In Portraits Cavalier is fascinated by women who manage to find a certain silent pleasure in practising a craft, the kind of work for which there is no more place in contemporary society. The film is in its simplicity comparable to a drawing by Matisse. And Cavalier also puts himself in the corner with Eustache and Bresson: there where ethics and aesthetics are inextricably bound up with each other, cinema becomes religion and the gaze a confession of faith. The distinction between reality and fiction dwindles. There are objects, then a voice, hands and in the end a face. Because in the end everyone is alone, Cavalier’s films are attempts to come into contact with the other. His craftsmanlike way of filming and the absence of minor details makes this film by Cavalier border on absolute purity. (RP)
