The earnest simplicity of this documentary is wonderfully endearing, enchanting, and altogether gratifying. It is in turn a time capsule of a specific time and place, a slice of life portraiture, and an examination of the mundane and familiar that are so easily overlooked. In the filmmaker's narration are provided tinges of thoughtful rumination that are almost poetic, a mild flourish which at once accentuates the banality and normalcy of what she captures with her camera while also lending a slight whimsical, nostalgic flavor. Scarcely has Agnès Varda's 'Daguerréotypes' begun and it's easy to kind of get swept up in the sincerity and pleasantness that it represents.
In casting her gaze on the shops near her home, the storefronts and their products, the shopkeepers, and the people who frequent them, Varda encourages a measure of introspection for we viewers. How often do we stop and truly think about the homes and businesses that are a mere stone's throw from our door? Regarding our neighbors and passers-by with politeness, civility, and kindness is one matter; how much do we really know about them? Who are they, what are their interests, what is going on in their own lives? How much do we ever pause in our daily lives to consider the ins and outs of how a shop operates, during and outside of business hours, even if it's one that we regularly visit? Varda may be taking a look at Rue Daguerre in the mid 1970s, but there are thoughts and gentle lessons here that we can take with us and apply to any time or place.
These are the notions one may readily draw from 'Daguerréotypes,' and they form the understated ethos guiding the production such as it is. But this is not a documentary with any overt hypothesis, or a point to make; Varda pointedly declines any sort of commentary or assertion. The closest this comes to "embellishment," or exceeding its very low-key, matter-of-fact tone, is in showcasing street musicians, or the performance of a magician who is touring the area. Otherwise this is very happily nothing more than a record of the sights and sounds of the street where Varda lived, and in that alone, it's uniquely fascinating. Factor in some footage of butchers, bakers, tailors, hair stylists, music teachers, and so on practicing their trade, and there's an unmistakable air of warmth and vitality course through these eighty minutes. And then there's the shrewd editing, at times juxtaposing similar moments and at others disparate ones, which results in turn in some striking sequencing, and at other points real laughs and entertainment. Honestly, there are times when this is downright ingenious, and I can only commend Varda for the vision that assembles this into something far richer than it seems at first blush.
However one might come across this feature it never pretends to be anything it's not. It may not readily appeal to all comers, but those for whom it holds no interest will have no problem looking right past and moving on. On the other hand, for those who are receptive to what Varda is doing with this film, it's immediately engrossing and plainly charming. 'Daguerréotypes' boasts a level of heartfelt genuineness, and absolute authenticity, that even many other documentaries often lack. It's easy as a viewer to stop and reflect that the filmmaker is giving us a peek at a world frozen in time, a look and feel that is no more and never will be again, but it's enough to just sit and admire this 1976 picture exactly as it is. One perhaps doesn't need to go out of their way to see this, but if you do have the chance to watch, as far as I'm concerned 'Daguerréotypes' is an exquisite little project, well worth the time it takes to watch and then some.
