In a sentence...

Filmmaking today is happening, everywhere.

Field Reports, Part III: Journal report.

I found an article buried in Senses of Cinema that was pretty interesting. It's called "Seeing in the Night: A Nocturne" by Fiona Villella. When I clicked on the link, I had no idea what it was. I was quite surprised to find a summary and discussion about an underground Australian philosphical vampire film. The film, A Nocturne, is written and directed by Melbourne-based Bill Mousoulis. According to the article, his films rarely fall into genre or conventional narrative categories. Upon reading more, this film appears to do the same, although it does employ a certain genre-reworking. The author gives a good overall summary of the film's ideology. She writes, "As in previous Mousoulis films, A Nocturne sets up an opposition between commerce and art; mainstream and alternative space; the ruthlessness of capitalist society and the humanity of the artist." This is really the best way to describe what the film is about without going into plot details. The vampires are the outcast 'artists' - they are fuelled by passion and desire. The men in suits who go about ordinary life are what the vampires oppose. These people are repressed and passionless, fuelled by commerce, profit, and what have you. What interesting about this is that Mousoulis doesn't leave the film this painfully cut and dry. Though he seems to sympathize with the vampires for their raw passion, he also questions their morality. The vampire (though moved by true and honest desire) is at the core, an 'evil' entity, feeding on the blood of the living victim. He has a character call into question the vampires' so-called revolutionary and oppositional nature. So the film says that while vampires are opposed to a passionless society, they are still problematic in and of themselves. The author writes as the main question of the film, "What remains a truly oppositional way of being?" Because the vampires, while oppositional, have fatal flaws in their way of living (or unliving, I suppose). The film doesn't provide any solutions to the problematic questions it presents. As a viewer, I appreciate this. I like it better when some things are left open to interpretation. One has to take away from a film like this whatever he or she can. It would be nice to actually see this film as opposed to reading about it, but I have a good general idea of the film. I like the metaphor of the vampire to represent a sort of underbelly or repressed side of ordinary society. The vampires in this film represent everything that the common people dis-embrace, or are too afraid to embrace. This film seems as much an abstract work as it does a genre re-working - and these factors definitely make it less tangible but more inviting of viewer interaction in order to draw personal conclusions.

Field Reports, Part III: Seeing sounds.

At the "Break in the Chain of Light" presentation, the first film that really struck a chord with me soundwise was Takashi Makino's Elements of Nothing. It was essentially 19 minutes of abstract forest imagery. But what really made the film was the accompanying soundtrack. The music, which was created by Jim O'Rourke, was incredibly dynamic. The way in which is begins brings to mind a sort of zen-like state. The melody is very slow and sporadic, creating a calming yet unpredictible pattern. This, in conjunction with the odd images, made for a meditative several minutes. Once the film began to evolve, the music did as well. In a way, it lost the peacefulness of earlier and traded it in for a sort of sonic disparity. The music was by no means intrusive or disruptive, but it seemed to distance itself from the viewer. I tried to make the same connection with the sound as I had when the film first started, but it didn't really happen. This certainly was not a bad thing, though. The piano notes in the score crafted an uneasy feeling but still maintained some level of serenity. I don't know exactly how to describe it, but it was similar and different from the first segment of the film. As it went on, the film's images become slightly more clear (in that it was easier to discern trees through the abstract static). Yet the score seemed less discernable at this time. It was at the end of the film when things took a turn. For the last few minutes, the music was all but gone and instead there were other sounds being played. It sounded like a person heavily breathing, but it was distorted somehow. Also, there was the sounded of empty glass bottles clanging together. With these two elements played as the same time, a new feeling arose that did not exist before. It was one of suspense, maybe, or fear. It sounded like the breathing person was trying to get away from something. The image didn't help clarify what was happening, either - it was a very bright whitened screen with no recognizable imagery. This last segment was unexpected; though I suppose that was the filmmaker's intent. The sound/music went from zen-like to uneasily serene to just odd and somewhat disturbing. I didn't really know what was happening, but it was certainly an experience to see and hear. It was as much about the sound as an art form as it was about the images on screen.

The other film from "Break in the Chain of Light" that I really enjoyed was Brilliant Noise by Semiconductor. This film was visually arresting. For me, seeing any sort of footage of outer space or planetary movement is fascinating. The sound in this film was erratic to say the least. It had a loud crackling nature to it. The sheer fact that the sound was created by translating the sun's brightness intensity into audio form was incredible. As I was watching the film, I didn't know this; I though that maybe the sounds was added in as an after-effect to the footage itself. But it's much more interesting to know that the sound was actually imbedded into the NASA files (imbedded but needing to be manipulated to actually be heard). The in and outs of the soundtrack really made for an otherworldly atmosphere. It felt like the film was broken into fragments even more so by the sounds. This is a great example of taking scientific research and turning it into art. This walks the fine line of what constitutes art. Is science art? Or does it have to be manipulated? I don't know, but this film seems to shine a little bit more light on these questions. I highly doubt that NASA considered these files/footage to be art when they were recorded. But who knows? Maybe it took the bridging work of Semiconductor to push this data into an art form. Besides the stunning imagery, these questions are what make a film like this so interesting to me. Another thing I was thinking about the whole I was watching this was the possibility of sound absence. What if this film had no soundtrack at all? I sometimes think that looking at amazing space imagery (stargazing, if you will) is at its best with no sound at all. It makes for a very peaceful and contemplative state of being. I feel like this film would be just as effective if there was a total absence of sound - if it just let the unbelievable yet real images do the work. And I think that the images are strong enough on their own to do this. Another possibility would be a different kind of sound. I think that minimalist ambient music is ideal for stargazing (whether in a film or in real life). It could be something like Brian Eno's Apollo: Atmospheres and Soundtracks. So, in my big tangent, it really just comes down to how I want to see this film. It would be intriguing to see with the film with no sound or with ambient music - to see how that changes the listening and viewing experience.