It is imperative to see this through the eyes of an alternative, indie or artistic film viewer. Seen in any other way it is amateur even shoddy. If the genre is embraced however it is a refreshing perspective on a subculture who would otherwise be seen as lowly. I felt completely different about "bag ladies" and tramps after watching this and even a little humbled by the last character studied.
The film begins with paintings of gleaners, a visual and historical view. Some interesting interviews with people who remember the practice, and how communal it was. But Varda also takes in more modern examples, some quite surprising, some highly creative. These give another take on what is essentially re-cycling and often 'up-cycling'. A pleasing film.
Leftovers rarely look this alive. Agnés Varda takes the humble act of gleaning—picking up what others discard—and makes it quietly radical. Misshapen potatoes, furniture on sidewalks, even her own reflection: all become part of a moving essay on waste, need, and the hidden value of scraps.
The film is as much about Varda as her subjects. Her DV camera becomes a second pair of hands, roving with curiosity, dipping to the ground or tilting up to the sky. She pauses on mould in her kitchen, lingers on her aging hands, and folds herself into the film with wry honesty that makes each digression feel essential.
Gloss is absent, but that’s the point. The Gleaners and I turns fragments into something whole, showing that cinema, like gleaning, is an art of salvage. Varda doesn’t just capture what’s overlooked—she elevates it into a feast.