Featured, First Run 2008, Gleb Sidorkin - Thursday, April 17, 2008 6:33 - 1 Comment

Dawn of Man at First Run: Experiments with the Human Psyche

by Gleb Sidorkin

Having sat through a decidedly nondescript pair of First Run seances put on by the narrative divisions of both the Grad and Undergrad departments, I was despairing of having something to write about. There seems to be an inverse relationship between the “level” of a student film and the dose of creative vitality allotted to the project. When you have a lot riding on a project, you tend to play it safe– often to the detriment of your audience. In this context, viewing the animation/experimental showcase on Friday night was a breath of fresh air in a stuffy auditorium.

Stephen Neary’s hilarious Flash-based cartoon musical about a man’s love for his shark suit, along with David Pagano’s accomplished use of the Lego-Mation technique in Litte Guys! set the table for what was, for me, the main course of the show: Three experimental films with lead-ins bearing the insignia of “Dawn of Man Productions.” All three combined exemplary craftsmanship with a palpable excitement about continuing to explore both the technical and narrative possibilities of cinema. Not for one moment did I look at the screen and think: “I’ve seen this before, I know what they’re trying to do here.”

Ben Nicholas’s film Couples is a triptych, the first part of which was already featured on the TFR site. “In the Diner” indeed distinguishes itself with the grace and subtlety of its camera movements, pacing, and orchestration of fleeting moments of eye contact– or lack thereof. The second part of Couples relocates us from the diner to a woman’s suburban life of retirement, complete with minivan, well-appointed house and jigsaw-solving husband. She is being stalked by a younger man– perhaps a son– and must reconcile herself with the apparition’s presence in her otherwise quiet physical and mental space. The third segment, which is the most divergent of the three in its color palate and set design, depicts a young couple suffering through the anxiety of a pregnancy test. The actors in this scene, as, seemingly, in all of Mr. Nicholas’s projects, are a significant cut above the standard student film fare.

The Bystander Effect, Max Nova’s contribution to the screening, explores the inuring effects of crowd psychology on the urban dweller. A woman is assaulted while walking through a high-rise housing development, and lies bleeding on the ground (from the program notes we learn that the woman in question represents Kitty Genovese, the victim of a 1968 murder which prompted scientific inquiry into bystander apathy). Nova’s camera takes up its position within the private space of a series of nearby apartments, and lingers on the faces of the residents as each convinces themselves that the voice of the woman screaming for help is addressing somebody– anybody else. In an ambiguous final twist, we watch as the attacker returns to his victim’s side, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder as the last of her strength seeps from the knife-wound he has inflicted on her. With its roving sociological eye, Nova’s expertly crafted set-piece implicitly places the audience member in another of those nearby urban dwellings, forcing us to question the NYC ethos of “playing it cool” in the face of harsh reality.

The “Ben Bindra Blunt” Verses is the most ambitious and fascinating of the three projects, though the thematic links tying together the three segments are not entirely clear. However, the juxtaposition of the three vastly divergent styles in which “Man vs. Woman,” “Man vs. Reality,” and “Man vs. The Unknown” are shot make for an extremely varied and ultimately satisfying viewing experience. The first piece renders in rich and often touching detail the entire arc of a passionate love affair. With its skips, loops, and time dilations it seems to take the impressionistic form of a lover’s remembrance rather than a narrated story. The most gorgeous single shot of the evening depicts “Man” running desperately over a dirt road. The flat, yellow wasteland that surrounds him is simultaneously beautiful and evocative of the barrenness one’s life takes on in the wake of abandonment. Of course, not content with merely taking us on a moving emotional journey, Bindra zooms inside Man’s chest cavity, where we spend an intimate moment with his beating heart. The next Man finds himself sitting down to dinner in the Surrealist-inspired interior of what seems to be the restaurant at the gates of hell. A large waiter with the head of a bovine and the voice of a young girl brings a succession of disgusting dishes to which Man reacts with justified outrage. A series of bizarre apparitions and situations, all taking place within the small, well-designed set, culminates in Man’s death– seemingly at the hands of the restaurant itself. The third vignette, starring Darrell Wilson as the newly-inaugurated President of the U.S.A. who undergoes an initiation into some horrifying military secret, is a technical feat. Using spot lighting to expose the black-and-white film (all three of the directors chose to use 16mm rather than video), Bindra and his crew intricately maneuver the camera through a darkened soundstage, capturing the whole scene in a single dolly shot.

Working within the context of UGFTV’s experimental workshops has given these filmmakers full license to create the most visually and emotionally interesting strips of celluloid that they can, without subjecting themselves to the stifling market-simulating pressures that often plagues Advanced Workshop. This freedom and creative energy, combined with the pool of mutually supportive technical expertise that exists within Dawn of Man Productions is a strong basis from which we can look forward to seeing much more good work. An interesting question, however, is how to support such work outside the cocoon of academia. Where is the market for these kinds of films? An obvious outlet, besides the smattering of experimentally-conscious film festivals, is the music video form to which these styles can easily be adapted. I would guess, however, that the superior economic structure of the art market will eventually lure these filmmakers away from the film festival circuit and into the gallery or museum space.