating dose of filmmaking for its own sake.
Projects like this almost always have a built-in hit/miss quotient. I'm not sure what executive producer David L. Wolper's intentions were, if cohesion was even a goal. Each director was allowed to interpret the Games as they saw fit, and consequently the film has some jarring juxtapositions. Curiously, VISIONS OF EIGHT focuses primarily on the agony of defeat. This is not another rah-rah, whitewashed bit of propaganda, no "triumph of the will", but rather a documentary that does not cut away from the pained faces of athletes who failed to clear the bar on the pole vault or whose javelin didn't travel the distance. In that regard, the film ably demonstrates the sentiments of the quote by the Baron Pierre de Coubertin, President of the International Olympic Committee from 1896-1925, that closes the picture:
The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part. Just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well.
For me, the segments directed by Arthur Penn ("The Highest") and John Schlesinger ("The Longest") worked best. Penn's approach is almost abstract and impressionistic. He favors gradual focus and tight shots of those pole vaulters, and the repetition of these images does become hypnotic. Schlesinger follows an English long distance runner's progress and even his thoughts; it's the closest thing to a narrative to be found in this compilation. He also makes a brief reference to the tragedy of the murdered Israelis, though like his subject, he stays riveted to the task at hand.
I was somewhat disappointed with Milos Forman's offering, 'The Decathalon", a cheeky, even silly bit which intercuts shot puts and 100 meter hurdles with footage of orchestras and yodellers, as well as an Olympic official who can't seem to stay awake. There's also sped up footage that evokes memories of the Benny Hill show. Argh. To boot, we hear the director say he took on this assignment to get the best seat in the house, for free. Argh.
Elsewhere, Claude Lelouch contributes "The Losers" (quite effective), Yuri Ozervov "The Beginning" (a rapidly edited mess), Michael Pfleghar "The Women" (fair, though not as strong as hoped, and not at all "objectifying" as some viewers have charged), Kon Ichikawa's "The Fastest" (good, with insightful if slightly corny narration), and Zetterling "The Strongest" (Candid look at weightlifting, with some fascinating Olympic stats woven in).
Success varies by segment, but the entire movie is brilliantly shot, a visual feast whose bodies in motion comprise a diverse tapestry of human achievement, victorious or otherwise. A unique document.
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