Cineaste Review: Part I

Unseen No More? The Avant-Garde on DVD

by Paul Arthur

This article, found in Cineaste Vol. XXXII No. 1, introduces what has been described as the "left-side" of the cinema culture. This refers to, of course, the independent aspects of filmmaking, ones that are not driven by studio support in production, funding, exhibition or propagation. Arthur talks about the supposed lack of a "niche" in the contemporary commercial entertainment market - forcing the avant-garde to live out its life in the underground. Therefore, there is a large misconception of what the avant-garde is, and its nomenclature confusion with the term experimental filmmaking.

Many people conceive the avant-garde as a genre or subset of filmic categorization, when in fact, the avant-garde contains genres and has subsets of its own. The emotional and thematic spectrum is every bit as rich (some could argue richer) than that of Hollywood products.

Cable TV's growth during the 80s, Arthur argues, was a potential proliferation opportunity for the experimental culture. But, sadly, it never turned out that way. Now, most 16mm rentals of the experimental wave are reserved for universities (many artuists choose not to transfer their works to DVD - the medium in which they were shot becomes the essence of the piece: See Brakhage's Mothlight or Gatten's What the Water Said for examples). But, Arthur argues, this "low-profile ... became part of the movement's implicit appeal": screenings and installations seem to be kept as intimate as possible - the inherent uniqueness and randomness of staged and improvised projection are just some of the characteristics unique the avant-garde (not to mention merging non-filmic mediums in with a single work).

The article, in reality, is more of a review (comparison?) of two recent DVD releases helping to bring the avant-garde to the general public. Kino Video's six-hour, 25-film collection Avant-Garde: Experimental Cinema of the 1920s and '30s and Anthology Film Archives' 19-hour (wow), 155-film collection Unseen Cinema: Early American Avant-Garde Film, 1893-1941 by Curator Bruce Posner.

The article strongly prefers the latter in this review - stating that the image quality is better (in the 9 repeated films from the two collections, in the least), the table of contents, translations and subtitles are more accurate and enjoyable. However, it does have its caveats.

The collection (not positive which one, I recall the latter) labels some of the silent 16mm films as "intentionall silent", yet adds tracks of "unobtrusive pinao riffs vie with abrasive electronic squall". These aural attacks seem anything but unobtrusive on something labeled "intentionally silent". The phrasing itself seems a bit insulting - that a film would be "intentionally" silent seems that there is something inherently broken the lack of sound in any visual medium. Yes, most silent films did have some sort of life accompanyment, but how would one choose a fitting track for a piece that was "intentionally" without sound?

The last thing I found interesting about the article happened to be a list of films that were listed in the Experimental section of Netflix: A Clockwork Orange, Pi, The Royal Tenenbaums and Shock Corridor. This, once again, leads us back to the nomenclature and the definition of avant-garde theory. I, for one, found that Arthur's suggested definition is quite fitting:

"Hence, what is avant-garde is identified as a set of typical, historical conditions of possibility governing the funding, method of production, distribution, exhibition and publicity of nonmainstream films."

This classifies the works of Man Ray as Avant-Garde while reserving the right to kick out Fox newsreels.

Cineaste Review: Part II

Auteur de Force: Michael Haneke's Cinema of Glaciation

by Roy Grundermann

This article, found in Cineaste Vol. XXXII No. 2, vaguely outlines Michael Haneke's skeleton of work. For starters, Wikipedia's short description of Haneke is as follows:

"...an Austrian filmmaker and writer best known for his bleak and disturbing style."

The article seems to repeat this for a good 8-10 pages. I'm not complaining, there are some very detailed aspects and themes from his work supporting his polemic ideas about alienation, brutalization, individuals and solipsism (unintelligibly between individuals).

He is a post-holocaust filmmaker, so his world view is to be a little skewed. That's natural. German Expressionism developed in the time between the two great wars. Great strife is a very common catalyst for great art.

Much like the expressionists which preceded him (not claiming that he is an expressionist, just that they share common traits), his works are very thematically interested in existentialism (question of existence), and alienation of individuals from the greater society. He claims "dysfunctional and self-destructive characters stress that the desirably normality of the mainstream is oppressively normative (logical circle?)": the reason his characters, sooner or later, become dysfunctional and violent.

Haneke stated himself that his film (or its purpose) acts as medium to transport self-reflexivity of modern culture and of high-art. It is to teach its viewers to question their condition of existence. To, eventually, share a world view that he seems to take interest in: that "humanity's natural lot is to suffer in the face of life's cold, hostile indifference..."

Act/React

Brian Knepp’s Healing Pool is a work consisting of a large floor-bound screen used by two overhead projectors and cameras. The work projects orange and black gray-matter shapes on the floor which slowly grow and conjoin with each other throughout the lifetime of the work. Until the entire board is filled, the work will continuously grow. The cameras, mounted aside the overhead projectors, scan, in real-time, your location by monitoring your shadows. The shapes projected by the work will be erased as you pass over them.

Daniel Rozin’s Peg Mirror is a work consisting of wooden dowels connected to servo motors arranged in a circle. The center of the work consists of a camera. Because of the shape of each dowel (cut on a vertical diagonal), shadows are cast past the pegs depending on what way they turn. The camera in the center finds the highest point of contrast to whatever it views, and recreates, in a frightening realistic manner, the light and dark areas of the space directly in front of it.

Many works in modern art museums are the product of classical training. Painters express ideas through the representation of the real world through techniques involving color, shape, perspective, shadow, etc. Musicians express ideas through carefully constructed phrases and motifs through characteristics such as rhythm, melody, timbre, etc. Most works of art are for perception, stimulus. They are solid and concrete - unchanging between viewings. Healing Pool has a

Films are usually in their finished form (or very close to it) when an audience views it. The Mona Lisa was the same a decade ago - and will be the same a decade from now, aside from restoration. Duchamp stated that a work is not complete until its exhibition, where the ideas of the viewer change something about the reception of the work itself to that viewer. This is true for the great bulk of art. But, both Knepp and Rozin’s works break something about our involvement in the artistic process. They DO change over time. Although they operate on a set of unchanging principles, they have a method of reflecting the changes of the environment in which they are installed - they have a method of reflecting the changes in the person interacting with them.

The people I’ve noticed experiencing this work, including myself, try their hardest to test the boundaries of the piece’s inherent interactivity. Because the viewer directly controls the immediate outcome and state of the work, there is little hesitation to immerse yourself within the space of the work. No one rubs their hand against the canvas of a painting hanging on a museum wall - maybe its because the traditional way to receive a painting is through a visual medium alone; maybe its because there is a sort of faux pas in being that intimate with such a relic. No one simply viewed these works. They interact with these works like a game. George Fifield stated in his article: “Since we are always ‘filling in’ the information an artist presents, we interact wiht all art. While we can thus be said to ‘interact’ with the visual arts, music, books, and movies, we do so in a mental or psychological way. Truly interactive art, however, is based on percept that distinguish it from ‘passive’ or linear art - whether visual, cinematic, literary, or musical. Visitors to a work of interactive art choose the path they take through it...”

During my time in the Act/React exhibit, I noticed, on three separate occasions, that people would try to eliminate everything from the board in Healing Pool. “I’ve noticed that my shadow erases part of the work - what would happen if I erase it all - Will it grow back? Will the flow of the piece change”? The same thing happened with Peg Mirror - people would stand before the work at varying distances and varying speeds of movement to see if they could move faster than the peg mirror could change.

Part I: Art Encounters

     Contemporary film has done a good job at disguising the physical medium behind the visual illusion. We’re lead to believe that image projected in front of us is as real and tactile as a play. The inner-workings of the booth are off-limits to the viewer. The film is about the narrative, not the mechanics that makes the phenomenon possible.

     The avant-garde has done the complete opposite – at least in my eyes. Hollis Frampton has a subject-theory of film. He proposes that a film is about what appears most often. A movie’s main character, a main location or a main event is certainly on the screen more than any other character, location or event. However, “one thing has always been in the projector. Film.”

     Many avant-garde artists deal with film directly – physically. Stan Brakhage’s “Mothlight”, Gatten’s “What the Water Said”, Andrea Leuteneker’s “Bear Garden”, Vanessa O’Neill’s “Suspension” and many of Robert Schaller’s works all manipulate film in a way that camera simply cannot.

     Stan Brakhage’s “Mothlight” was made entirely with film - and only film. No light funneled through a lens was needed to shape the image – it was all done by hand. Taping thousands of moths onto two blank strips of film (I still wonder how he gathered this many bugs), a work of what Brakhage would describe as “pure cinema” was created.

     Brakhage said himself that cinema is a mature art – it needn’t borrow anything from theater or literature. Emotionally intense experiences can be created using film techniques by themselves, void of characters, plot or actors. This is a perfect explanation of David Gatten’s film “What the Water Said No. 1-3”. It’s a purely visual experience – there is no need for character development, plot structure, even a camera. It’s simply placing unexposed film in the water – letting what happens happen. It’s also a way to employ a non-linear structure in a non-narrative film. With all the film surfaces exposed at the same time, anything could happen in any projected temporal location: it’s a single moment in the water stretched out over several minutes.

     During a viewing of “Triptych”, a triple-projection film by Robert Schaller, you can’t help but to be aware of the mechanics. Three 16mm projectors are humming in unison a few rows behind you. The film is projects at an odd ratio – three times longer than a standard 4:3 projection; even the projectors are on their side, making the final area 9:4.

     Schaller takes this “stuff of film” theory a bit further than his colleagues. He hand-makes the emulsion for his films. Sometimes, this hand-made film stands on its own. In this sense, the “stuff of film” is the film itself. There is no higher level of understanding – no interpretations – just a visual experience. I’m not sure `meta` would be the right word…

Part II: Surveying Art Journals

From the list provided, I chose to follow Cineaste for the remainder of the semester. It's a magazine-like journal, yet not light on content. I tried to pick up Millenium Film Journal and almost broke my arm. I `do` admire the works of Stan Brackhage, but I'd rather focus on something I have a somewhat previous knowledge of.

The content of Cineaste, however, is not old news to me. It just happens to be about films I don't think I'll particularly get a chance to be introduced to through Carl's lectures. There was an article on "No Country for Old Men", the films of Manuel de Oliveira, and even Luis Buñuel. I think I'll enjoy the commentaries.

"What makes No Country for Old Men a brilliant - and courageous - film is that the Coen Brothers, following Cormac McCarthy's lead, have made nihilism such an integral part of every aspect of the filmmaking process. There is simply no way out". -- Royal Brown