XVII century London. Orlando is a young aristocrat, hermaphrodite in the fashion of the time and serious about turning a life he knows so little about into an art he knows even less about.
Orlando attracts the attention of the aging Queen Elizabeth I, and her majesty orders him not to grow up and not to grow old. Orlando obeys, inexplicably remaining rosy-cheeked and handsome even as the centuries pass.
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Time is an unstoppable flow, trying to tear me out of my dreams, striving to define, to name, to pack for the future as a copy of history with a plaque at my feet: the beginning of the XXI century. I do not give in, I resist as best I can. And, in the end, I realize that all to no avail. Although…
I don’t like modern prose and poetry. I consider it a dump and garbage. I want everyone to shut up and be quiet for a moment. What for? – To look around, not to search, frantically twiddling their fingers and running their eyes frantically, for meaning in quotations, in empty words, crossed by force, viviparous mutants, incapable of life inside the soul… All this is dirty, vile, nauseating, but antiseptics for the soul have not yet been invented, and I have only one remedy in reserve: escape into time. Somewhere, where its flow has swept away all the husk and unnecessary, the stench and excrement. And you all keep picking and dying in your own shit, drowning out the stench of incessant decomposition with expensive (cheap) perfumes, extracting sugar words from velvet pink brains, go on… Death every day, day by day…
Orlando has had four centuries of life as we know it, according to Virginia Woolf. And at the end of the novel, she did not die. Sally Potter continued Orlando’s life to the limits she herself knows, pushing the line from the year 1928 forward six or seven decades, thereby creating her own personal work of art, the imprint of life. So I, who am distrustful of film adaptations, fell in love with her “Orlando” and am still impressed.
First of all, thanks to Tilda Swinton. I couldn’t have made a better choice for the role of the androgynous Orlando Potter(s). Tilda is good as in the image of an Elizabethan pageboy, and in the role of a thirsty young Victorian Mrs., and in the end – inimitable in the very “I”, the combination of two principles in her, the modern woman – in her and life and death, life and love, poetry and life, birth and death again, and vice versa – life is eternal, it either lives forever in the eyes, blood, hair, features of descendants, or remains in her as art, so stubbornly seeking to reflect that very life.
I don’t like classical music, but I adore the synthetic overdubs and noise twists of contemporary gay and beyond to the point of madness. The ending of “Orlando,” which is the second reason I fell in love, flipped everything I thought about this movie throughout. The Coming Song, Tilda Swinton at the age-old oak tree… She’s crying. And I’m crying. She says she’s happy. And I’m happy. This is a moment I will take with me – into myself. Thank you.
Codec: HEVC / H.265 (58.6 Mb/s)
Resolution: Native 4K (2160p)
HDR: Dolby Vision, HDR10
Original aspect ratio: 1.85:1
English: DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 (48kHz, 16-bit)
English: Dolby Digital 2.0
Spanish: Dolby Digital 2.0
English, English SDH.