Thursday, October 18, 2007

What would a magic lantern be without its light source? Now, if we're going for the best, we have a plasma screen as a light source for imagery. The glowing light must be evenly dispersed upon a flat surface, as impulses flex its spectrum through a process called Plasmosis... very photosynthetic.

All right, given the question I'll provide answers to anything. Answering questions help us discover not just more questions but sometimes actual answers.... but for now...

Moving past the medium to the message, anything can happen on that flat surface.

In another mindset, the light projects from a far off source landing flat upon a surface to read as a movie!

Anthology film archives let me have a look in the back for a bulb to put into the movie projector used in the La Mama stage production of TentagatneT. While I was at Anthology one of the TentagatneT actors had a film running there in the Barney Oldfield series, New Filmmakers. They let me watch some and I caught the last 10 minutes. From what I saw, the 30 minute video film, Sequel, was a montage of movies, news clips and silent film titles assembled from library materials and given an ambient wordless sound design by Christopher Zorker (all right, I also spoke with Chris tonight. He was simplifying the motives behind current events).

A film by Janice Ahn called Stutter followed and that took me by surprise. It was a sad character study in 13 minutes, remarkable in its compressed achievement of a harrowing encounter somewhat unstuck in time.

The theme for the evening: New Filmmakers Explore the New American Unreality.

Stutter reveals the sordidity of the date that almost didn't happen. It began well, with the man and woman enjoying the music from the beautiful turntable, the man taking pictures of the woman, but he's loathe to let her go.... He's a big hurt boy in his first floor lair, his grandmother listening from above.

Never again to be trusted. The cycle of abuse progresses...overpowering immaturity, convincing on all levels, his, hers, his grandmother's... The violation, the unpleasantness, the feeling of irrefutable wrongness, selfish brute strength, disturbed and dangerous, feminine strength subdued, the grandmother pulls herself down to the first floor level, apologizes to the woman, just a girl, really, the boy, under his grandmother's supervision, on good behaviour, spent, allowing her to leave. It didn't have to be that way between them, but the boy's damaged mind destroyed the interaction, making it pathetically one-sided, and, yes, angering.

My new play will consider how people can treasure and trust one another.