Miroir Noir

And while that fact is still readily apparent, the best thing about the yet to be released Miroir Noir is the curtain being pulled back ever so slightly so we can catch a glimpse of the band behind. What starts off as a grainy hypnosis session bleeds into tiny peeks of the band composing and recording their songs, with the translation between incompletion and the stage.

Most songs are introduced by only their string section, (and generally a narrator babbling nonsense, taken from the band's 1-800 number. Nearly all the messages were goofy or self aware, but when one man begins shouting about religion, the effect is chilling) which gives the whole affair a feeling of dread that was not always readily apparent in their music until now.

But the real knockout is the seemingly coincidental footage that Vincent Morriset (the director) and Vincent Moon (the cinematographer) capture, snapshots that fit perfectly with each individual song. Like Win delivering vocals for Windowsill while driving through New York, hitting the chorus when the car stops right in front of a Best Buy and right next to a stretch limo. What he does next is so hilarious and Dylan-esque, it's massively endearing. Or Regine staring at a thunderstorm through huge glass windows while Ocean of Noise bleats in the background.

The whole movie is full of such small documented miracles, but the one that takes the cake is the first Windowsill sequence. What with Win and Regine playing in an glass elevator, so we can catch small glances of what's decorating the passing floors; and then the scene shifts to a wide shot of three other band members running across three separate floors.

Give most of the credit to cinematographer Vincent Moon, who already had a wide library of such spontaneous beauty, thanks to his incredible La Blogotheque and Take Away Shows. The man knows how to catch lightning in a bottle nearly every time. Still, not enough can be said about Vincent Morriset's influence and superb editing style.

In the end though, Miroir Noir reveals nothing new about the band but peels away layers upon layers of their music, reveling in the magic each note contains. The most telling shot is the band celebrating post-show, pre-encore, using a shutting and opening door for percussion. This is the closest we can come, a door being (gently) slammed in our face, an invitation to join along in celebration but also a reminder that magic does still exist, and we wouldn't really understand it even if we saw it with our own eyes. When it comes to Arcade Fire would you really expect anything different?