For the past few weeks, I’ve wanted to write something about the Robert Bresson retrospective currently under way at the Gene Siskel Film Center. It’s possibly the most important revival program in town, since—as Jonathan Rosenbaum likes to note—Bresson’s exacting sounds and compositions take on deeper meaning when projected from celluloid rather than presented digitally. But this master filmmaker has been written about so much in the past few decades that Bresson criticism now runs the risk of overshadowing the actual work. I encourage those who know Bresson only through his reputation to forget the reviews and just go: few filmmakers speak so directly to one’s eyes and ears.