Learning to Glean: A Response to Agnes Varda’s “The Gleaners & I” (2000)

There are many ways to discuss social issues in documentary film, but if the filmmaker is to succeed he or she must both inform and entertain the viewer. Some approaches to film making may call for a serious approach, but these objective methods can also leave the viewer's relationship with the subject matter cold and distant. In contrast, Agnès Varda’s documentary The Gleaners & I uses the more personable performative mode, placing her own point of view on an equal level with the subject matter. Through this “subjective and affective” lens, Varda is able to approach a truthful and compelling set of stories that enrich the formerly stale subject of conservation and waste (Nichols 202). This shift is encapsulated within Ernest Callenbach’s description of the topic as “ostensible”. For Varda too, the “shimmering, shifting metaphor” of gleaning morphs into something more familiar (Callenbach 46). More specifically, the performative mode allows the viewer to become intimately familiar with the presence and intent of the maker.

In my view, much of The Gleaners success can be attributed to the fact that Varda’s purpose is harmless and excitingly curious. She lives within and documents the experience of gleaning much like a tourist, and it is our pleasure to join her. This privileged access makes The Gleaners feel like reading a personal diary. We enter into the workings of Varda’s mind as she takes us through an often unpolished kaleidoscope. Throughout the work she able to change our worldview by sharing the impact these encounters have on her own life.Varda’s kaleidoscope goes a step beyond the silent observation of direct cinema, because the footage is augmented by reactional commentary directed to the viewer. In some respects, encouraging the audience to view the footage in a certain way disobeys the adage of showing versus telling. To some harsher critics it may defeat the purpose of film itself. However, in many cases what Varda sees is too complex for us to understand at first blush. Therefore, Verda’s subjective commentary serves as pedagogy, allowing us to understand the deeper meanings that only a true gleaner can see.

Like any good film, every piece of footage in the final edit serves a purpose. In this case, Varda repurposes the seemingly extraneous. Framing the leaky mildew on her ceiling as artwork, or repurposing the accidental lens cap sequence as a jazzy “dance” scene are just two examples of this creativity. We are able to enter into the mind of Varda and blur the line between “actual and imagined” realities (Nichols 201). To the untrained eye, these bits may seem irrelevant. In actuality, both scenes force the viewer to think about their conception of what is valuable and what is rubbish.

Just as the dadaists were criticized in the early 20th century (Art story), some may call Varda’s text crazy, unfair or unartistic. However, I respect Varda’s ability to become embodied in the work and see the value of these coincidental moments. What I learned most from her work is that documentary film should not always be serious and uptight. In her piece Varda raises a lot of important questions. We are meant to interrogate the construction of the film itself through its reflexive and often absurdist mentality, but eventually are led to larger questions, dealing with the deeper meaning of beauty and utility in the world around us.