Take two pivotal moments in Ali’s journey, the first of which is the moment when his back is tattooed for the first time. This is furthered not only by the film’s tonal shifts and mise-en-scène, but even how it uses music to up the contrast to emphasize the absurdity of it all. The film shifts from romantic drama to the realm of farce repeatedly, emphasizing this balance between the profane and the dramatic in equal measure. The film’s ultimate aim not only shines a spotlight on the cost of freedom from refugees of war-stricken nations, but to place that struggle in stark contrast with the shallowness of the art world and materialism occupied by Western cultures, particularly Europe. What follows is that our hero, Sam Ali, finds a Schengan visa tattooed onto his back and is flown around from art museum to art museum and even sold at one point in order to ensure his “freedom” from a persecution back home. In “The Man Who Sold His Skin,” a Syrian refugee manages to make his way to Europe only after making an agreement with a painter – to allow himself to become a piece of artwork. This week’s installment features “The Man Who Sold His Skin.” We will select a film section or a film in its entirety and highlight the impact that utilizing the operatic form or sections from an opera can alter our perception of a film that we are viewing. “Opera Meets Film” is a feature dedicated to exploring the way that opera has been employed in cinema.
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