At the very heart of Lancelot du Lac (1974),Robert Bresson places a single, resonant shot: Lancelot (Luc Simon) comes through a door and approaches a crucifix in the foreground of the shot, slightly out of focus. "Lord, do not forsake us. Do not forsake me", he says, confiding, "I struggle against a death worse than death. Deliver me from a temptation I can hardly resist." God does not respond; Bresson does. A true cinematographic master, Bresson would never have left the crucifix out of focus by accident; it remains so only with distinct purposefulness. In their relentless crusade for the Holy Grail, the Knights of the Round Table abandoned the teachings of the Lord they claimed to serve. Lancelot's true focus is not on the cross, but on himself.

In the film's prologue, the knights are shown killing and pillaging unrepentantly. The sequence is highly stylised to emphasize the brazen immorality of their actions. Perhaps the quest began as a noble one but, in Bresson's view, the actual outcome was anything but. Yet the knights remain wholly unaware of the nature of their plight. They question whether God has forsaken them; never do they realize it was they who first forsook God. The will of the Round Table grew too strong, its knights too forceful. As the soothsayer at the film's opening predicts, "He whose footfalls precede him will die within a year." Artus (Vladimir Antolek),Lancelot and their compatriots attained more power than even they could wield, their legend and renown overshadowing their mere being. Indeed, Bresson considers their actions an affront to God himself. The knights became too dominant to abide humble, Christian lives, instead they transmuted the nature of the religion to meet their own purposes. As Guinevère (Laura Duke Condominas) reprimands Lancelot, "It was not the Grail, it was God you all wanted. God is no trophy to bring home."

Bresson instills this notion of transmutation in the core of the film. Particular attention should be paid to the picture's climactic battle scene. Being a Bresson film, this is of course a misnomer: the scene is neither climactic nor focused on battle. The inherent intrigue provided by such scenes bores Bresson, who instead focuses on a separate meaning. Archers fire arrows; not one is shown hitting anyone. Consider what Bresson does show the arrows piercing: trees. The film returns to this sight on multiple occasions, using repetition to emphasize the images' meaning. Yet depicting arrows piercing tree bark is far more than commentary on man's destruction of the environment. Consider that these arrows are crafted from the wood of these very trees. As Bresson sees it, man has transmuted the trees' nature – from bearers of life to harbingers of death – to suit his own self-interest. Apply a similar notion to the knights' treatment of Christianity and Bresson's vision begins to come into focus.

Yet the film's ideas about transmutation of the innate extend beyond the mere implementation of Christian thought, down to the nature of man himself. Consider Bresson's fascination with the knights' armour, highlighted by its strangely overt presence on the soundtrack. Armour is used to shield, but not solely to ward off physical harm. The knights wear their armour in a subconscious effort to separate themselves from the frailty of corporeal existence. Arrogance has led them to believe their import has grown beyond that of the common man; continually wearing armour functions to further suggest this perceived disparity.

Finding clear distinction between themselves and the everyday peasant, the knights tire of their daily routine. It seems they are aroused only by the chance to satiate their common appetite for competition. The scene immediately prior to the deadly, final battle is perhaps even more important than the climax itself. Informed that Mordred (Patrick Bernard) has taken the castle, Lancelot, Artus and the surviving knights mount their horses to meet their adversary in battle. The air bristles with excitement, evidenced by Bresson's uncharacteristically quick cutting. One by one, each knight closes the visor on his helmet. This ritualistic preparation is not shown to titillate the viewer. As the knights close their visors, the viewer loses sight of their faces, hallmarks of their individuality. This represents the last time Bresson shows any human countenances in the film. As a group, the remaining knights ride off to certain death, quelling individual qualms each likely has about the relevance of their actions. Of all Lancelot du Lac's transmutations, perhaps Bresson finds this most resonant: man's strange compulsion to subjugate his most ingrained of natures, his instinct for survival, to quench an unearthy thirst for destruction.

You know that everything is possible and cinema has no limits when the most austere, minimalist and anti-conventional director of all-time shoots his version of the story of Camelot... and makes a masterpiece. In the first shot we see two unknown knights having a typical medieval fight; one of them eventually is hit and fall dead, and some blood runs through the ground. The winner goes away. But the difference is that it is shown in the most raw way possible, without any kind of beauty or visual show to please the audience. That's the essence of Bresson's cinema: "only the necessary", said the master. Then, after the credits, we see that is not the Holy Grail story, the traditional story, but what happens next, it begins were the legend ends. The knights return demoralized to the kingdom. Their leader, Percival, is lost, and Lancelot blames himself and his adultery with Guinevere as the reason that the Grail was not found- the search for it was, for him, also the search for God. The Queen is not convinced, and ask his love with words which have nothing extraordinary alone; however, the emotionless way she asks makes it unusual, and somewhat disturbing. The knights are completely demystified and shown not as legend, but men, and men which lack something: is it love, God, a reason to live now that their search is over (and was unsuccessful)? Maybe all that, maybe more, but the fact is that eventually it will explode, and Camelot's decadence will be inevitable. Bresson's ultra-naturalistic and anti-conventional style makes it's images very powerful. The best are a tournament when he applies one of his principles "to give something for the ears and then for the eyes, never both", increasing the effect of the combats, which would have seem even foolish otherwise, and the ending, which is a very shocking one. Because of all that, Lancelot of the Lake is one of the finest films of one of cinema's greatest masters. Mainstream audiences will probably hate it, but one who's eager to see another side of a very known story should see it.

PS: I'm quoting out of memory, so it maybe not be the exacts Bresson's words

Arthur's knights, far from being heroic, are conniving and greedy men who, just before the film starts, have failed miserably to find the Holy Grail. Aimlessly resentful at first, the developing relationship between Lancelot and Queen Guinevere focuses their rage, leading to inevitable tragedy.

In common with Bresson's later films, the cast was composed of amateur actors, several of whom did not appear in any other film. Bresson's direction demanded a purposeful lack of emotion in the acting style, and reduced or eliminated the fantastical elements of the Grail legend. This unglamorous depiction of the Middle Ages emphasizes blood and grime over fantasy. This is what really sells it; by taking place after the Grail quest, we are left with no magic or anything fantastic... and this allows the film to begin with some amusing battle scenes.

Interestingly, it was Michael Haneke's second-place choice in the 2002 Sight & Sound poll of the greatest films ever made. His number one was also a Bresson film. No one else has ever before or since rated the film so highly, but I think Haneke is on the right track. "Lancelot" needs to be honored as much as "Pickpocket" and the other Bresson greats.