I only saw IPHIGENIA once, almost 30 years ago, but it has haunted me since.<br /><br />One sequence particularly stays in mind, and could only have been fashioned by a great director, as Michael Cacoyanis undoubtedly is.<br /><br />The context: the weight of history and a mighty army and fleet all lie on King Agamemnon's shoulders. An act of sacrilege has becalmed the seas, endangering his great expedition to Troy. He is told he must sacrifice his daughter Iphigenia to Apollo in order to gain the winds for the sails of the Thousand Ships. He initially resists, but comes around, and tricks his wife Clytemenstra to bring their daughter to the Greek camp in order to marry the greatest of all warriors, Achilles.<br /><br />Clytemnestra and Iphigenia arrive, find out about the sacrifice, and rage to the gods for protection and vengeance. Meanwhile, the proud Achilles discovers that his name has been used in this fraudulent, dishonorable way. He climbs a hill to tell Iphigenia that he will protect her.<br /><br />The shot: The camera circles the two young people, without looking directly at each other. They bemoan their fate, and the weakness of men that deceive their loved ones and lust for war. Suddenly, they gaze at each other and, for one moment, we feel both their power and beauty, and the unstated--except by the camera--irony that in another time, another place, they perhaps could love each other and be married. It is a sharp and sad epiphany that lasts only for an instant.<br /><br />What direction! What camera! What storytelling!