The slippery fields that are documentary and experimental film have been flooded?dare I say littered? with theoretical posturings, both having been debated ad infinitum.
Bypassing those tired arguments altogether, I will simply list the remarkable (amount of) documentaries in this year?s Wavelengths programme. In the traditional sense, the avant-garde has always formed to rebel against mainstream structure, inertia (societal or stylistic), and conservative and extremist politics. And sometimes the politics of the image alone were (and are in face of preposterous ?film is dead? current Debord-derived lamentations) the source of rabid urgency. After all, art and poetry are well worth fighting for? All to say that it should come as no surprise that experimental and avant-garde film and video makers continue to question the authenticity of the image and to use their art-making to render stylistically beautiful realities not gamely observed, or to fashion insightful and often risky portraits of today?s fervent disorder and trespasses.
Their tenor needn?t be grave, however, as evidenced by Lebanese artist Akram Zaatari?s witty IN THIS HOUSE, a split-screen meditation on absurd situations arising out of conflict. Having learned of a soldier?s unorthodox (and utterly human) gesture, Zaatari set out to uncover a letter which lay hidden away in a family?s garden, unbeknownst to them. Buried in a mortar casing, the note of gratitude was written by a member of a resistance army who had occupied their house for 6 years while Israeli soldiers occupied the adjacent hills in a town not far from Beirut. Zaatari?s approach to the subject is light and playful; he creates a witty diagrammatic schema in response to many of the subjects? refusal to be on camera. Deeply intelligent, In This House is a rare combination of comical and grave, where humanism triumphs.
UN PONT SUR LE DRINA (above) by Xavier Lukomski is, in my opinion, one of the most important docs from the last year. Shot in sumptuous Cinema Scope on 35mm, the film offers exquisite compositions of an ancient bridge which crosses the Drina river at Visegrad. The stately, picture-perfect beauty is juxtaposed with the sound of a war trial testimony, casting horror upon the splendour of the scene?its impact beyond description. The jarring interplay between sound and image foregrounds the language of film and its unique ability to offer a spare but shocking portrait of the unfathomable ills of the world.
The alchemical possibilities of film are showcased in Nicolas Rey?s brazenly original, feature length essay documentary, SCHUSS!. Ostensibly about alpine skiing, the film unfolds mysteriously, making evident the complex relationships between the leisure industry, the manufacturing of aluminum and the history of the cinema, and culminates in a prescient, yet enigmatic take on global capitalism. As a sagacious chronicler of information, Rey, not unlike his French confrère Chris Marker, makes insightful observations whose connections are not always apparent from the outset. The look of the film is as compelling as the subject matter. With a successive use of filters the super 8mm and 16mm material has a distinctive cast to it which speaks to a meticulously hand-made work of art.
Iranian master, Abbas Kiarostami, with a commission from a young festival in Seoul, Korea called the Green festival, has made THE ROADS OF KIAROSTAMI (right), a low-budget documentary musing on his own art: his precisely composed, luscious black and white landscape photographs. He accepted the commission from this environmentally-themed festival, he said, because he is deeply interested in such issues, as evidenced by the recurring landscape in his films and photos. THE TASTE OF CHERRY, arguably, is one of the best landscape films in the history of the cinema. Kiarostami ruminates on why his landscapes depict winding roads, forged paths leading into the horizon, while a montage of those very photographs fills the screen. This deeply personal essay film references Persian poetry and history, ending on a prescient, shocking note, which leaves us pondering, as most of his works do.
While the four works mentioned above are indisputably (or perhaps more traditionally defined) documentaries, other films and videos in the Wavelengths programme approach a shadier area ?of lyricism drawn from reality. Jim Jennings?s SILK TIES renders a sumptuously black and white New York City, owing to the photographic tradition of William Klein and Robert Frank. Rose Lowder?s impressionistic and frenetic three minutes of film ?the final installments in her miniature BOUQUETS series, offers beautiful landscapes in mechanized fits and starts. 3 MINUTEN, an experiment in cinematic time compression by Austrian artist Christoph Brunner, documents the look and feel of a train platform in Passau, Germany, on three separate occasions for a duration of four hours each. During that time, reality has been compressed, its essence spectrally recorded by Brunner?s custom-made, time-lapse camera for which he has begun a series of short, experimental works examining the transformation of reality through time.
Acclaimed Italian photographer, Olivo Barbieri, has embarked on a new series of works, the first of which will be premiered at Wavelengths. SEASCAPE #1 NIGHT CHINA SHENZHEN 05 (right) is a high definition video portrait of a busy beach in Shenzhen, of its revelers, their movements and that of the waves. A multi-layered document of this real-life composition, this video is as much about the real as it is about the language of art.
A similar ethos is shared by SWIVEL, an impossible, obsessive and whimsical portrait of Shanghai created by Oliver Husain?s incessant panning camera. Digitally stitching together views of the city?s interior and exterior realities, SWIVEL is a far cry from cinéma-vérité, and yet, it shows us more of Shanghai in 15 minutes than do most feature-lengths portrayals.
And lastly, the wondrous THE ZONE OF TOTAL ECLIPSE by multi-talented, Helsinki-based Mika Taanila, who is known for both his experimental films and his documentaries, will be projected in dual 16mm to simulate a real-life solar eclipse. The images of sun and moon (and scientific instruments) were taken from cinematic footage documented by Finnish scientists in 1945. This raw matter, excavated from a Finnish archive, is resurrected by Taanila, who recognized its ability to conjure the sublime, as most celestial phenomena do.
Are these documentary impulses to be acknowledged or allowed? In some cases yes, in some no. I think it depends mostly on who you ask?