Kirsanoff’s Brumes d’Automne is a profound vignette of a woman’s sorrowful, pensive state. It begins with shots of bodies of water, towering trees, and overcast skies, setting a melancholy tone that persists throughout the film. The rain picks up as the young woman sits by her burning fireplace and opens a letter. Disappointed by its contents, she places it in the fire, letting it burn. As her eyes drift from the blaze, she slowly looks into the camera, and a methodical blurring effect signifies that the scene is part of her memory.
She stands in a doorway, watching as a man—presumably her former partner—walks away. The scene cuts between shots of her staring longingly, the gate outside the house, and the man’s legs as he leaves. This sequence effectively captures the source of her sorrow. Following this, the montage style continues, showing the letter burning and charring, the rain intensifying outside, and her eyes glossing over as she holds back tears. The interplay of these images evokes a deep sense of melancholy that swells as the memory overtakes her.
The woman leaves her home, wearing a shawl and heels as she walks through mud and puddles. Around 7:45, the editing becomes especially impressive for its time. As she gazes over a large body of water, the film manipulates perspective, twisting the view to encapsulate her mystified state. The landscape continues to warp, indicating that she “can’t see straight.” The film is remarkably effective in allowing the viewer to understand and connect with the woman’s frame of mind. The combination of montage editing and natural scenery evokes far more emotion than if the film had relied solely on continuous editing.