Skip to main content

Full text of "San Francisco Cinematheque Program Notes"

See other formats


San  Francisco 


fnurfffH 


Cinematheque 


program  notes 


1993 


From  the  collection  of  the 


f  d 

z    n 

z        m 

o  Prelinger 


li 


a 


v    AJibrary 


p 


San  Francisco,  California 
2007 


San   Francisco  Cinematheque 
1993   Program   Notes 


Production  and  Layout: 

David  Gerstein 
Albert  Kilchesty 

Cover: 

Michael  De  Vries 

Written  and  Researched  by: 

Steve  Anker 
Lana  Bernberg 
Chris  Bishop 
Elizabeth  Dee 
Susanne  Fairfax 
David  Gerstein 
Lissa  Gibbs 
Albert  Kilchesty 
Gina  Lehmann 
Colby  Luckenbill 
Ariel  O'Donnell 
Michael  Roth 
Michelle  Sabol 
E.  S.  Theise 

©  Copyright  1994  by  the  San  Francisco  Cinematheque.  No  material  may  be  reproduced  without  written 
permission  from  the  publisher.  All  individual  essays  ©  to  the  individual  authors. 

San  Francisco  Cinematheque,  Sept.  1993 — Aug.  1994: 

Staff 
Steve  Anker,  Artistic  Director 
David  Gerstein,  Executive  Director 

Albert  Kilchesty,  Administrative  Manager  (Sept.  93 — June  94) 
Irina  Leimbacher,  Office  Manager  (June -Aug.  94) 

Board  of  Directors 
Charles  Boone 
Linda  Gibson 
Lynn  Hershman 
Ariel  O'Donnell 
Lynne  Sachs  (through  Feb.  94) 
Scott  Taylor 

Eric  S.  Theise  (through  Apr.  94) 
Michael  Wallin 


Table  of  Contents 

1993  Program  Notes 

1 

Artist  Index 

83 

Title  Index 

85 

1993  Program  Notes 

silt:  EROSIONS  AND  ACCRETIONS 
Artists  Christian  Farrell  &  Jeff  Warrin  in  person 

February  4,  1993 

Silt:  a  word  which  when  you  utter  it,  letting  the  air  slip  thinly  between  your  teeth,  invokes  a  slow,  sly 
insinuating  agency.  Silt:  which  shapes  and  undermines  continents;  which  demolishes  as  it  builds,  which  is 
simultaneous  accretion  and  erosion;  neither  progress  nor  decay. 

—Graham  Swift 


silt  is  a  three-member  San  Francisco-based  collaborative  film  group  (Keith  Evans,  Christian  Farrell,  and  Jeff 
Warrin)  which  has  been  working  in  Super-8mm  since  1990. 

All  films  Super-8mm,  color/b&w,  silent  w/sound-on-cassette 

Grapefruitfilm  (1990,  2.5  minutes)  Our  first  experiment!  We  crammed  found  footage  inside  a  grapefruit 
and  left  it  to  rot  for  a  month  before  rephotographing  it. 

The  Emerald  Palace  (1990,  2.5  minutes)  A  tribute  to  an  old,  majestic  building  in  downtown  Seattle 
demolished  a  few  days  after  the  film  was  shot.  The  conjuring  of  a  ghost  and  the  fading  of  a  memory. 

ATION  PROGR  (1992,  2.5  minutes)  Three  stanza,  haiku-structured  film  about  Old  Glory. 

Nearby,  A  Female  is  Shedding  (1992,  6  minutes)  Native  documentary  footage  rephotographed  off 
television,  hand-processed,  and  left  in  the  muddy  bottom  of  an  evaporating  marsh,  where  it  soaked  and  baked 
for  many  weeks. 

"...wandering   in   the  dark."  *  (1992,  4.5  minutes)  Shot  during  a  10-minute  break  in  a  three -day 
thunderstorm — left  out  in  the  rain,  treated  with  a  corrosive  and  dyed  with  coffee,  chlorophyll,  burgundy  wine, 
and  blackberries. 
*  see  A.  Tarkovsky.  Sculpting  in  Time,  p.99 

KUCH  NAI  (color,  45  minutes) 

A  document  of  correspondence  in  writings  and  Super-8  film  between  Christian,  traveling  in  Northern  India, 
and  Jeff  and  Keith  in  S.F.  A  three-way  journal  examining  the  nature  of  experience  and  re -experience  through 
multiple  layers  and  generations  of  images,  sounds,  and  words. 


The  San  Francisco  Cinematheque  and  Film  Arts  Foundation  present 

UNMOORED  MEDIA:  AN  EVENING  WITH 

DRIFT  DISTRIBUTION 

Drift  Executive  Director  Brian  Goldberg  in  person 

February  7,  1993 

Derive  [drift]:  a  mode  of  experimental  behavior  linked  to  the  conditions  of  urban  society;  a  technique  of 
transient  passage  through  varied  ambiances.* 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Since  its  founding  in  the  late  1980s.  New  York's  Drift  Distribution  has  championed  some  of  the  most  daring 
and  socially-charged  contemporary  independent  media.  Drift's  expanding  media  collection  emphasizes 
contemporary  experimental  narratives  and  documentary  film  and  video.  Drift's  mission  is  to  bring 
challenging,  new  works  to  a  wide  and  diverse  audience,  and  to  contribute  to  the  future  health  of  alternative 
media  through  flexible  and  responsive  attention  to  the  contours  of  the  field. 

This  evening,  Brian  Goldberg,  co-founder  and  current  Executive  Director  of  Drift,  will  present  a  program  of 
recent  Drift  acquisitions,  and  will  discuss  strategies  that  Drift  uses  in  reaching  new  audiences.  Part  I  of  the 
program  is  comprised  of  short  works,  including  the  World  Premiere  of  local  artist  Greta  Snider's  new  film. 
Our  Gay  Brothers;  Part  II  features  the  Bay  Area  premiere  of  Harun  Farocki's  Images  of  the  World  and  the 
Inscription  of  War.  Goldberg  will  speak  before  the  program  and  will  answer  questions  from  the  audience 
during  the  break. 

Skullfuck  (1992),  Joe  Kelly  and  Danny  Fass;  3/4"  video,  color,  sound,  1  minute 

DHPG  Mon  Amour  (1989),  Carl  George;  16mm  from  Super-8  original,  color,  sound,  13  mins. 

Put  Your  Lips  Around  Yes  (1991),  John  Lindell:  3/4"  video,  b&w,  sound,  4  mins. 

Through  the  Door  (1992),  Lana  C.  Lin;  16mm,  color,  sound,  2  mins. 

Candy  Tangerine  Man  (1991),  Jonathan  Horowitz;  3/4"  video,  color,  sound,  6  mins. 

finally  destroy  us  (1991),  Tom  Kalin;  3/4"  video,  color,  sound,  4  mins. 

The  Truth  About  Abraham  Lincoln  (1992),  Matthew  Buckingham;  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  20  mins. 

Our  Gay  Brothers  (1993),  Greta  Snider;  16mm,  World  Premiere 


Images  of  the  World  and  the  Inscription  of  War  (1988/89),  Harun  Farocki;  16mm,  color,  sound,  75 
mins. 

Farocki's  film  "deals"  with  war,  the  production  of  images  and  photography  as  a  medium  of  "enlightenment." 
There  is  a  double  meaning  in  this  term  which  Farocki  uses  dramaturgically.  "Enlightenment"  [Aufklarung,  in 
German]  is  a  term  from  intellectual  history,  as  well  as  a  term  from  military  and  police  language 
("reconnaissance"). 

One  can  "enlighten"  through  photography  in  order  to  preserve  things.  But  one  can  also  use  enlightenment 
("reconnaissance")  for  destruction,  like  the  bombers  in  the  Second  World  War.  Enlightenment  and 
destruction  come  together  in  the  medium  of  photography. 

In  the  center  of  Farocki's  essay  film  is  a  "reconnaissance  photograph"...  On  April  4,  1944,  from  points  in 
Italy,  American  bombers  began  flying  over  targets  in  Silesia.  Cameras,  which  were  mistakenly  operated  too 
earlv.  photographed  Auschwitz  while  flying  over  the  construction  site  of  the  IG  Farben  factories.  But  the 
photo  analysts  in  England  only  saw  that  which  they  already  recognized:  they  saw  from  a  7000  meter  altitude  a 
power  plant  and  a  carbide  factory.  They  didn't  recognize  the  lines  of  people  in  front  of  the  gas  chambers, 
because  it  wasn't  their  job  to  look  for  a  camp.  Auschwitz  was  never  bombed. 

Farocki  connects  the  perspective  from  above,  the  aerial  shots,  with  the  perspective  from  below,  with  images 
drawn  by  the  prisoner  Alfred  Kantor.  That  which  was  only  partly  visible  from  above  becomes  painfully  clear. 
Kantor  wanted  to  visualize  and  preserve  the  horror  of  the  camp  in  his  sketches,  to  attest  to  this  incredible 
reality  with  a  visual  testimony.  The  Nazis,  the  SS,  also  photographed  in  Auschwitz.  They  photographed  the 
people  on  the  selection  ramp. 


1993  Program  Notes 

Farocki  understands  and  interprets  these  images  as  inseriptions  of  war  from  the  perspective  of  the  victims  as 
well  as  of  the  perpetrators.  He  ties  the  images  together  in  a  visual  essay,  in  a  text  which  speaks  from  and 
about  the  images.  Farocki's  questioning  of  images — with  a  dramaturgic  sense  of  repetition,  pauses, 
intensification — brings  seemingly  disparate  elements  together  in  a  classic  syllogism  and  "enlightens,"  not  in 
the  military  sense,  but  in  the  sense  of  a  "critique  of  knowledge."  One  doesn't  necessarily  see  only  that  which 
one  knows — at  least  not  when  one  looks  carefully  enough. 

— Klaus  Gronenborn 

Zelluloid,  28/29,  May  1989 

*from  "Definitions"  in  Ken  Knabb,  editor  and  translator,  Situationist  International  Anthology  [Berkeley: 
Bureau  of  Public  Secrets,  1981],  page  45. 


THREE  DOMESTIC  INTERIORS  by  Lynn  Kirby 
Filmmaker  Lynn  Kirby  in  person 

February  11,  1993 

My  interest  in  movement,  sound  and  light  led  me  from  sculpture,  and  performance  to  film  in  the  late  70s,  yet 
I  continue  to  explore  ideas  in  sound  pieces  and  installations  which  are  for  me  a  more  immediate  way  of 
working.  — Lynn  Kirby 

Sharon  and  the  Birds  on  the  Way  to  the  Wedding  (1987);  16mm,  color,  sound,  35  minutes 

This  is  a  film  about  the  language  and  perception  of  love  and  romance.  The  film  blurs  the  line  between  fact  and 
fiction,  personal  and  cultural  experience.  "She  found  that  the  truth  didn't  sound  real.  She  did  research.  She 
went  through  the  magazines.  She  found  that  there  existed  a  magazine  kind  of  love  that  had  a  vocabulary  of 
about  twelve  words.  She  found  that  if  she  rearranged  these  twelve  words  around  different  names  and  places 
that  could  make  a  story."  (Canyon  Cinema  Catalogue  #7) 

"In  Sharon  and  the  Birds  on  the  Way  to  the  Wedding  I  have  been  interested  in  how  stories  are  told  and  in 
how  the  telling  of  stories  is  effected  by  who  is  narrating  the  story.  How  do  the  narratives  of  our  cultural  myths 
get  told  and  how  is  our  personal  perception  of  our  own  narratives  changed  as  we  tell  our  stories.  Does  the 
story  change  with  a  different  voice?  Is  the  story  different  if  we  perceive  it  to  be  a  factual  (documentary)  story 
or  a  fictitious  (dramatic)  story? 

Sharon  and  the  Birds  on  the  Way  to  the  Wedding  is  a  film  about  conflicting  perceptions  of  love,  romance  and 
marriage:  the  romantic  and  the  pragmatic,  the  subjective  experience  and  the  cultural  description,  the  fictional 
and  the  real.  The  character,  Sharon,  is  narrator  and  the  character  of  her  own  dramas."  (Lynn  Kirby) 

Three  Domestic  Interiors  (1993);  16mm,  color,  sound,  45  minutes,  World  Premiere 

Three  Domestic  Interiors  stars  Paula  Alexander,  Lewis  Gannet  and  Marie  Senkfor.  The  film  is  a  domestic 
triptych:  the  lives  of  three  people  as  seen  through  each  character's  living  room  environment.  The  characters 
talk  casually  over  the  telephone  of  their  lives  and  experiences,  directed  perhaps  to  each  other,  perhaps  to  some 
outside  audience.  "The  power  of  these  characters  resides  in  the  force  of  memory  that  allows  each  to  create  and 
then  tell  her  or  his  own  story,  just  as  each  has  organized  the  very  elements  of  her  or  his  home  by  choosing 
and  then  arranging  pieces  of  furniture." 


3 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Using  the  surface  textual  qualities  of  video  and  the  deep  spatial  qualities  of  film  to  deconstruct  the  spatial 
attributes  of  each  medium.  Three  Domestic  Interiors,  fractures  the  plane  of  the  screen.  This  play  of  space, 
mirrors  a  play  in  time  in  the  construction  of  each  characters'  narrative.  The  stories  are  developed  in  parallel  as 
deconstructed,  faceted  narratives,  built  up  out  of  patterns  of  conversation,  fragments  of  furniture  in  the 
characters  environments  and  memories.  The  telephone  is  the  common  link  to  the  outside  world.  Parallels 
aspects  of  their  lives  emerge  as  they  tell  their  stories.  An  off-screen  space  is  constructed  for  each  character  on 
the  sound  track.  This  sound  is  a  psychological  sound  portrait  of  each  character  as  well  as  a  sound  narrative  of 
each  character's  daily  life. 

Three  Domestic  Interiors  works  on  the  border  line  between  the  traditions  of  narrative  and  documentary  and 
between  the  traditions  of  film  and  video.  Just  as  there  are  overlaps  in  these  forms,  there  are  moments  when 
the  character's  parallel  histories  intersect  the  circular  time  of  memory  as  "today's  Sunday  is  not  so  different 
from  last  week's."  The  viewer  is  invited  to  reflect  on  family  ties  as  "the  interaction  of  three  voices,  three 
bodies  and  three  rooms  creates  a  milieu  for  the  flourishing  of  one's  own  contemplation." 

(Lynn  Kirby;  quotations  from  Lynne  Sachs) 

Filmography: 

It  Gets  Bumpy  (1976) 

C.C.Beam  Goes  for  a  Walk  (1978) 

Sincerely  (1980) 

Across  the  Street  (1982) 

Deciduous  (1982) 

Love,  Lynn  (1982) 

Prelude  (1982) 

Three  Voices  (1983) 

Sharon  and  the  Birds  on  the  Way  to  the  Wedding  (1987) 

Fish  and  Liposuction  (1990) 

Three  Domestic  Interiors  (1993) 


DOUGLAS  SIRK  -  HIGH  &  LOW 

February  14,1993 

There  is  a  very  short  distance  between  high  art  and  trash,  and  trash  that  contains  the  element  of  craziness  is  by 
this  very  quality  nearer  to  art. 

— Douglas  Sirk 

Though  not  a  creative  film  maker,  he  is  a  completely  honest  adaptor  whose  films  are  usually  as  good  as  their 
literary  origins  or  the  scripts  based  on  them. 

— George  Sadoul,  Dictionary  of  Film  Makers,  1972 

Tonight's  show  includes  rare  features  from  the  German  and  Hollywood  phases  of  Sirk's  career:  La  Habanera 
(1937)  and  Sign  of  the  Pagan  (1954). 

Douglas  Sirk  (born  Hans  Detlef  Sierck  in  1900)  worked  for  some  fifteen  years  as  a  theater  director  in  the  vital 
and  incandescent  atmosphere  of  Weimar  Germany.  In  1934  he  moved  into  the  cinema  and  made  several 
successful  melodramas,  including  Zu  neuen  Ufern  and  La  Habanera.  In  1937  he  left  Germany  and  made  his 
way,  via  France  and  Holland,  to  America.  In  Hollywood  he  was  under  contract  first  to  Columbia  and  then  to 
Universal.  With  these  studios  he  was  rarely  able  to  film  his  own  projects,  but  he  was  nearly  always  able  to 


1993  Program  Notes 

"bend"  the  stories  and  transcend  the  material,  particularly  in  the  melodrama.  All  his  films  show  the  vision, 
style,  and  daring  to  deal  with  the  toughest  situations  in  two  disintegrating  societies.  In  I960  Sirk  retired  to 
Germany  and  Switzerland,  where  he  died  in  1987. 

La  Habanera  (1937);  16mm,  b&w,  sound.  98  minutes,  in  German  with  English  subtitles 
Production  Company:  Ufa;  Producer:  Bruno  Duday;  Script:  Gerhard  Menzel;  Director  of  Photography:  Franz 
Weihmayr:  Music:  Lothar  Briihne;  Cast:  Zarah  Lcander  (Astree  Sternhjelm),  Julia  Serda  (Ana  Sternhjelm), 
Ferdinand  Marian  (Don  Pedro  de  Avila),  Edwin  Jiirgensen  (Shumann),  Michael  Schulz-Dornburg  (Little 
Juan),  a.o. 

Auf  einer  Kreuzfahrt  nach  Puerto  Rico,  die  sie  gemeinsam  mit  ihrer  Tante  Ana  unternimmt,  verliebt  sich 
Astree  von  Sternhjelm  Hals  iiber  Kopf  in  den  reichen  GroBgrundbesitzer  Don  Pedro  de  Avila.  Sie  verlaBt  das 
Schiff  und  heiratet  ihn.  Zehn  Jahre  spater  ist  die  Ehe  am  Ende.  Astrde  ist  einsam  und  ungliicklich,  sie  hafit  die 
Sonne  und  die  Hitze,  nur  ihr  Sohn  verschafft  ihr  Trostung.  Die  Insel  wird  von  einer  Seuche  heimgesucht, 
doch  Don  Pedro  vertuscht  die  Angelegenhcit,  um  seine  Exporte  nicht  zu  gefahrden.  Er  behindert  die 
Nachforschungen  Dr.  Sven  Nagels,  eines  jungen  schwedischen  Arztes,  dcr  auf  die  Insel  gekommen  ist,  um 
die  mysteriose  Krankheit  zu  untersuchen.  Als  Don  Pedro  selbst  daran  stirbt,  verlaBt  Astrde  die  Insel  in 
Begleitung  des  Doktors. 

(On  a  cruise  to  Puerto  Rico  with  Ana  her  aunt,  Astrde  Sternhjelm  falls  in  love  at  first  sight  with  a  big  local 
landlord,  Don  Pedro  de  Avila.  She  jumps  ship  and  marries  him.  Ten  years  later  the  marriage  is  on  the  rocks. 
Astrde  is  alone  and  wretched,  hating  the  sun  and  the  heat,  with  only  her  young  son  for  solace.  A  young 
Swedish  doctor.  Dr.  Sven  Nagel,  arrives  to  investigate  a  mysterious  disease  on  the  island.  Don  Pedro  is 
attempting  to  cover  it  up,  to  protect  his  fruit  trade.  At  a  lavish  party,  he  collapses  by  his  own  pool,  and  Astrde 
leaves  for  Sweden  with  the  doctor.) 

Sign  of  the  Pagan  (1954);  16mm,  color,  sound,  92  minutes 

Production  company:  Universal;  Producer:  Albert  J.  Cohen;  Script:  Oscar  Brodney,  Barre  Lyndon;  Director 
of  Photography:  Russel  Metty;  Editors:  Milton  Carruth.  Al  Clark;  Art  Directors:  Alexander  Golitzen,  Emrich 
Nicholson;  Music:  Frank  Skinner,  Hans  J.  Salter,  Joseph  Gershenson;  Cast:  Jeff  Chandler  (Marcianus),  Jack 
Palance  (Attila).  Ludmilla  Tcherina  (Princess  Pulcheria),  Rita  Gam  (Kubra),  Jeff  Morrow  (Paulinus),  George 
Dolenz  (Theodosius),  Eduard  Franz  (Astrologer),  a.o. 

0:  Well,  there's  Sign  of  the  Pagan,  which  (...)  needs  discussing,  because  this  seems  a  slightly  bizarre 
component  in  your  work  (...)? 

A:  I'll  tell  you  about  this  picture.  I  was  handed  the  script  rather  late  by  the  studio.  At  that  time  we  did  have 
one  star  around.  Jeff  Chandler.  He  had  read  the  script,  but  had  refused  to  play  the  Attila  part.  (...)  I  was  stuck 
with  the  Sign  of  the  Pagan  script  and  a  star  who  did  not  want  to  play  the  lead.  Now,  apart  from  Chandler  the 
studio  had  one  other  person  they  were  trying  to  promote,  Ludmilla  Tcherina.  All  she  could  do  was  dance — 
though  I  got  on  well  with  her.  She  had  a  good  body,  but  she  could  do  nothing  with  her  face.  Any  emotions 
she  may  have  had  must  have  gone  straight  down  to  her  feet. 

I  needed  someone  to  play  the  all-important  Attila  part,  and  the  picture  was  in  a  hurry.  Chandler's 
definite  attitude  was  that  he  had  to  be  the  good  guy,  a  screen  lover,  and  that  it  would  be  bad  for  his  career  to 
play  what  he  called  the  heavy.  I  think  he  liked  the  idea  of  himself  striding  around  in  a  toga  and  all  that. 
Whereas  my  position  was  that  the  only  interesting  thing  in  the  story  was  the  fury  of  Attila.  (...)  I  honestly  told 
Chandler  this:  that  in  my  shooting  of  the  picture  the  center  of  attention  would  be  Attila.  He  still  wouldn't  hear 
of  it.  "Let  them  love  me,"  he  said.  And  I  wasn't  unhappy.  Chandler  wouldn't  have  been  able  to  bring  out  the 
twilighty  aspect  of  the  character. 

Now,  there  was  a  lesser-known  actor  around.  Jack  Palance.  He  was  famous,  but  not  a  leading  man. 
The  exhibitors  didn't  like  him.  I  screened  one  of  his  pictures  and  I  reckoned  he  might  be  all  right  in  the  part,  if 
he  had  the  strength  to  carry  the  picture.  I  pretty  soon  found  out  he  did  have  sufficient  presence  on  the  screen. 
(...)  I  said  to  Chandler:  "Look  out,  because  the  part  of  the  Hun  is  going  to  dominate  the  movie."  But  he  just 
said:  "I've  never  been  upstaged  by  a  heavy."  And,  as  you  know,  it  came  out  Palance's  film. 

— Sirk  on  Sirk,  Interviews  with  Jon  Halliday.  The  Viking  Press,  New  York,  1972 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Filmography: 

1935:  April,  April;  Das  Mddchen  vom  Moorhof.  Stiitzen  der  Gesellschaft 

1936:  Schluflakkord;  Das  Hofkonzert 

1937:  Zu  neuen  Ufern;  La  Habanera 

1942:  Hitler's  Madman 

1944:  Summer  Storm 

1945:  A  Scandal  in  Paris 

1946:  Lured /Personal  Column 

1947:  Sleep,  My  Love 

1948:  Slightly  French;  Shockproof 

1950:  The  First  Legion;  Mystery  Submarine 

1951:  Thunder  on  the  Hill;  The  Lady  Pays  Off;  Weekend  with  Father;  Has  Anybody  Seen 

My  Gal? 
1952:  No  Room  for  the  Groom;  Meet  Me  at  the  Fair;  Take  Me  to  the  Town 
1953:  All  I  Desire;  Taza,  Son  of  Cochise;  Magnificent  Obsession 
1954:  Sign  of  the  Pagan;  Captain  Lightfoot 
1955:  All  That  Heaven  Allows;  There's  Always  Tomorrow 
1956:  Written  on  the  Wind;  Battle  Hymn;  Interlude 
1957:  The  Tarnished  Angels,  A  Time  to  Love  and  a  Time  to  Die 
1958:  Imitation  of  Life 


The  San  Francisco  Cinematheque  and  Frameline  present 

RULES  OF  THE  ROAD  by  Su  Friedrich 
Filmmaker  Su  Friedrich  in  person 

February  18,  1993 

"The  critique  of  conventional  cinema  that  is  articulated  in  Su  Fricdrich's  films  has  roots  in  two  different 
cultural  projects:  the  development  of  North  American  avant-garde  cinema  and  the  recent  feminist 
reassessment  of  modern  society  (and  of  the  popular  and  independent  cinema).  Each  of  her  films  represents  a 
different  combination  of  these  sources,  and  she  has  demonstrated  her  loyalty  to  both  in  her  extra-film 
activities  ...  Her  particular  gift  has  been  to  find  ways  of  combining  cinematically  experimental  means  and  a 
powerful  feminist  commitment  in  films  that,  increasingly,  are  accessible  to  a  broad  range  of  viewers,  even  to 
viewers  unaccustomed  to  enjoying  either  experimental  or  feminist  filmmaking.  This  accessibility  is,  to  a  large 
degree,  a  function  of  Friedrich's  willingness  to  use  her  filmmaking  to  explore  the  particulars  of  her  personal 
experience.  And  her  success  in  reaching  audiences  represents  a  powerful  attack  on  the  assumption  that 
viewers  will  only  respond  to  conventional  film  rhetoric." 

— Scott  MacDonald,/*  Critical  Cinema  2  (University  of  California,  1992) 

Sink  or  Swim  (1990);  16mm,  b&w,  sound.  48  minutes 

Through  a  series  of  twenty-six  short  stories,  a  young  girl  recounts  the  events  that  shaped  her  childhood  and 
formed  her  adult  perceptions  of  fatherhood,  family,  work  and  play.  The  stories  arc  told  in  a  simple,  direct 
manner,  but  are  full  of  ambiguity,  confused  loyalties,  and  an  apprehension  of  danger  and  loss. 

Most  of  the  stories  focus  on  the  girl's  relationship  to  her  father,  a  man  she  both  adores  and  fears.  He  is  the  one 
who  introduces  her  to  the  larger  world  and  teaches  her  to  navigate  through  it.  Like  most  children,  the  girl  has 
no  distance  from  her  experiences;  she  cannot  contextualize  his  behavior  or  recognize  its  source  in  his  own 
past.  Her  task  and  desire  is  to  meet  his  challenges  and  withstand  his  punishments,  but  finally  she  is  expected 


1993  Program  Notes 

to  understand  what  is  beyond  any  child's  comprehension:  that  her  father  would  leave  his  family,  leave  her,  to 
start  a  new  life  elsewhere. 

Throughout  Sink  or  Swim,  the  usual  distinctions  between  childhood  and  the  adult  world  are  blurred,  as  the 
stories,  clearly  written  by  a  woman,  are  spoken  by  a  young  girl.  By  combining  the  unmediated  experiences  of 
the  child  with  the  critical,  reflective  stance  of  the  adult,  the  fertile  tension  between  the  two  worlds  is  exposed. 
We  see  what  a  child  can  know,  and  what  an  adult  can  know  when  her  memories  are  shorn  of  the  usual 
nostalgia  and  romance.  Towards  the  end  of  the  film,  we  are  brought  into  the  present,  when  the  woman  is 
forced  to  relive  her  childhood  during  an  encounter  with  her  father's  young  daughter  from  another  marriage. 
The  profound  connection  between  past  and  present,  between  memory  and  daily  life,  is  then  revealed  in  all  its 
harsh  symmetry. 

The  images  used  in  conjunction  with  the  stories  reinforce  this  tension,  and  further  complicate  the  relationship 
between  the  two  perspectives.  The  child's  world  is  a  shifting,  mutable  place,  as  much  a  product  of  fantasy  as  it 
is  a  hard  material  fact.  Although  quite  spectacular,  it  is  also  full  of  the  constraints  imposed  by  adults,  who 
have  either  abandoned  or  lost  touch  with  their  imaginary  world.  In  response,  the  images  attempt  to  recapture 
some  of  that  blend  of  sensuality,  longing  and  awareness  of  loss  that  existed  in  the  young  girl,  and  that  exists 
in  all  children. 

Rules  of  the  Road  (1993);  16mm,  color,  sound,  30  minutes.  West  Coast  premiere 

"It's  about  a  station  wagon.  It's  also  about  leaving  a  lover,  about  sharing  and  then  losing  objects."  (Su 

Friedrich) 

As  in  her  earlier  widely  celebrated  films,  Friedrich  confronts  haunting  memories  of  intimate  (in  this  case, 
romantic)  relationships  through  verbal  anecdotes  and  suggestive  imagery.  This  time,  however,  the  voice  is 
Friedrich's  own,  exploring  the  intersections  between  desire,  memory  and  unavoidable  reminders  of  lost  love. 

Filmography: 

Hot  Water  (1978),  Super-8mm,  b&w,  silent,  12  minutes 

Cool  Hands,  Warm  Heart  (1979),  16mm,  b&w,  silent,  17  minutes 

Scar  Tissue  (1979)  16mm,  b&w,  silent,  7  minutes/ 18fps 

/  Suggest  Mine  (1980),  16mm,  b&w/color,  silent,  6  minutes 

Gently  Down  the  Stream  (1981),  16mm,  b&w,  silent,  14  minutes/18fps 

But  No  One  (1982),  16mm,  b&w.  silent,  9  minutes 

The  Ties  That  Bind  (1984),  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  55  minutes 

Damned  If  You  Don't  (1987),  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  41  minutes 

Sink  or  Swim  (1990),  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  48  minutes 

First  Comes  Love  (1991),  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  22  minutes 

Rules  of  the  Road  (1993),  16mm,  color,  sound,  30  minutes 


NEW  FROM  CANYON  CINEMA 

February  21,  1993 

Geography  of  the  Body  (1943).  by  Willard  Maas;  16mm,  b&w,  sound.  7  minutes 
An  analogical  pilgrimage  evokes  the  terrors  and  splendors  of  the  human  body  as  the  undiscovered, 
mysterious  continent.    Extreme  magnification  increases  the  ambiguity  of  the  visuals,  tongue-in-cheek 
commentary  counteracts  or  reinforces  their  sexual  implications.    The  method  is  that  used  by  the  imagist- 
symbolist  poet. 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Films  by  Stan  Brakhage:  An  Avant-Garde  Home  Movie  (1962).  by  Stan  Brakhage;  16mm.  b&w. 
silent.  3.75  minutes 

"I  had  a  camera  with  which  I  could  make  multiple  superimpositions  spontaneously.  It  had  been  lent  to  me 
tor  a  week.  I  was  also  given  a  couple  of  rolls  of  color  film  which  had  been  through  an  intensive  fire.  The 
chance  that  the  film  would  not  record  any  image  at  all  left  me  tree  to  experiment  and  to  try  to  create  the  sense 
of  the  daily  world  in  which  we  live,  and  what  it  meant  to  me..  1  wanted  to  record  our  home,  and  yet  deal  with 
it  as  being  that  area  from  which  the  films  by  Stan  Brakhage  arise,  and  to  try  to  make  one  arise  at  the  same 
time..."  (Stan  Brakhage) 

Spitting  Image  (1992),  by  Paula  Froehle;  16mm,  3  minutes 

Spitting  Image  ...  involves  a  personal  narrative  about  the  struggle  to  free  oneself  of  the  haunting  memories  of 
one's  past.  Its  title  is  intended  to  convey  both  the  literal  and  connotative  meanings  of  the  words — Spitting 
Image,  connotatively,  meaning  to  be  of  one's  likeness;  literally,  a  "spitting"  image  would  be  one  that  mocks 
or  repulses  the  viewer.  The  imagery  is  a  quickly  edited  montage  of  references  to  the  past  optically  printed  in 
an  attempt  to  reconstruct  them  in  a  more  suitable  form. 

Two   early  films:    Quick   Constant  and  Solid    Instant,   Wedding  (1969),  by  Winston  Wheeler 

Dixon;  16mm,  color/b&w,  sound,  10  minutes 

Quick  Constant  and  Solid  Instant  features  John  Wellington,  a  British  painter.  Rod  Townley,  and  Gerard 

Malanga  on  the  soundtrack,  doing  a  poetry  reading  at  Rutgers  University.  Also  in  the  film,  the  Fluxus  Group 

stages  a  Fluxmass  at  Vorhees  Chapel  at  Douglass  College,  a  rather  controversial  event  at  the  time,  and  now 

part  of  performance  art  history. 

Wedding  is  [a]  heartbreaker  ...  I  photographed  the  wedding  of  two  dear  friends  in  the  spring  of  1969, 

gathering  together  in  film  some  of  the  strongest  relationships  of  my  adolescence.  Soundtrack:  "Sanctus"  from 

Gabriel  Faure's  Requiem  Mass. 

Fest  (1991),  by  Kurt  Kren;  16mm,  color,  sound-on-tape,  3.25  minutes,  U.S.  Premiere 
In  1991  Wolfgang  Ainberger,  program  director  of  "Kunstucke"  at  Orfll  (Austrian  television)  asked  me  to 
make  a  coverage  of  the  festival  "10  Jahre  Kunstucke"  at  the  Museum  fur  Angewandte  Kunst  for  Orfll.  Fest 
was  the  result. 

Fetal  Pig  Anatomy  (1989),  by  Heather  McAdams;  16mm,  sound,  5  minutes 

I  got  tired  of  making  funny  films  and  came  up  with  a  rather  upsetting  montage  film  that  I  later  combined  with 
an  equally  upsetting  soundtrack  that  a  friend  made.  The  film  has  something  to  do  with  that  whole  idea  that 
there's  a  button  somewhere  that  some  asshole  can  press  that  will  blow  up  the  whole  world. 

Spring  (1991),  by  Thomas  Korschil;  16mm,  color,  silent,  3  minutes 

To  move  the  world  (and  thus  the  mind!)  with  one's  eyes,  to  put  (part  of)  it  into  a  box  (like  we  do)  and  shake 

it,  gently,  as  to  bring  its  (the  world's,  the  mind's)  particles  to  life  (again),  for  the  first  time,  to  seek  some  sense 

out  of  it— "all." 

A  souvenir,  capturing  (in  vain!)  time  (lost),  passing  us  by  like  the  shadow  of  a  fast-moving  cloud.  (Inertia!) 

Still,  "a  sweet  film." 

Satrapy  (1988),  by  Scott  Stark;  16mm,  color,  sound,  13  minutes 

This  film  was  made  by  contact-printing  rolls  of  35mm  slide  film  onto  16mm  movie  film.  The  result  is  a 
collage  of  fragments  of  larger  still  images.  Since  the  images  overlap  onto  the  optical  soundtrack  area  of  the 
16mm  film,  the  images  actually  generate  their  own  sounds.  Crude  musical  rhythms  and  tonalities  are  created 
based  on  visual  rather  than  aural  cues. 

SideTRACKED  (1992),  by  Leslie  Alperin;  16mm,  color,  sound,  22  minutes 

"SideTRACKED — my  rendition  of  a  feminist  quest  film — sets  the  story  of  a  woman's  personal  journey 
through  Western  Europe  against  the  larger  experience  of  travel.  The  mythology  of  travel  is  juxtaposed  with 
the  mythology  of  romance,  and  the  woman's  journey  becomes  a  catalyst  for  reflection  on  the  relationship 
between  personal  expectations  and  cultural  myths."  (Leslie  Alperin) 


1993  Program  Notes 

ERNIE  GEHR:  A  RETROSPECTIVE 
Artist  Ernie  Gehr  in  person  at  ail  shows 

Program  I 

February  25,  1993 

Ernie  Gehr:  A  Retrospective  includes  four  different  programs  featuring  fifteen  films  made  between  the 
years  1968  and  1993.  The  highlight  of  the  retrospective  is  the  World  Premiere  of  Daniel  Willi,  March  April 
May  1992  on  Program  IV,  Sunday,  March  7.  Program  II  will  be  presented  on  Sunday,  February  28  and 
Program  III  on  Thursday,  March  4. 

The  Cinematheque  has  published  a  limited  edition,  signed  monograph — The  Films  of  Ernie  Gehr — in 
conjunction  with  the  retrospective.  The  monograph  includes  new  writing  on  Gehr's  films  by  Tom  Gunning, 
Susan  Thackrey.  Daniel  Eisenberg,  and  Robert  Becklen;  a  complete  filmography;  a  bibliography;  and  original 
photographs  by  Ernie  Gehr.  The  monograph  will  be  on  sale  at  all  screenings  during  the  retrospective. 

Morning  (1968);  16mm,  color,  silent,  4.5  minutes 

Wait  (1968);  16mm,  color,  silent,  7  minutes 

Reverberation  (1969);  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  25  minutes 

Transparency  (1969);  16mm,  color,  silent,  11  minutes 

History  (1970);  16mm,  b&w,  silent,  10  minutes  (excerpted  from  40  minute  original) 

Field  (1970);  16mm,  b&w,  silent,  9.5  minutes 

Watching  an  Ernie  Gehr  film  is  an  experience  unlike  any  other.  With  an  almost  ascetic  severity,  he  excludes 
the  expression  of  affect  from  his  work.  Yet  the  films  are  no  mere  formal  experiments  or  academic  exercises: 
a  full  viewing  of  one  of  them  leaves  the  viewer  more  aware,  more  vitally  alive. 

Gehr's  films  can  seem  deceptively  simple  upon  first  viewing.  They  generally  concentrate  on  a  single  subject 
(subjects  can  range  from  a  brick  wall  seen  through  falling  snow  to  the  city  of  Berlin)  depicted  through  one  or 
more  rather  visible  techniques.  In  Reverberation,  grainy  black  and  white  images  of  street  scenes  are 
rephotographed  at  varying  speeds;  in  Table,  views  of  a  table  are  seen  through  different  colored  filters,  intercut 
with  dazzling  rapidity.  Yet  when  one  watches  these  films,  something  odd  happens.  One  does  not  see  past  or 
through  the  visible  technique,  images,  or  subject  matter  to  some  other  subject;  instead,  one's  attention  is 
absorbed  by  the  perceptual  experience  offered  by  the  work.  Awareness  is  focused  on  the  actual  act  of  seeing 
the  films. 

A  conventional  narrative  film  bypasses  such  awareness  in  order  to  stimulate  the  affective  emotions  through 
photography  and  editing  that,  through  a  kind  of  seamlessness,  leads  one  into  the  dream-world  of  the  drama. 
In  much  of  avant-garde  cinema,  by  contrast,  the  use  of  surprising  and  innovative  technique  ensures  against 
such  a  reaction.  But  in  many  of  the  finest  avant-garde  films,  visual  devices,  however  unusual,  also  work  to 
transport  the  viewer  into  an  imaginary  realm,  some  revelation  of  the  artist's  inner  life,  in  which  affect  and  even 
implied  dramatic  narrative  may  not  be  absent. 

Gehr's  ends  are  different.  His  vigorous  avoidance  of  seductiveness  of  technique  focuses  the  viewer's  attention 
on  the  cuts,  compositions,  shot  lengths.  And  on  this  level,  the  better  one  knows  a  Gehr  film,  the  more  times 
one  has  seen  it,  the  more  one  is  amazed.  Editing  that  appeared  to  be  rather  regular  becomes  oddly  jarring.  The 
overall  rhythm  which  can  either  appear  violently  accelerated  (Field,  Table)  or  strangely  distended  (History, 
Still,  Signal — Germany  on  the  Air)  becomes  an  important  part  of  each  film's  statement.  When  one  views  the 
fastest  of  the  films,  the  frame-by-frame  rhythm  seems  to  directly  address  and  activate  the  entire  perceptual 
system,  as  long-forgotten  nerve  endings  seem  to  spring  to  life.  The  slower  films  confound  our  expectations 
for  cinema  time — these  shots  go  on  and  on.  Why  is  nothing  "happening"? — until  it  becomes  apparent  that  we 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

are  being  asked  to  adopt  a  different,  more  meditative  stance,  to  view  imagery,  and  the  world,  without 
preconceived  expectations  about  structure  or  beauty. 

Gehr's  films  are  full  of  little  miracles.  An  indistinct  wall  of  snow  somehow  becomes  a  wall  of  red  brick.  A 
long  corridor  seems  to  constantly  shift  in  depth.  Cars  move  before  the  eyes  in  multiple  directions,  creating  a 
labyrinthine  maze.  But  there  is  no  sleight  of  hand  here;  one  can  always  tell  how  such  sights  arc  created,  and 
the  filmmaker's  achievement  goes  beyond  the  creation  of  such  joys.  The  point  of  his  cinema  is  that  by 
redefining  the  relationship  of  viewer  to  film,  he  has  made  his  discoveries  ours  as  well.  These  works  cannot  be 
viewed  with  the  passivity  that  conventional  narrative  films  can  encourage,  nor  are  we  encouraged  to  travel 
with  the  artist  to  some  place  defined  by  its  separateness.  Instead,  each  film  encourages  us  to  a  deeper 
awareness  of  our  own  eyes,  nervous  system,  brains.  A  new  and  more  equal  balance  between  viewer  and 
filmmaker  is  achieved,  as  we  realize  that  everything  we  see  we  apprehend  not  because  the  filmmaker  gives  it 
to  us  but  because  we  actively  create  it  out  of  our  own  perceptions  and  the  true  subject  of  the  work  is  not  any 
"object"  but  those  perceptions  themselves.  The  site  of  cinematic  creation  is  thus  relocated  from  the 
filmmaker's  editing  table,  or  imagination,  to  the  viewer,  who  is  given  at  last  a  position  of  unprecedented 
equality  with  the  filmmaker.  These  are  films  that  are  no  more  about  the  inner  life  of  that  filmmaker  than  they 
are  about  the  possibilities  inherent  in  each  of  us. 

— Fred  Camper,  1990  Maya  Deren  Award  Brochure, 
American  Film  Institute 

Program  II 

February  28,  1993 

Serene  Velocity  (1970);  16mm,  color,  silent,  23  minutes 
Mirage  (1981,  revised  1991);  16mm,  color,  silent,  12  minutes 
Eureka  (1974);  16mm,  b&w,  silent,  30  minutes 
Table  (1916);  16mm,  color,  silent,  16  minutes 
preliminary  sketch  for  Shift  (1972);  16mm.  color 

Serene  Velocity  is  one  of  the  few  really  unique  films  I  have  seen  during  the  last  few  vears.  It  is  so 
emphatically  single-minded  and  complete  in  its  exploration  of  the  various  ironies  and  multiple  levels  of  its 
imagery  that  it  leaves  one  stunned.  Just  when  you  have  settled  into  a  one-groove  visual  interpretation  of  the 
given  space  you  are  viewing,  Gehr  transforms  this  space  in  such  a  way  that  your  awareness  of  it  becomes 
something  entirely  different.  Surprises  and  transformations  within  the  image  are  constantly  setting  one  off 
balance.  The  image  is  a  corridor,  with  a  set  of  double  doors  at  one  end.  The  camera  is  in  a  fixed  position, 
placed  squarely  at  the  end  of  the  hall  facing  these  doors.  The  sequence  of  shots  consists  of  two  images  placed 
closely  together,  following  one  another  at  a  rapid  pace.  The  first  slowly  recedes  from  the  doors;  the  second 
approaches  them.  The  shots  alternate  one  with  the  other  so  that  the  viewer  is  pulled  away  and  pushed  forward 
almost  at  the  same  time.  After  a  period  the  accumulation  of  these  images  makes  what  seems  to  be  the  logical 
perspective  of  the  hallway  invert  upon  itself — so  that  instead  of  it  being  a  long  hallway  receding  into  the 
distance,  it  also  becomes  a  pyramidal  shape  thrusting  forward.  The  lines  of  the  corridor  (floor,  walls,  ceilings) 
create  expanding  and  contracting  squares  within  squares.  Three-dimensionality  in  either  direction,  forward  or 
backward,  is  all  but  destroyed  only  to  reappear  again  unexpectedly.  As  the  distant  doors  draw  nearer,  both 
they  and  the  hallway  engulf  in  blackness  the  other  gradually  receding  doors.  A  heartbeat  blinking  on  and  off. 
The  long  shot  of  the  reflection  of  the  ceiling  lights  bouncing  off  the  floor  becomes  repeatedly  pierced  by  a 
black  line  which  is  actually  the  dividing  line  between  the  doors.  The  variations  and  complexities  which  occur 
within  the  basic  concept  seem  endless.  Even  the  floor  which  normally  appears  in  natural  perspective  does  not 
remain  that  way — in  fact  one  sees  an  upright  pyramid  shooting  out  from  the  screen  and  then  passing  back  into 
it,  a  characteristic  strangeness  of  many  of  the  transformations.  One  can  only  follow  the  progress  of  the  doors 
by  keeping  the  two  bottom  shiny  brackets  in  view  as  they  expand  and  contract.  The  receding  doors  become 


1993  Program  Notes 

postage  stamp  size.  The  advaneing  doors  till  the  sereen  by  half.  This  pushing  back  and  forth  flattens  the  image 
and  gives  rise  to  a  complete  geometric  design.  It  is  rare  that  a  film,  which  on  the  surface  seems  to  be  only  a 
technical  tour-de-force,  can  lift  one  to  such  emotional  heights  as  it  develops  from  surprise  to  surprise.  Serene 
Velocity  is  not  another  dry  and  deadly  structural  film,  it  is  an  organic  living  experience. 

—Bob  Cowan,  "Letter  from  New  York"  in  Take  One,  Vol.  4,  #1  (1974) 

Serene  Velocity  is  a  literal  "Shock  Corridor"  wherein  Gehr  creates  a  stunning  head-on  motion  by 
systematically  shifting  focal  lengths  on  a  static  zoom  lens  as  it  stares  down  the  center  of  an  empty, 
modernistic  hallway — also  plays  off  the  contradictions  generated  by  the  frame's  heightened  flatness  and 
severe  Renaissance  perspective.  Without  ever  having  to  move  the  camera,  Gehr  turns  the  fluorescent 
geometry  of  his  institutional  corridor  into  a  sort  of  piston-powered  mandala.  If  Giotto  had  made  action  films, 
they  would  have  been  these. 

— J.  Hoberman,  The  Village  Voice 

*  *  * 

Eureka 

Ernie  Gehr's  revitalization  of  a  film  originally  shot  around  1903  is  only  a  small  portion  of  his  concerns  in 
Eureka,  and  yet  it  is  his  straightforward  manner  of  reviving  this  work  which  shouldn't  be  overlooked.  By 
refilming  the  material  as  he  has  done  (optically  repeating  each  frame  8  times)  he  allows  it  to  remain  the 
representational  documentary  it  was  and  still  is  of  a  vanished  era  while  at  the  same  time  bringing  his  own 
interests  to  the  foreground.  As  the  never  seen  trolley  car  with  camera  makes  its  way  down  San  Francisco's 
Market  Street,  it  reveals  a  turn  of  the  century  world:  a  co-mingling  of  an  industrial/urban  and  rural/agrarian 
setting  with  its  admixture  of  people,  automobiles  and  horse-driven  vehicles;  all  sharing/competing  for  space 
on  a  bumpy  cobblestone  street,  alluding  to  the  fading  out  of  a  late  19th-century  environment  and  the  fading  in 
of  20th  century  mechanization. 

Imagine  moving  down  such  a  street — uninterrupted,  not  for  30  seconds,  or  one  minute  (or  five 
minutes  as  in  the  original),  but  for  half-hour.  A  time  which  is  psychologically  and  metaphorically  even  much 
greater  and  so  implied  by  Gehr  in  his  temporal  elongation  of  the  film.  Yet  what  he  offers  us  is  not  an  illusion 
of  what  it  was  like  at  the  turn  of  the  century,  but  a  cinematic  indication  of  what  it  might  have  been  like  given 
the  characteristics  of  the  original  film/material. 

Gehr's  method  of  re-filming  heightens  the  bumpy  movement  of  the  original  film,  echoing  the  texture 
of  the  uneven  cobblestone  street,  giving  us  the  impression  of  what  it  might  have  been  like  to  be  transported 
through  that  street  in  some  sort  of  vehicle  at  around  the  turn  of  the  century.  The  film's  staggered  movement 
induces  an  exaggerated  sense  of  moving  through  space,  opening  up  a  feeling  of  deep  space  while  at  the  same 
time  its  slow  and  seemingly  discontinuous  advancement  tends  to  flatten  space  out.  By  bringing  out  contrast 
and  starker  definition  of  light  and  shadow,  Gehr  intensifies  the  grainy  irregular  texture  of  the  original  film, 
causing  the  black  and  white  spectres  which  populate  his  work  to  oscillate  in  a  pulsating  rhythm  between  their 
tactile  existence  as  representational  forms  and  pure  film  grains  varying  in  tonality,  density  and  shape. 
Sometimes  areas  of  the  screen  are  full  of  brooding  dark  particles  on  the  verge  of  some  kind  of  battle  or 
explosion,  and  then,  all  of  a  sudden  light  pours  through  and  representational  forms  begin  to  come  into  focus; 
only  to  be  again  swept  away  by  the  oncoming  waves  of  dark  or  light  eruptions  as  the  grains  both  devour  the 
image  as  well  as  emanate  from  it....  Also  attempting  to  define  a  deep  space  are  those  ever-present  streetcar 
tracks,  moving  out  in  renaissance  perspective  toward  an  imaginary  horizon  while  other  elements,  such  as  the 
scratches  or  splice  of  the  original  film  are  working  against  them,  re-inforcing  the  screen  plane.  But  Gehr's 
work  is  never  a  simple  play  of  light  and  shadow,  and/or  of  the  tension  between  two-dimensional  and  three- 
dimensional  space. 

What  a  remarkable  observation  of  history  is  made  available  as  we  move  ever  so  gradually  down  this 
teeming  street.  Not  only  are  we  being  guided  through  space  but  time  as  well.  It  is  practically  the  entire  20th- 
century  which  comes  between  us  and  the  activities  depicted  on  the  screen.  A  century  which  has  probably  gone 
through  changes  at  a  faster  pace  than  any  previous  generation,  both  physically/visually  as  well  as 
psychologically.  In  Eureka  we  see  people  from  another  era  going  to  and  from  work.  Men  and  women  out  for  a 
day's  shopping,  businessmen,  newsboys,  messengers,  workers,  people  waiting  for  a  streetcar  or  just  milling 
around.  Similarly,  there  are  a  variety  of  moving  vehicles  and  means  of  transportation.  Bicycles,  horses,  horse- 
driven  wagons,  horse-driven  streetcars,  electrically-driven  streetcars,  trolleys,  horse-driven  carriages, 
automobiles,  all  interweaving  and  crossing  each  other's  paths,  and  like  the  inhabitants,  moving  through  this 


11 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

labyrinth  in  totally  unrestricted  patterns.  Countless  dramas  unfold  as  motor-driven  vehicles  now  vie  for  space 
once  dominated  by  humans,  animals  and  horse-driven  vehicles.  Automobiles  carelessly  navigate  through  the 
traffic,  aggressively  asserting  their  presence,  cutting  directly  in  front  of  the  more  precarious  horse-driven 
vehicles  and  even  challenging  the  steady  moving  streetcars.  Those  automobiles  careening  close  to  the  camera 
create  at  times  a  strong  sense  of  three-dimensional  space,  yet  leave  only  a  blur  in  their  path  as  they  traverse  the 
frame  hurrying  to  their  unknown  destination.  Pedestrians  pour  through  the  streets,  obliged  to  mingle  with  the 
traffic.  They  maneuver  between  cyclists,  automobiles,  horses,  wagons  and  trolley  cars,  often  creating  wonderful 
cinematic  incidents  like  the  bustled  woman  making  her  way  across  the  street  to  catch  the  approaching  streetcar. 
As  we  watch  her  ascend  on  the  passing  streetcar  she  seems  to  be  "stepping  out  of  the  frame." 

Periodically  a  young  boy  runs  in  front  of  the  trolley,  looking  into  the  camera,  jesting,  waving,  making 
his  presence  felt.  One  notices  him  and  then  because  there  is  so  much  other  phenomena  to  follow,  loses  him 
running  ahead  through  the  crowd  or  beyond  the  limits  of  the  frame.  Upon  first  viewing  it  may  not  be  possible 
to  recall  whether  it  is  one  boy  or  a  number  of  different  boys  who  persistently  return.  In  either  case,  his 
appearance  at  different  intervals  creates  a  recurring  tension,  like  a  constantly  reappearing  familiar  figure  within 
an  otherwise  changing  landscape.  Appearing  more  frequently  towards  the  latter  part  of  the  film  the  boy  seems 
to  be  leading  the  trolley  to  the  end  of  the  street  as  the  front  facade  of  a  splendid  19th-century  building, 
previously  looming  calmly  on  the  horizon,  begins  to  engulf  more  and  more  of  the  frame.  With  the  camera's 
journey  coming  to  its  final  destination  and  the  facade  filling  the  entire  screen,  the  boy  throws  himself  against 
the  building  wanting  to  be  in  the  film  up  to  the  very  end.  But  contrary  to  one's  expectations  the  camera 
advances  a  bit  further,  pushing  on  past  him  to  reveal  the  last  image  in  the  film.  Through  the  shifting  grains  of 
film  on  the  right  side  of  the  frame  a  plaque  on  the  building  comes  into  view  and  the  words  "Erected  1896" 
can  barely  be  made  out.  Next  to  the  plaque  on  the  left  side  of  the  frame  stands  an  old  man,  his  long  white 
beard  blows  slowly  in  the  wind,  moving  in  rhythm  to  the  shifting  film  grains.  The  camera  comes  to  a 
complete  stop  at  this  point  in  Gehr's  film*  pausing  on  its  last  image.  The  image  is  held  beyond  the  time 
needed  to  identify  it,  remaining  in  our  field  of  vision  as  in  a  state  of  suspended  animation  and  acting  as  a 
terminal  point  for  Gehr's  film.  The  old  man  is  poised  there  like  a  vision  from  the  19th-century,  a  full 
generation  separating  him  from  many  of  the  younger  people  passing  through  the  streets.  He  stands  at  the  end 
of  Market  Street  gazing  back  down  the  space  we  have  just  traversed  and  perhaps  sees  this  street,  not  as  an 
image  from  the  past  but  as  a  vision  from  the  future.... 

At  the  end  of  Eureka  what  impressions  remain  are  more  than  just  the  physical  allusions  to  time  and 
space  depicted  by  the  fleeting  shadow  world  represented  on  the  screen.  As  we  have  moved  down  this  street, 
floating,  hovering  in  space  slightly  above  the  crowds  and  traffic,  we  have  seen  the  passing  of  a  world  and  a 
way  of  life  long  gone,  vanished,  and  we  are  perhaps  reminded  of  the  irretrievability  of  our  own  past. 

— Myrel  Glick,  June  1980,  Film  Culture  No.  70-71  (1983) 

*In  the  original  film  the  trolley  is  turned  around  revealing  to  us  a  reversed  view  of  the  street  we  have 
just  passed  through.  Whereas  in  Gehr's  film,  the  plaque  is  the  final  destination  of  the  trolley/camera's  journey. 
What  a  coincidence  that  the  plaque  should  read  "Erected  1896,"  a  date  so  close  to  the  first  public  projection  of 
films  by  the  Lumiere  brothers  in  1895. 

Program  III 

March  4,  1993 

Shift  (1972-74);  16mm,  color,  sound,  9  minutes 

Signal — Germany  on  the  Air  (1982-85);  16mm,  color,  sound,  37  minutes 

This  Side  of  Paradise  (1991);  16mm,  color,  sound,  14  minutes 

Shift 

.  .  .  For  [Ernie]  Gehr,  Shift  broke  new  ground — hence,  perhaps,  a  pun  in  its  title.  The  film  is  his  first  to 
employ  extensive  montage:  virtually  all  of  his  earlier  works  were  created  through  the  application  of 


1993  Program  Notes 

predetermined  shooting  systems  and  thus  edited  in  the  eamera.  Table  is  pure  viseeral  sensation;  Shift  is  more 
dramatic.  The  actors,  however,  are  all  mechanical — a  series  of  cars  and  trucks  filmed  from  a  height  of  several 
stories  as  they  perform  on  a  three-lane  city  street.  Gehr  isolates  one  or  two  vehicles  at  a  time,  inverting  some 
shots,  so  that  a  car  hangs  from  the  asphalt  like  a  bat  from  a  rafter,  using  angles  so  severe  the  traffic  often 
seems  to  be  sliding  off  the  earth,  and  employing  a  reverse  motion  so  abrupt  that  the  players  frequently  exit  the 
scene  as  though  yanked  from  a  stage  by  the  proverbial  hook. 

A  sparse  score  of  traffic  noises  . . .  accompanies  the  spastic  ballet  mecanique.  Not  only  the  action  but  Gehr's 
deliberate  camera  movements  are  synced  to  the  music  of  honking  horns,  screeching  brakes,  and  grinding 
gears.  The  eight-minute  [sic]  film  is  structured  as  a  series  of  obliquely  comic  blackout  sketches:  Trucks  run 
over  their  shadows;  cars  unexpectedly  reverse  direction  or  start  up  and  go  nowhere. 

— J.  Hoberman.  American  Film,  June  1982 


Signal — Germany  on  the  Air 

Over  the  past  few  years  there  have  been  several  films  by  established  artists  that  have  not  only  extended  the 
inherent  concerns  of  their  makers  but  cast  a  fresh  critical  template  through  which  to  reconsider  and 
reexperience  previously  secure  work  .  .  .  Ernie  Gehr's  Signal — Germany  on  the  Air  causes  us  to  think  as 
much  about  the  significance  of  earlier  achievements  as  it  does  about  the  complex  issues  of  historical  vision  it 
adumbrates.  In  particular  it  elicits  an  understanding  of  Gehr  as  sort  of  radical  urban  ethologist  working  in  the 
tradition  of  Steinerand  Strand,  Cavalcanti,  Ruttman,  and  especially  Vertov;  creators  of  the  "city  symphony" 
in  which  spatial  dynamics  and  social  activity  are  seen  as  mutually  informing.  Except  that  Signal ...  is  a  city 
dirge,  a  tensely  ominous  diary  of  a  visit  to  Berlin,  one  of  the  grimmest  loci  of  twentieth-century 
consciousness. 

....  The  film's  central  location  is  a  busy  intersection  thick  with  detail,  movement,  and  "actors,"  with  all 
manner  of  signs  and  signals — the  common  semiosis  of  urban  life.  It  is  treated  as  a  field  to  be  broken  down 
into  motifs  such  as  pedestrian  versus  auto  traffic,  articulated  through  slight  shifts  in  camera  angle  and 
position,  through  sets  of  surveillance-like  pans,  and  through  sound.  But  instead  of  a  constant  locus  of  theme 
and  variation  it  undergoes  a  sinuous  and  cumulative  transformation  in  the  film's  global  structure.  At  first  there 
is  just  a  series  of  contiguous  views  underscored  by  fitting  street  sounds.  Changes  in  position  shift  relations  of 
depth  and  shape;  some  details  are  thrust  forward,  others  recede.  Objects  are  re-formed  by  spatial  coincidence 
into  new.  compound  shapes.  A  clock  subtended  by  a  sign  with  a  giant  eye  measures  both  time  and  space.  The 
emphasis  is  on  how  in  the  visual  welter  of  this  scene  slight  adjustments  foster  apertures  and  blockages  to 
vision. 

Gradually,  as  in  the  opening  of  The  Man  With  the  Movie  Camera,  new  elements  are  added  which  animate  and 
extend  through  contrast  the  initial  descriptions.  The  intersection  gives  way  to  a  less  regulated,  less  socially- 
imprinted  array  of  an  empty  lot  with  waving  grass  and  a  deteriorating  building  labeled  in  several  languages  as 
the  former  site  of  a  Gestapo  torture  chamber.  When  we  return  to  the  intersection  radio  sounds  accompany  the 
continuing  dissection  of  space  and  movement:  a  fragment  of  a  symphony,  a  cabaret  song,  a  woman's  voice 
speaking  in  German.  The  recording  seems  to  have  been  taken  directly  as  it  includes  static  interference  between 
signals.  With  its  variety  of  musical,  and  later  dramatic,  forms  and  spoken  languages,  the  radio  constitutes  an 
aural  analogue  to  the  intersection — just  as  the  sliding  of  the  dial  parallels  lateral  pan  shots.  The  radio  is  more 
than  background  or  formal  foil.  An  announcer  states  that  a  Glen  Miller  selection  was  made  in  1942.  What  we 
are  hearing  is  a  counterpoint  of  past  and  present  and  this  insight  begins  to  inflect  our  apprehension  of  what  is 
at  stake  in  the  visual  organization. 

History  and  memory  are  subtly  invoked,  the  other  scene  of  the  wartime  holocaust.  The  intersection  is  played 
off  shots  of  a  railroad  siding  with  aging  boxcars.  Later,  the  dialogue  of  a  bilingual  radio  program  focuses  on 
accusation  and  guilt:  "You  got  us  into  this  mess;"  "Don't  blame  me;"  "You  people  are  all  the  same;"  "You 
don't  know  anything  about  the  real  world."  The  radio  is  both  immediate  and  absent.  Like  the  sound  of  a 
moving  train  it  is  heard  but  not  seen.  With  each  recurrence  of  the  intersection  it  looks  and  feels  different — and 
more  sinister.  Where  do  the  clutches  of  cars  and  people  who  fill  and  vacate  the  frame  come  from?  Where  is 


13 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

the  elsewhere  into  which  they  disappear?  Patterns  of  movement  grow  more  complex,  revealing  an  insistent 
underlying  grid  of  restraint,  coagulation,  and  tentative  release. 

City  streets  are  an  ideal  realm  in  which  to  map  the  intcrpenctration  of  order  and  random  occurrence. 
Observation  and  arrangement  can  tear  through  the  facade  of  the  quotidian,  revealing  suppressed  tensions  and 
disavowed  orders  of  regulation.  Lines  painted  on  the  street  control  the  flow  of  traffic  but  there  are  less  visible 
rules  governing  how  people  pass  one  another,  how  they  line  up  and  wait  at  the  curb.  A  silent  and  barely 
intelligible  language  of  the  body  in  space  operates  within  and  against  the  language  of  editing  and  composition. 
Yet  in  direct  proportion  to  what  is  made  visible,  the  absent  and  unretrievable,  which  is  perhaps  beyond 
representation,  continues  to  assert  itself. 

At  the  core  of  this  absence  is  human  consciousness,  not  just  the  eye  but  the  mind  that  predicates  it.  Signal 
moves  towards  a  visual  and  dramatic  climax  in  a  scries  of  nearly  a  dozen  pan  shots  across  the  active  square. 
They  are  of  slightly  different  speeds  and  describe  slightly  different  arcs.  And  they  are  once  mechanical — like 
the  controlled  patterns  of  human  movement  and  their  mirroring  in  the  surrogate  bodies  of  automobiles — and 
idiosyncratic,  expressive  of  a  psychological  presence.  This  sequence  retroactively  confirms  the  intimation  that 
there  was  more  to  the  shifts  in  position  around  the  intersection  than  mere  formal  rearrangement.  That  a 
sentient,  anxious  and  remembering  agent  lurked  behind  the  distanced  observation.  At  one  point  in  the  film  we 
begin  to  feel  that  the  present  is  defined  by  constant  motion  and  the  past  is  irrevocably  still.  By  the  end  this  can 
no  longer  be  the  case.  Memory  and  observation  are  not  separate  functions;  the  visible  and  invisible  coexist. 
Analytic  procedures  cannot  be  severed  from  history  or  from  the  individual  or  collective  consciousness  which 
constructs  it. 

Gehr's  visit  to  Berlin  was  not  a  casual  tourist  excursion.  But  for  an  "accident"  of  history  it  would  have  been 
his  childhood  home.  Thus  the  ways  in  which  Signal  implicates  and  expands  (some  of)  his  earlier  films  is 
related  to  a  displaced  attempt  to  seize  and  understand  a  pattern  of  events  deeply  inscribed  in  and  by  his  chosen 
location,  events  which  could  exist  for  him  only  in  consciousness.  His  simplicity  of  technical  means  could  not 
be  other;  any  denaturing  of  the  image  by  superimposition  or  printing  would  only  blunt  the  dynamic  of  threat 
and  resistance.  Berlin  is  not  in  this  film  just  another  urban  setting,  another  visual  field  of  fascination  and 
display.  Rather,  it  is  the  field  out  of  which  those  others  were  conceived,  albeit  in  profound  but  not  impossible 
absence.  .  .  Gehr  piles  his  images  into  the  breach  of  a  complex  existential  predicament.  We  can  only  hope 
there  will  be  more  such  battles  forthcoming. 

—Paul  Arthur,  Motion  Picture,  Vol  II,  No.  I  (Fall  1987) 

This  Side  of  Paradise 

In  1989  I  was  in  Berlin  to  record  sounds  for  Rear  Window.  A  couple  of  days  before  leaving,  I  came  across  a 
huge  flea  market  where  a  large  number  of  East  Europeans,  mainly  Poles,  were  selling  whatever  goods  they 
had  managed  to  bring  across  the  border  to  what  was  then  still  West  Berlin.  The  over-all  character  of  the  place 
was  grim,  pathetic  and  ominous.  At  the  same  time  it  had  an  eerie,  almost  festive  mood  to  it.  Though  not  quite. 
Perhaps  it  was  the  result  of  the  East  Europeans'  encounter  with  Western  realities;  perhaps  it  was  because  of 
the  dire  situation  at  home  to  which  they  had  to  return;  perhaps  it  was  the  multitude  of  curiosity  seekers, 
shoppers,  bargain  hunters  and  tourists  like  myself. 

As  I  began  to  walk  through  the  market,  I  was  seized  with  a  desire  to  film  impressions  of  what  I  was 
witnessing,  and  so  I  started  to  record  images  without  any  idea  of  what  I  would  do  with  the  material  later  on. 
In  order  to  by-pass  some  Poles'  uneasiness  with  cameras  aimed  at  them  (and  there  were  manv  people  with 
cameras  when  I  was  there),  at  some  point  I  began  to  focus  on  the  possibilities  offered  by  the  numerous  small 
and  large  muddy  puddles  of  rain  water  which  were  all  over  the  place  and  out  of  which  their  wares  and  misery 
as  well  as  the  remnants  of  western  goods  seemed  to  ooze,  and  into  which,  ironically,  the  Poles  seemed  to 
have  landed.  Half  an  hour  later  I  had  used  up  my  five  rolls  of  film.  I  then  recorded  some  sounds  on  a 
malfunctioning  cassette  tape  recorder.  A  few  days  later  I  left  Berlin.  On  my  way  to  the  airport  I  heard  that  on 
that  day  the  Berlin  wall  was  coming  down. 

—Ernie  Gehr.  1993 


1993  Program  Notes 

Program  IV 

March  7,  1993 

Untitled  (1977);  16mm,  color,  silent,  5  minutes 

Side/Walk/Shuttle  (1991);  16mm,  color,  sound,  40  minutes 

Daniel  Willi,  March  April  May  1992  (1993);  16mm,  color,  sound,  25  minutes.  Work  in  Progress 

Untitled 

....  For  me,  Gehr's  cinema  has  explored  the  process  of  perception  as  crisis — and,  in  this  sense,  his  films  deal 
with  the  relation  of  eye,  mind,  and  image  from  a  critical  perspective.  I  have  always  experienced  the  title  of 
Serene  Velocity  ironically.  In  its  exploration  of  the  fissures  in  the  persistence  of  image  and  the  mind's  ability 
to  create  space  from  a  filmic  image.  Serene  Velocity  leads  me  toward  a  crisis  in  seeing  and  understanding  that 
leaves  me  astonished,  rather  than  serene. 

. . .  Untitled . . .  operates  with  a  similar  crisis  in  recognition  . . .  The  form  of  the  film  follows  certain  strategies 
of  minimalist  filmmaking  of  the  sixties  and  seventies:  a  single  camera  roll  exposed  from  a  static  camera 
position.  Gehr  does  not  use  these  limitations  to  produce  a  simple  contemplative  image,  however.  The 
exploration  of  human  perception  in  relation  to  the  cinematic  apparatus  in  this  film  produces  an  image  in  flux, 
in  fact,  and  image  o/flux  in  dialectical  relation  to  precise  limitations. 

Like  Serene  Velocity  and  Eureka,  Untitled . . .  explores  the  camera's  relation  to  space  through  a  meditation  on 
penetration.  As  in  the  two  previous  films  this  penetration  is  rendered  problematic.  It  is  produced  as  an  issue, 
as  opposed  to  the  simple  phallic  appropriation  of  the  third  dimension  found,  for  instance,  in  Busby  Berkeley's 
camera  tracking  through  the  gothic-arched  legs  of  a  line  of  chorus  girls.  In  Untitled  ...  the  means  of  passing 
through  space  is  exclusively  optical.  Gehr  changes  the  focal  planes  of  his  camera  so  that  the  eye  moves  from 
foreground  to  background  as  successive  layers  come  into  sharpness.  There  is  no  zoom  or  camera  movement 
here,  but  the  eye  dwells  progressively  deeper  into  the  image  as  new  planes  of  distance  come  into  focus. 

....  In  many  ways  it  seems  to  me  that  Gehr's  films  comment  in  a  witty,  ironic,  and  precise  way  on  the 
ambitions  of  the  avant-garde  filmmakers  of  the  twenties,  particularly  the  Soviets.  .  .  In  Untitled  ...  (as  in 
many  of  his  other  films),  Gehr  seems  to  relate  to  Vertov's  paradigmatic  opposition  of  human  eye  to  camera 
eye — much  of  what  a  man  can't  see  a  camera  can.  However,  if  Vertov's  project  was  a  part  of  revolutionary 
optimism  that  saw  the  camera  as  the  completion  and  improvement  of  human  perception,  Gehr's  attitude 
seems  more  modest  and  more  critical.  It  is  the  limitation  of  perception  that  Gehr  explores  through  the 
possibilities  of  the  camera,  an  art  of  vision  founded  on  a  crisis  in  seeing  . . . 

— Tom  Gunning,  "The  Critique  of  Seeing  with  One's  Own  Eyes:  Ernie 
Gehr's  Untitled  (1976)"  [sic]  Millennium  Film  Journal,  #12 

Side  IWalkl  Shuttle 

Part  of  the  initial  inspiration  for  the  film  was  an  outdoor  glass  elevator  and  some  of  the  visual,  spatial  and 
gravitational  possibilities  it  presented  me  with.  The  work  was  also  informed  by  an  interest  in  panoramas  and  the 
urban  landscape.  In  this  latter  respect  Eadwaerd  Muybridge's  photographic  panoramas  of  San  Francisco  from 
the  1870s  as  well  as  the  over-all  topography  of  the  city  itself  were  sources  of  inspiration.  The  final  shape  and 
character  of  the  work  was  tempered  by  reflections  upon  a  lifetime  of  displacement,  moving  from  place  to  place, 
and  haunted  by  recurring  memories  of  other  places,  other  possible  yet  unlike  "homes"  I  once  passed  through. 

— Ernie  Gehr,  January  1993 

Daniel  Willi,  March  April  May  1992 

Work  in  Progress 

Our  son,  Daniel  Willi,  was  born  on  March  3,  1992.  The  images  in  this  work  were  recorded  between  the  4th 
of  March  and  the  end  of  May. 

—E.G. 


15 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

GENERATIONAL  GAPS 

February  26,  1993 

The  Body  Beautiful  (1991),  by  Ngozi  Onwurah. 
Migration  of  the  Blubberoids  (1989),  by  George  Kuehar. 
Splash  (1991),  by  Thomas  Allen  Harris. 
Martina's  Play  house  (1989),  by  Peggy  Ahwesh. 
Remains  to  be  Seen  (1989),  by  Phil  Solomon. 
Time  Being  (1991),  by  Gunvor  Nelson. 

The  Cinematheque  hits  the  airwaves  as  part  of  KQED  Channel  9's  "Living  Room  Festival"  with  a  powerful 
program  (is  this  really  TV?)  exploring  the  familiar  and  often  disturbing  dynamics  that  make  up  parent-child 
relationships.  Although  each  piece  has  a  personal  and  distinctive  voice,  the  stories  told  —  unresolved 
tensions,  ambiguities  in  roles,  parallels  and  differences  —  capture  the  universal  experience  of  family. 

Ngozi  Onwurah's  The  Body  Beautiful  is  a  riveting  autobiographical  film  of  the  development  of  the 
relationship  between  the  artist  and  her  mother,  Madge.  Playing  herself,  Onwurah's  mother  dramatizes  her 
feelings  as  she  comes  to  terms  with  a  growing  breast  cancer  during  her  third  pregnancy  and  is  forced  to  have 
a  radical  mastectomy  immediately  after  the  child's  birth.  With  loving  respect  but  a  piercing  eye,  the 
filmmaker  goes  on  to  detail  the  other  hardships  and  losses  of  her  mother's  life  —  the  death  of  her  husband  in 
the  Nigerian  War  of  Independence,  the  struggle  to  raise  her  mixed-race  children  in  racist  London,  and  her  on- 
going battle  with  the  pain  of  rheumatoid  arthritis.  This  compelling  journey  beyond  the  one  dimensional 
perception  of  a  mother  by  her  child  into  the  recognition  of  her  mother  as  a  complex  tapestry  of  emotions  and 
needs  is  as  haunting  as  it  is  liberating. 

Veteran  filmmaker  George  Kuehar  gives  us  a  peek  into  his  relationship  with  his  mom  in  Migration  of  the 
Blubberoids.  Beginning  with  glimpses  at  haunts  frequented  by  the  filmmaker  as  a  youth  and  including  that 
well-known  institution,  turkey  dinner  at  Mom's  house,  this  8mm  video  diary  entry  takes  a  nostalgic,  yet 
unromantic,  look  homeward.    Edited  in  the  camera,  this  humourous  short  features  his  sweet  and  loving 
mother  —  who,  the  filmmaker  says,  "graciously  blubberizes  any  mammal  she  comes  into  contact  with." 

In  Splash,  African  American  video  artist  Thomas  Allen  Harris  explores  the  interplay  between  identity,  fantasy 
and  homosexual  desire  in  the  pre -adolescent  experience.  Using  the  metaphor  of  swimming  across  a  body  of 
water,  this  fable-like  tale  explores  the  artist's  psycho-social  and  sexual  development  within  the  narrow 
confines  of  a  society  that  encourages  the  consumption  of  whiteness  and  heterosexuality. 

Everything  is  up  for  grabs  in  Martina's  Playhouse,  Peggy  Ahwesh 's  tale  of  a  little  girl  as  she  moves  from  the 
role  of  the  child  to  that  of  the  mother.  Martina  learns  the  parts  of  the  many  characters  she  is  expected  to  play 
and  moves  easily  between  them.  Playhouse  encounters  with  friends  reinforce  the  lesson  of  adaptability 
through  scenes  in  which  the  movement  from  object  to  object  is  not  merely  a  transfer  of  attention,  but  a  shift 
between  layers  of  meaning. 

Dedicated  to  his  mother,  Philip  Solomon  's  Remains  to  be  Seen  examines  the  fragile  line  between  life  and 
death.  Using  images  of  the  operating  room  intercut  with  old  home  movies,  Solomon  creates  what  Village 
Voice  film  critic  Manohla  Dargis  has  called  "images  that  seem  stolen  from  a  family  album  of  collective 
memory." 

In  her  black  and  white  silent  film,  Time  Being,  Gunvor  Nelson  offers  a  gentle  portrait  of  her  mother. 
Opening  with  a  group  of  youthful  photos  and  moving  into  a  real  time  observation  of  her  mother  asleep  in  an 
old  age  home,  Nelson  poetically  captures  the  moment.  The  filmmaker  describes  this  portrait  of  her  mother  in 
the  last  stages  of  life  as  "a  quiet  film  with  my  old  mother." 


1993  Program  Notes 

THE  LOOKING  GLASS  CRACKED 

March  11,  1993 

The  Looking  Glass  Trilogy  {1988-92),  by  Pelle  Lowe;  S-8mm.  b&w/color,  sound,  41  minutes 
includes:  Introduction  ,  1  minute 
,  nor  (1988);  6.5  minutes 
Chintz  (1990);  8.5  minutes 
Earthly  Possessions  (1992),  25  minutes 

A  Page  of  Madness  (1926),  by  Teinosuke  Kinugasa;  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  60  minutes 
Music  by  the  Modern  Bamboo  Flute  Ensemble  (supervised  by  Kinugasa) 

*  *  * 

On  Pelle  Lowe's  Earthly  Possessions 

For  my  brother  on  his  8th  birthday. 

Mi  Querido  Alberto  Javier: 

Two  years  ago  you  sent  me  a  letter  written  in  a  single  sentence  that  said:  "This  is  a  trick."  You  were 
speaking,  of  course,  not  of  mistakes  or  attachments  or  boundaries,  but  of  the  demon  of  possibility  that  we 
hold  hands  with.  I  love  your  tricks,  and  now  I  must  tell  you  about  something  that  you  will  see  in  the  future 
but  that  you  already  understand. 

This  is  a  film  inspired  by  two  books:  a  novel  called  "Wuthering  Heights"  and  the  memoirs  of  a  19th 
century  hermaphrodite.  A  hermaphrodite  is  a  person  who  has  both  sexes,  male  and  female,  and  who  probably 
has  illuminating  thoughts  about  the  question  of  fate. 

One  part  of  the  story  is  made  of  recurring  images  of  things  we  see  and  touch  and  listen  to  when  we 
play:  decaying  flowers,  flames,  sighs,  snakes,  swans,  toy  houses,  a  corpse  on  a  table,  lightning,  running 
water,  birds,  trees,  hands,  poems,  the  moon,  waves  breaking  in  the  shore,  music-box  music.  These  things 
don't  lose  their  value  in  spite  of  their  repetition;  they  act  like  markings  of  experiences  lived  before. 

Another  part  of  the  story  is  told  by  lovers  who  have  tantrums  or  stay  very  still,  waiting  to  understand 
how  does  one  person  travel  outside  of  his  or  her  body.  They  confuse  their  beloved's  face  with  their  own  and 
dress  each  other  and  hold  each  other,  wandering  through  rooms  like  the  chambers  of  the  heart,  trying  to 
recover  something  or  inventing  new  things  to  believe  in. 

There  is  also  one  woman  who  transforms  herself  into  the  man  she  loves  and  who  is  absent.  She 
refuses  to  forget  and  wants  to  be  faithful  to  moments  of  extreme  feeling.  Like  when  you  lose  at  a  game  and 
there  is  no  mercy.  I  am  telling  you  this  because  one  is  never  too  young  to  know  rage  and  sorrow,  to  know  that 
play  is  sometimes  left  unfinished.  She  carries  her  nakedness  with  a  solemnity  that  is  very  similar  to  both  your 
courtesy  and  your  need  to  jump. 

The  film  celebrates  love  and  the  need  to  tell  stories,  and  the  translation  of  this  necessity  into  language. 
We  are  confined  to  the  impulse  to  live  beyond  ourselves,  and  this  piece  speaks  this  impulse  in  gestures  that 
are  ordinary  but  that  tend  to  be  done  carefully:  lighting  a  candle  and  carrying  it  across  a  dark  room,  stopping 
work  at  a  desk  to  turn  to  face  someone  you  love,  undressing  someone  you  love. 

Lovesickness  is  understood  instinctively  as  a  persistence  of  identity,  as  a  time  for  reflection  beyond 
meaning.  All  the  stories  in  this  film  awaken  us  to  humbleness,  to  its  consolation  and  visionary  powers;  they 
are  promises,  like  your  letters,  but  you  already  know  this,  and  I  just  succumb  to  the  weight  of  words  that 
must  be  said. 

— Maria-Eugenia  Mann,  Cinematograph  Volume  5  /Sentience  (1993) 


A  Page  of  Madness 

Teinosuke  Kinugasa  first  achieved  prominence  as  an  oyama,  or  female  impersonator,  in  Kabuki 
theater  and  later  on  the  screen  in  a  similar  role  in  film's  like  Tanaka's  Living  Corpse  (1917).  Until  the  re- 
discovery of  A  Page  of  Madness  in  1971  (found  in  an  old  rice  shed  in  Kinugasa's  house),  his  most  famous 
silent  film  had  been  Crossways  (1928),  a  work  which  showed  great  dramatic  power  and  was  apparently 


17 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

influenced  by  German  Expressionism  (The  Cabinet  of  Dr.  Caligari,  in  particular)  and  the  Soviet  concept  of 
montage,  but  was  made — as  was  A  Page  of  Madness — before  any  of  these  films  reached  Japan.  In  the  1930s, 
Kinugasa  studied  with  Eisenstein  and  eventually  traveled  to  Germany  were  he  was  able  to  view,  at  last,  many 
of  the  seminal  works  of  early  German  cinema.  He  achieved  international  recognition  in  1953  with  The  Gate  of 
Hell  a  film  remarkable  for  its  color  sense,  that  helped  bring  Japanese  cinema  to  the  attention  of  European 
audiences  and  critics. 

Although  under  contract  with  Shochiku  Studios  at  the  time  he  made  A  Page  of  Madness,  Kinugasa 
produced  the  film  independently  with  the  assistance  of  a  group  of  writers  and  poets  who  were  among  the 
founders  of  the  influential  literary  magazine.  The  Age  of  Letters.  The  novelist  Yasunari  Kawabata,  a  member 
of  this  group,  has  been  credited  with  writing  the  film's  original  screenplay. 

Generally  recognized  as  the  first  experimental  film  made  in  Japan,  A  Page  of  Madness  is  a 
remarkable  cinematic  achievement.  It  is  even  more  astounding  that  Kinugasa  conceived  of  so  many 
innovative  uses  of  expressive  sets  and  lighting,  and  so  original  a  conception  of  montage  without  ever  having 
seen  Caligari  or  any  early  Soviet  films.  The  set  was  painted  with  silver  to  increase  the  amount  of  available 
light,  which  accounts  for  the  unearthly  luminosity  found  in  some  of  the  images.  The  emphasis  on  the  visual 
quality  of  the  film  and  the  reliance  on  the  power  of  associative  editing  allowed  Kinugasa  total  freedom  from 
intertitles  and  gave  the  work  a  uniquely  disorienting  character. 

The  soundtrack  was  added  by  Kinugasa  upon  the  film's  re-release,  and  recreates  the  type  of  live  wind 
music  often  used  to  accompany  Japanese  silent  films  during  the  1920s. 


DROIDS.  POIDS  &   VOIDOIDS 

March  14,  1993 

Sins  of  the  Fleshapoids  (1965),  by  Mike  Kuchar;  16mm,  color,  sound,  40  minutes 

Cast:  Bob  Cowan,  Mister  Robot;  Donna  Kerness,  Voluptuous  Princess;  George  Kuchar,  Evil  Prince;  Julius 

Mittleman,  Voluptuous  Tarzan;  Marin  Thomas.  Lady  Robot. 

Narration  by  Bob  Cowan. 

Love,  a  million  years  in  the  future,  in  a  world  that  abandons  all  mechanical  knowledge,  and  plunges  itself  into 
the  abyss  of  erotic  pleasure  and  stomach  churning  hate!  Delightfully  and  shamelessly  overacted  and  filmed  in 
blazing  color.  Sins  of  the  Fleshapoids  reaches  a  new  peak  in  the  cinema  of  the  ridiculous! .  .  .  My  specific  aim 
was  to  bombard  and  engulf  the  screen  with  vivid  and  voluptuous  colors,  because  Sins  is  a  fantasy  of  science- 
fiction  ...  so  I  tried  to  boost  the  colors  according  to  its  category  .  .  .  "fantastic"  or  "unreal."  ....  In  Sins 
intensive  rehearsing  was  not  necessary.  In  fact,  sometimes  what  I  did  was  to  yell  out  directions  of  what  the 
actors  should  do  while  the  camera  was  on  and  the  film  was  rolling.  I  have  two  types  of  actors  that  I  work  with: 
half  of  them  overact,  the  other  half  can't  act  at  all.  When  given  very  brief  or  on  the  spot  directions,  they  become 
hilarious  to  look  at.  I  believe  this  technique  contributes  greatly  to  making  a  comical  movie.  The  costumes  were 
from  the  racks  of  various  thrift  shops.  They  aren't  actually  costumes;  they  are  a  combination  of  dresses, 
jockstraps,  and  beads.  The  set  material,  draperies  and  pottery  were  bought  at  Alexander's  and  Woolworth's  toy 
department  and  were  constructed  in  my  bedroom  when  I  lived  at  250  East  207th  Street  in  the  Bronx.  However, 
some  of  the  "fill-in"  shots  were  done  in  the  toilet,  when  it  contained  a  very  exotic  wall  paper. 

— Mike  Kuchar.  Film-Makers'  Cooperative  Catalogue  No.  5 

[Sins  of  the  Fleshapoids  is]  my  most  movie  movie.  It  is  a  monument  assembled  to  glorify  Hollywood  and 
the  star  image  ...  to  me.  Donna  Kerness  has  reached  the  peak  of  her  "Movie  Goddess"  image,  an  image  that, 
in  this  film,  makes  her  a  caricature,  a  Debra  Paget  or  Dorothy  Lamour,  that  borders  on  the  grotesque,  but  yet 
still  retains  romantic  atmosphere.  I  have  given  Donna  a  "leading  man"  that  can  only  be  described  as  a  "gift 
from  the  gods."  His  looks  and  physique  endow  the  sets  like  mustard  on  a  hotdog.  The  script  deals  with 
science  fiction  while  the  sets  display  a  sort  of  mythologic  or  Arabian  Nights  flavor.  To  sum  up,  Sins  of  the 


1993  Program  Notes 

Fleshapoids  is  my  most  dearest  dedication  to  commercial  American  movies,  or.  to  put  it  another  way,  it  is  a 
joke  that  cost  me  a  thousand  dollars. 

— Mike  Kuchar,  from  notes  for  the  premiere  of  the  film  at  the 
New  York  Film-Makers'  Cinematheque,  1965 

Y  ©  Y 

Creation  of  the  Humanoids  (1962),  directed  by  Wesley  E.  Barry;  16mm.  color,  sound,  84  minutes 
Producers:  Wesley  E.  Barry  and  Edward  J.  Kay.  Screenwriter:  Jay  Simms. 

Surprisingly  little  information  exists  on  this  nifty  post-apocalyptic  allegory,  which  is  o.k.  because  anonymity 
really  becomes  this  early  '60s  gem.  Films  like  Creation  of  the  Humanoids  seem  to  have  been  made  expressly 
for  the  TV  twilight  zone  of  2  to  6  AM,  Saturday  and  Sunday  mornings,  to  be  viewed  only  while  under  the 
influence  of  sleep-depriving  narcotics  or  alcohol — or,  better  yet,  a  creative  mixture  of  both. 
I've  yet  to  meet  anyone  who  actually  saw  movies  like  This  Island  Earth  or  Mothra  or  The  Monolith  Monsters 
or  The  Crawling  Eye  during  their  original  theatrical  release.  Of  course,  I  don't  mean  to  suggest  that  no  one 
ever  saw  these  films  in  theaters,  only  that  I  haven't  met  anyone  yet  who  had.  Like  millions  of  other  kids 
growing  up  in  the  late  sixties/early  seventies,  I  saw  all  of  this  stuff  on  TV  first.  In  a  variety  of  altered  states. 
This,  then,  is  a  tribute  to  misspent  youth. ..(AK) 

The  following  entry  is  from  Michael  Weldon's  The  Psychotronic  Encyclopedia  of  Film: 

An  incredible  little  film  about  the  sterile  future  after  WWIII.  The  small  group  of  remaining  humans  use 
superintelligent,  obedient,  purplish-green  hairless  robots  to  do  all  the  work.  Don  Megowan  (the  creature  in 
The  Creature  Walks  Among  Us)  is  Craigus,  a  security  officer  who  distrusts  the  mechanical  men.  A 
scientist  has  been  injecting  blood  into  the  emotionless  androids,  making  them  more  human,  and  Craigus' 
girlfriend  [sic]  falls  in  love  with  one.  The  furious  Craigus  gets  even  more  shocking  news.  Filmed  on 
minimal  sets  as  if  it  were  a  play,  this  short  hit  has  been  called  "Andy  Warhol's  favorite  movie."  With 
Dudley  Manlove  from  Plan  9  From  Outer  Space. 


YYYYYYYYYYYY 


No  Such  Thing  as  Gravity  (1989),  by  Alyce  Wittenstein:  16mm,  b&w/color,  sound,  45  minutes 
Director,  Producer:  Alyce  Wittenstein.  Cast:  Nick  Zedd,  Adam  Malkonian;  Holly  Adams,  Kay  Zorn;  Taylor 
Mead,  The  Judge;  Emmanuelle  Chaulet,  Claire  Foreman;  Fred  Wittenstein,  Andreas  Lafont;  Michael  J. 
Anderson,  the  Botanist. 

No  Such  Thing  as  Gravity  is  a  black  comedy  about  a  world  of  the  near  future  where  the  entire  planet.  Earth  is 
governed  by  the  interests  of  its  largest  corporation,  a  producer  of  elaborate  consumer  goods.  The  fun  begins 
when  the  World's  most  ambitious  project,  an  artificial  planet  (Nova  Terra)  which  is  being  used  as  a  refugee 
camp,  begins  to  slide  out  of  its  orbit,  threatening  the  Earth  with  extinction.  Passions  flare  as  a  cocky  lawyer 
(scenery-chewer  Nick  Zedd,  at  his  sneeringest),  a  couple  of  ambitious  scientists,  a  wacked-out  judge 
(underground  legend  Taylor  Mead),  a  seductive  ambassador  (Emmanuelle  Chaulet  from  Eric  Rohmer's 
Boyfriends  and  Girlfriends  and  Jon  Jost's  All  the  Vermeers  in  New  York),  and  a  corporate  tyrant  (the 
filmmaker's  father,  Fred  Wittenstein)  battle  to  preserve  their  interests.  Expressionist  black  and  white 
photography  shot  at  the  sight  of  the  1964  World's  Fair,  No  Such  Thing  as  Gravity  warns  of  capitalist  fascism 
that,  in  a  climate  of  out-of-control  "mergermania,"  could  be  right  around  the  bend. 


1Q 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

LINDA  GIBSON/VALERIE  SOE 
Both  Artists  In  Person 

March  18,  1993 

Linda  Gibson  moved  to  San  Francisco  from  New  York  just  over  a  year  ago.  Many  of  her  videotapes  blend 
choreographic,  symbolic,  text  and  documentary  elements.  She  has  been  a  key  national  advocate  of 
independent  media  for  several  years,  and  currently  works  at  California  Newsreel,  a  non-profit  distributor  of 
independent  film  and  video  on  social  issues,  as  Director  of  the  African-American  Perspectives  Media  Project. 

On  the  Beach  (1977);  video,  b&w,  sound,  4.5  minutes 
Directed  and  performed  by  Linda  Gibson  and  Noelle  Braynard 

This  duet  for  hand-held  camera  and  dancer  explores  the  changing  spatial  relationships  between  the  two 
performers. 

Crossings  (excerpts,  1980);  video,  b&w,  sound,  11  minutes 

Responding  to  life  in  suburbia,  the  artist  uses  video  editing  to  manipulate  the  time/space  of  movement 

improvisations  recorded  in  the  reflections  of  a  store  window. 

Empty  Sky  (1982);  video,  color,  sound,  6  minutes 
Choreographed  and  performed  by  Kathy  Kroll 
Adapted  and  directed  by  Linda  Gibson 
Poetry  by  Lao  Tsu 

Adapted  from  a  stage  performance,  the  videotape  combines  video  feedback  and  visual  inserts  to  create  a 
visual  analogy  to  the  dance  and  poetry. 

Flag  (1989);  video,  color,  sound,  24  minutes 

Diaries,  snapshots,  dance,  and  icons  of  popular  and  unofficial  culture  are  used  in  this  insightful  video  to 
represent  the  artist's  relationship  patriotism  and  the  American  flag.  Growing  up  Black  and  female  in  the  '50s. 
she  finds  herself  between  two  cultures.  Kennedy,  Marilyn  Monroe  and  Angela  Davis  are  used  as  symbols  of 
wider  questions  of  racism  and  American  history;  montage  and  superimposition  foreground  the  contradictions 
and  tensions  among  these  symbols.  (Women  Make  Movies) 


San  Francisco  resident  Valerie  Soe's  videotapes  integrate  social  and  political  activities  into  the  fabric  of  her  art. 
She  is  a  teacher,  writer,  curator  and  media  activist. 

New  Year  I  and  //( 1987);  two-channel  video,  5  minutes 

An  autobiographical  memory  of  growing  up  in  a  family  that  struggled  to  hold  onto  its  Chinese  culture  in  the 
suburbs  of  Pinole,  California.  The  irony  of  these  childhood  memories  and  the  struggle  to  maintain  a  sense  of 
cultural  identity  becomes  unapologetically  poignant  when  juxtaposed  with  racist  and  stereotypical  images  that 
existed  and  continue  to  exist  in  the  American  media. 

Diversity  (excerpt);  video 

Black  Sheep;  video 

Mixed  Blood  (1993);  video,  color,  sound,  20  minutes 

This  work  takes  a  personal  view  of  interracial  relationships  in  the  Asian  American  community,  examining 
some  of  the  motivations  behind  cross-cultural  intimacy,  and  the  attitudes  and  reactions  from  Asians  and  non- 
Asians  involved.  Combining  interviews  with  over  thirty  individuals,  text,  and  clips  from  scientific  films  and 


1993  Program  Notes 

classic  miscegenation  dramas,  Soe's  tape  explores  the  complexities  of  intimate  emotional  and  sexual  choices 
and  whether  such  choices  have  public  and  political  implications. 


FROM  BREER  TO  ETERNITY:  A  TRIBUTE  TO  ROBERT  BREER 
Filmmaker  Robert  Breer  in  Person 

Program  I 

March  21,  1993 


"I  haven't  felt  as  good  in  a  long  time  as  when  I  stood  in  the  Bonino  Gallery  looking  at  Breer's  constructions 
and  movies.  The  amazing  thing  is  that  all  this  goodness  and  happiness  is  caught  so  simply  and  so 
effortlessly. ..We  look  at  Breer's  work  and  we  begin  to  smile — lightly,  inside,  a  happy  sort  of  smile,  a  happy 
feeling  like  when  you  see  anything  beautiful  and  perfect.  It's  through  an  amazing  control  and  economy  of  his 
materials  that  he  achieves  this;  through  the  elimination  of  all  the  usual  emotional,  personal,  sick  material;  by 
not  giving  in  to  temptations." 

— Jonas  Mekas,  Movie  Journal 

"Breer's  unpredictable  lines  flow  forth  naturally  with  an  assurance  and  a  serenity  which  are  the  signs  of  an 
astonishing  felicity  of  expression." 

— A.  Labarthe,  Cahiers  du  Cinema 

"Breerworld  is  homey  but  tumultuous,  filled  with  sudden  shifts  in  scale  or  color,  flash  frame  jolts,  and  a 
steady  back  beat  of  good-natured  apocalypse. ..he  towers  over  a  field  where  gimmicks  are  common  currency 
and  cuteness  is  as  virulent  as  malaria  in  the  tropics..." 

— J.  Hoberman,  Village  Voice 

"Robert  Breer's  style  is  akin  to  musical  composition.  His  films  begin  by  presenting  various  elements. ..upon 
which  he  will  later  expand. ..becoming  ever  more  complex." 

— Janet  Maslin,  New  York  Times 


All  films  16mm: 

A  Miracle  (1954);  b&w,  silent,  .5  minutes 

Recreation  (1956);  color,  sound,  1.5  minutes 

Jamestown  Baloos  (1957);  color,  sound,  6  minutes 

A  Man  and  His  Dog  Out  for  Air  (1957);  b&w,  sound.  2  minutes 

Homage  to  Jean  Tinguely's  Homage  to  New  York  (1960);  b&w,  sound,  9.5  minutes 

66  (1966);  color,  sound,  5.5  minutes 

69  (1969);  color,  sound,  5  minutes 

Fuji  (1973);  color,  sound,  8.5  minutes 

Swiss  Army  Knife  with  Rats  and  Pigeons  (1981);  color,  sound,  6.5  minutes 

A  Frog  on  a  Swing  (1989);  color,  sound,  5  minutes 

Sparkill  Ave  (1993,  world  premiere);  color,  sound,  7  minutes 


21 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Program  II 

March  25,  1993 

PBL  #2  (1968);  16mm,  color,  sound,  1  minute 

A  concise  one-minute  cartoon  history  Of  the  black  American  commissioned  by  Public  Broadcast  Laboratory 

and  shown  on  NET  network. 

Blazes  (1961);  16mm,  color,  sound,  3  minutes 

100  basic  images  switching  positions  for  four  thousand  frames.  A  continuous  explosion. 

Pat's  Birthday  (1962);  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  13  minutes 

A  day  in  the  country  with  Claes  Oldenburg  and  the  Ray  Gun  Theatre  Players. ..includes  such  classic  items  as 
the  haunted  house,  a  gas  station,  ice  cream  stand,  miniature  golf,  airplane  noises,  balloons.  Things  happen 
after  each  other  in  this  film  only  because  there  isn't  room  for  everything  at  once.  After  all,  time's  not  supposed 
to  move  in  one  direction  any  more  than  it  does  in  another. 

Fist  Fight  (1964);  16mm,  color,  sound,  11  minutes 

Frame  by  frame  collage  of  everything  imaginable.  First  shown  in  New  York   production    of   K.H. 

Stockhausen's  Originate.  Track  is  from  these  performances. 

70  (1970);  16mm,  color,  b&w,  5  minutes 

Made  with  spray  paint  and  hand-cut  stencils,  this  film  was  an  attempt  at  maximum  plastic  intensity,  "...places 

Breer  for  the  first  time  among  the  major  colorists  of  the  avant-garde." 

— P.  Adams  Sitney,  Visionary  Film. 

Gulls  and  Buoys  (1972);  16mm,  color,  sound,  7.5  minutes 

"The  film  might  appear  to  be  an  unpresuming,  whimsical  exercise  in  animation  or,  to  the  more  serious- 
minded,  it  could  be  viewed  as  a  high  point  in  formal  graphic  film  tradition  stretching  back  to  the  work  of 
Viking  Eggeling  and  Hans  Richter.  It  could  be  viewed  either  way  because  in  fact,  it  is  both. ..a  magical  feat 
that  merits  him  consideration  as  one  of  our  most  important  film  artists." 
— Scott  Hammen,  Afterimage 

77(1977);  16mm,  color,  sound,  7  minutes 

"Breer  is  a  consummate  master  of  cinematic  space.  Like  Hans  Richter,  he  constantly  provokes  a  sense  of 

depth  through  changing  the  scale  of  his  shapes.  We  see  the  space  as  constantly  shrinking  and  expanding.. .the 

metamorphosis  of  things  and  space  is  located  in  the  spectator  who  actively  participates  in  creating  the  meaning 

of  the  image.  Breer  celebrates  the  freedom  endemic  in  animation  by  giving  the  spectator  a  creative  role  in  the 

process  of  metamorphosis."  — Noel     Carrol,    Soho     Weekly 

News 

T.Z.  (1979);  16mm,  color,  sound,  8.5  minutes 

"An  elegant  home  movie,  its  subject  is  Breer's  new  apartment  which  faces  the  Tappan  Zee  (T.Z.)  bridge.  It  is 
permeated,  as  are  all  his  films,  with  subtle  humor,  eroticism  and  a  sense  of  imminent  chaos  and  catastrophe." 
— Amy  Taubin,  Artforum 

Spar  kill  Ave  (1993);  16mm,  color,  sound,  7  minutes 

Descriptions  are  by  Robert  Breer  unless  otherwise  noted. 

Presented  in  collaboration  with  the  San  Francisco  Art  Institute  and  ASIFA  -  San  Francisco. 


1993  Program  Notes 

WORLDS   IN   FOCUS: 

New  Films  by  Henry  Hills,  Peter  Hutton,  and  Warren  Sonbert 

Warren  Sonbert  in  Person 

March  28,  1993 

Bali  Mecanique  (1992),  by  Henry  Hills;  16mm,  color,  sound,  17  minutes 

Bali  Mecanique  is  a  two-part,  self-reflective  study  of  the  dance  and  rhythms  of  life  in  Bali,  combining 
experimental  film  techniques  with  documentary-style  footage.  The  first  section  presents  a  complete  Legong 
dance  intercut  with  footage  of  the  Odalans  (temple  celebrations)  and  sacred  architecture,  building  into  an 
increasingly  frenetic  collage  as  the  dance  reaches  its  crescendo.  In  contrast,  the  second  section  weaves  together 
footage  of  lush  rice  terraces  and  the  "erotic  bumblebee"  of  the  Oleg  Tambulilingan  dance  to  give  a  humorous 
literalization  of  the  "other"  vision  of  Bali:  the  Westerner's  paradise  on  Earth,  set  to  the  original  record  of  "Bali 
Hai"  from  South  Pacific,  which  the  filmmaker  grew  up  on  and  recently  found  in  a  stack  of  discs  on  the  floor 
of  a  closet  in  his  parents'  house.  The  film  ends  with  the  famous  Kris  dance  of  Batubulan  as  it  is  performed 
today.  Starring  the  dancers  from  the  Tirta  Sari,  Gunung  Sari  and  Samara  Jati  gamelan  orchestras  of  the 
Peliatan.  (HH) 

Lodz  Symphony  (1991-1993),  by  Peter  Hutton;  16mm,  b&w,  silent,  20  minutes 

A  portrait  of  Lodz,  Poland  that  exists  in  a  time  warp  of  sad  memory.  Hutton  creates  an  empty  world  evoking 

the  19th  century  industrial  atmosphere  that  is  populated  with  the  ghosts  of  Poland's  tragic  past. 

Short  Fuse  (1991),  by  Warren  Sonbert;  16mm,  color,  sound,  37  minutes 

"Assembled  from  two  decades  of  Sonbert  outtakes,  and  shot  all  with  his  16mm  Bolex  camera,  Fuse  is  a 

crazy-quilt  of  disparate  images.  Boogie  boarders,  trapeze  artists,  lava  beds,  snoozing  cats  and  an  all-male 

clogging  group  share  screen  time,  arranged  in  a  cinematic  mosaic  that's  occasionally  soothing,  but  more  often 

discordant. 

"Unlike  most  rock  videos — which  cut  to  the  beat  and  favor  flowing,  sensual  camera  moves — Sonbert's 
montage  is  jagged  and  arrhythmic.  His  images  frequently  cut  off  just  as  we  begin  to  feel  drawn  in,  and  often 
are  followed  by  shots  that  seem  to  negate  of  chide  them.  By  disrupting  our  conditioned  viewing  patterns, 
Sonbert  creates  an  emotional  urgency  makes  us  question'the  relationship  of  image  and  perception,  sight  and 
cognition." 

— Edward  Guthmann,  San  Francisco  Chronicle 


THE  ELECTRONIC  MUSE:  New  Videos  by  Lynn  Hershman 

Lynn  Hershman  in  Person 

Program  I 

March  30,  1993 
t 

Internationally  acclaimed  video  artist  Lynn  Hershman  has  challenged  the  viewer's  assumptions  and  passive 
spectatorship  from  her  earliest  pieces.  In  her  recent  narratives  she  investigates  the  disturbing  ambiguities 
between  truth  and  fiction.  Over  the  next  two  evenings  the  Cinematheque  and  Roxie  Cinema  present  three  new 
videotapes  that  showcase  the  breadth  and  originality  of  Lynn  Hershman's  work. 

Seeing  is  Believing  (1991,  San  Francisco  premiere);  3/4"  video,  color,  sound.  58  minutes 
Featuring  Estrella  Esparza,  Janet  Orovac,  Guilermo  Gomez-Pena,  Rachel  Rosenthal,  Kathy  Acker. 


23 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Shooting  Script  I  A  Transatlantic  Love  Story  (1992);  3/4"  video,  color,  sound.  52  minutes.  In 
collaboration  with  Knud  Vesterskov  and  Ulrik  Al  Brask.  Music  by  The  Residents. 

This  work  is  a  unique  collaboration  between  three  artists  from  two  different  countries.  It  is  not  only  about 
cultural  difference  between  America  and  Denmark  but  also  about  the  loss  of  identity  due  to  the  omnipresent 
surveillance  and  data  systems  in  the  modern  world.  It  is  these  systems  which  erode  and  assassinate  the  right 
to  privacy. 

With  Shooting  Script  I A  Transatlantic  Love  Story  [the  videomakers]  have  produced  an  intensely 
uncomfortable  work.  On  one  hand,  one  could  easily  introduce  it  as  an  example  of  a  theme  which  has  been 
explored  at  great  length  by  narrative  filmmaking:  The  story  of  a  woman  (a  number  of  variations  on  the 
femme  fatale  figure)  who  is  playing  with  the  affections  of  a  would-be  lover,  and  which  ultimately  resolves 
itself  tragically. 

But  the  tape  goes  much  further  by  deconstructing  the  structure  of  this  fiction,  through  a  collision  of 
aesthetic  strategies  ...  The  initial  confrontation  lies  in  the  encounter  between  sexuality  as  representation  and 
sexuality  as  a  construction. 

At  the  core  of  [this  video]  ...  we  find  the  video  letter:  A  woman  from  America  and  a  man  from 
Denmark  meet  in  a  club,  the  woman  invites  the  man  to  her  hotel  room  in  order  to  play  against  his 
expectations.  They  meet  again  and  decide  that  they  will  send  each  other  a  series  of  letters. 

....  Lynn  Hershman  makes  exceptional  use  here  of  her  own  intricate  narrative  strategies,  assigning  to 
the  female  character  several  identities  against  whom  the  male  character  is  pitted.  Furthermore,  a  key  element 
in  this  aesthetic  resides  in  Hershman's  interruptions,  in  which  she  comments  at  once  on  the  nature  of  the 
collaboration  as  well  as  on  the  relationship  between  the  two  characters,  as  if  they  truly  existed.  But  it  doesn't 
stop  there;  she  integrates  herself  in  the  story  as  a  friend  of  the  woman.  It's  in  such  moments  that  the  tape  takes 
on  a  particularly  perverse  attitude ... 

— Stephen  Surrazin,  Copenhagen  Film  +  Video  Festival  92 

Program  II 

March  31,  1993 


Cut  Piece:  An  Homage  to  Yoko  Ono  (1993,  World  Premiere)  15  minutes,  portrays  one  of  the  major 
New  York  artists  of  the  1960's. 

Changing  World:  A  History  Of  Feminist  Art  (1993,  World  Premiere)  70  minutes,  is  a  chronicle  of 
Women's  Performance  Art  as  depicted  in  the  work  and  words  of  Judy  Chicago,  Judy  Baca,  Yvonne  Rainer, 
Rachel  Rosenthal,  Suzanne  Lacey  and  others. 

Panel:  Women —  Impact  Art:  Featuring  Kathy  Acker,  Conrad  Atkinson,  Judy  Baca,  Suzanne  Lacey,  and 
Lynn  Hershman  as  moderator. 


A  COUPLE  OF  SWEETHEARTS: 
Gunslinging  Cowgirls 

April  8,  1993 

Johnny  Guitar  (1954),  directed  by  Nicholas  Ray;  16mm,  color,  sound,  110  minutes 

with  Joan  Crawford(Vienna — "Gun  Queen  of  Roaring  Arizona").  Mercedes  McCambridge,  Sterling  Hayden. 

Ernest  Borgnine,  and  John  Carradine. 


1993  Program  Notes 

The  Furies  (1950),  directed  by  Anthony  Mann:  16mm.  b+w.  sound.  109  minutes 
with  Barbara  Stanwyck,  Walter  Huston,  Judith  Anderson,  and  Wendell  Corey. 

r-       r-       r- 

...  the  Western  continues  to  be  the  least  understood  of  genres.  For  the  producer  and  distributor,  the  Western 
cannot  be  anything  more  than  an  infantile  and  popular  film,  destined  to  end  up  on  television,  or  an  ambitious 
superproduction  with  major  stars.  Only  the  box-office  appeal  of  the  actors  or  of  the  director  then  justifies  the 
effort  of  publicity  and  distribution.  Betwixt  and  between  is  a  haphazard  question  of  chance,  and  no  one — the 
critic  no  more  than  the  distributor,  it  must  be  said — draws  any  appreciable  distinctions  between  the  films 
produced  under  the  Western  label. . . . 

The  fundamental  problem  with  the  contemporary  Western  undoubtedly  consists  in  the  dilemma  between 
intelligence  and  naivety.  Today  the  Western  cannot  in  most  cases  continue  to  be  simple  and  traditional  except 
by  being  vulgar  and  idiotic.  A  whole  cut-price  production  system  persists  on  such  a  basis.  The  fact  is  that, 
since  Thomas  Ince  and  William  Hart,  the  cinema  has  evolved.  A  conventional  and  simplistic  genre  in  terms 
of  its  primitive  characteristics,  the  Western  must,  however,  become  adult  and  intelligent  if  it  wishes  to  be 
ranked  alongside  films  worthy  of  critical  attention.  Hence  the  appearance  of  psychological  Westerns,  with 
their  social  or  more  or  less  philosophical  theses:  the  Westerns  of  consequence. 

— Andre"  Bazin,  "An  Exemplary  Western,"  Cahiers  du  Cindma  74,  1957 


Johnny  :  How  many  men  have  you  forgotten? 

Vienna  :  As  many  women  as  you've  remembered. 

Johnny  :  Don't  go  away. 

Vienna  :  I  haven't  moved. 

Johnny  :  Tell  me  something  nice. 

Vienna  :  Sure,  what  do  you  want  to  hear? 

Johnny  :  Lie  to  me.  Tell  me  all  these  years  you've  waited.  Tell  me. 

Vienna  :  All  these  years  I've  waited. 

Johnny  :  Tell  me  you'd  have  died  if  I  hadn't  come  back. 

Vienna  :  I  would  have  died  if  you  hadn't  come  back. 

Johnny  :  Tell  me  you  still  love  me  like  I  love  you. 

Vienna  :  I  still  love  you  like  you  love  me. 

Johnny  :  Thanks.  Thanks  a  lot. 

A  young  American  filmmaker  . . .  Nicholas  Raymond  Kienzle  is  somewhat,  in  fact  very  much,  the  passionate 
discovery  of  the  "young  critics"  [of  the  Cahiers  du  Cinema  stable:  Truffaut,  Godard,  Chabrol.  Rivette, 
Rohmer].  Nick  Ray  is  an  auteur  in  our  sense  of  the  word.  All  his  films  tell  the  same  story,  the  story  of  a 
violent  man  who  wants  to  stop  being  violent,  and  his  relationship  with  a  woman  who  has  more  moral 
strength  than  himself.  For  Ray's  hero  is  invariably  a  man  lashing  out,  weak,  a  child-man  when  he  is  not 
simply  a  child.  There  is  always  moral  solitude,  there  are  always  hunters,  sometimes  lynchers. 

....  Johnny  Guitar  is  by  no  means  its  auteur's  best  film.  Generally,  Ray's  films  bore  the  public,  irritated  as 
they  are  by  the  films'  slowness,  their  seriousness,  indeed  their  realism,  which  shocks  them  by  its 
extravagance.  Johnny  Guitar  is  not  really  a  Western,  nor  is  it  an  "intellectual  Western."  It  is  a  Western  that  is 
dream-like,  magical,  unreal  to  a  degree,  delirious.  It  was  but  a  step  from  the  dream  to  Freudianism.  a  step  our 
Anglo-Saxon  colleagues  have  taken  by  talking  about  the  "psychoanalytical  Western."  But  the  qualities  of  this 
film,  Ray's  qualities,  are  not  those;  they  cannot  possibly  be  seen  by  anyone  who  has  never  ventured  a  look 
through  a  camera  eyepiece.  .  .  .  The  hallmark  of  Ray's  very  great  talent  resides  in  his  absolute  sincerity,  his 
acute  sensitivity.  He  is  not  of  great  stature  as  a  technician.  All  his  films  are  very  disjointed,  but  it  is  obvious 
that  Ray  is  aiming  less  for  the  traditional  and  all-around  success  of  a  film  than  at  giving  each  shot  a  certain 
emotional  quality.  Johnny  Guitar  is  "composed."  rather  hurriedly,  of  very  long  takes  divided  into  four.  The 
editing  is  deplorable.  But  the  interest  lies  elsewhere:  for  instance  in  the  very  beautiful  positioning  of  figures 


25 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

within  the  frame.   [Well,  that  certainly  is  one  area  of  interest,  but  definitely  not  the  only  one  in  this  mind- 
boggling  gender-bender).  (The  posse  at  Vienna's  is  formed  and  moved  in  a  V-shape,  like  migratory  birds.) 
— Robert  Lachenay,  aka  Francois  Truffaut.  "A  Wonderful  Certainty,"  Cahiersdu  Cinema  46,  1955 

r-       r-       r- 

Ifa  man 
can  spread  his  hands  and  show  that  they  are  clean, 
no  wrath  of  ours  shall  lurk  for  him. 
Unscathed  he  walks  through  his  life  time. 
But  one  like  this  man  before  us,  with  stained 
hidden  hands,  and  the  guilt  upon  him, 
shall  find  us  beside  him,  as  witnesses 
of  the  truth,  and  we  show  clear  in  the  end 
to  avenge  the  blood  of  the  murdered. 

— Aeschylus,  The  Eumenides 

The  Furies  marked  the  first  western  from  director  Anthony  Mann,  who  would  go  on  to  make  A- 
budget  psychological  Jimmy  Stewart  westerns  (The  Naked  Spur,  Bend  of  the  River)  that  emphasized  strong 
characters  in  conflict  set  against  great  American  landscapes.  In  The  Furies,  Barbara  Stanwyck  stars  as  the 
power  hungry  daughter  of  a  New  Mexico  land  baron  (Walter  Huston,  in  his  last  film)  who  carries  out  her 
love  affairs  and  acts  of  vengeance  with  all  the  passion  of  a  character  in  a  Greek  tragedy. 

[That's  because  she  is,  sort  of.  Stanwyck  embodies  many  of  the  qualities  associated  with  the  three 
Furies,  or  Eumenides,  of  Greek  mythology.  Born  from  the  blood  of  Uranus,  the  function  of  the  Furies  was 
to  punish  wrongs  committed  against  kindred  blood  regardless  of  the  motive.  They  were  usually  represented 
as  three  ugly  crones  with  bat's  wings,  dog's  heads  and  snakes  for  hair.  Their  names  were  Megaera  (envious), 
Tisiphone  (blood  avenger)  and  Alecto  (unceasing,  i.e.,  in  pursuit).  When  called  upon  to  act,  they  hounded 
their  victim  until  he  died  in  torment.  In  the  myth  of  Orestes,  they  appear  as  Cly temnestra's  agents  of  revenge. 
After  Athena  absolves  Orestes  of  guilt  in  the  murder  of  his  mother,  the  Furies  accept  her  decision  and  become 
known  as  the  Eumenides  (kindly  ones)]. 

The  Furies  is  also  the  name  of  a  vast  territory  controlled  by  land  baron  T  C.  Jeffords  (Huston), 

over  which  many  dramas  are  fought. . .  .  While  most  women-oriented  films  of  the  period  were  sympathetic 
toward  their  leading  characters,  The  Furies  doesn't  hesitate  to  show  a  less-than-lovable.  power-driven 
Stanwyck.  At  one  point  she  flings  a  pair  of  scissors  into  the  eye  of  her  stepmother  and  later  shows  not  a  hint 
of  remorse.  Even  her  desert  riding  shots  are  framed  so  that  her  face  is  in  darkness  and  the  cactuses  and 
surrounding  desert  looks  foreboding.  Stanwyck's  cold  and  dangerous  characterization  is  chief  in  making  The 
Furies  one  of  the  darkest  westerns  ever  made. 

— John  Stanley.  San  Francisco  Chronicle,  4  April  1993 


The  San  Francisco  Cinematheque,  San  Francisco  Arts  Commission, 
and  The  509  Cultural  Center  Present 

THE  SPACE  BETWEEN:   LIVING  SPACES  —  HOME  AND  AWAY 
An  Outdoor  Projection/Installation  at  6th  and  Market  Streets 

April  16,  1993 

Conceived  and  curated  by  Lissa  Gibbs,  "Living  Spaces  —  Home  and  Away"  is  part  of  The  Space  Between,  a 
three-part  outdoor  projection/installation  series  sponsored  by  the  San  Francisco  Art  Commission's  Market 
Street  Art  in  Transit  Program  and  the  San  Francisco  Cinematheque.  It  is  a  series  of  collaborative  public  art 
events  focusing  on  the  role  of  Market  Street  as  a  site  of  communications  and  public  forum.  Through  the 
projection  of  film  images  created  by  the  city's  own  inhabitants  onto  the  surfaces  of  Market  Street  buildings. 


1993  Program  Notes 

the  series  seeks  to  create  new  and  different  possibilities  for  public  gathering  and  community  expression  along 
this  historic  promenade.  The  home  movies  screened  tonight  were  gathered  through  an  open  public  solicitation 
through  newspaper  announcements,  fliers,  and  word  of  mouth.  Special  thanks  to  all  of  those  who  submitted 
their  films,  the  Luggage  Store,  and  the  residents  and  businesses  of  the  Market  and  6th  Street  area. 

Reel  #2,  from  Beasley;  16  mm,  color.  15  minutes 

Reel  #1  /Oakland,  circa  1935,  from  Beasley,  16  mm,  b  &  w,  15  minutes 

Kiya/Hawaii,  from  Lana  Girvin;  Super-8  mm,  b  &  w,  3  minutes 

Jake,  June  1989,  from  Lana  Girvin;  Super-8  mm,  b  &  w,  3  minutes 

Lucy's  Dogs  Playing/Thanksgiving  1991,  from  Liza  Xydis;  Super-8  mm,  color,  3  minutes 

Lesbian/Gay  Pride,  San  Francisco  1991,  from  Chana  Pollock;  Super-8  mm,  color,  3  minutes 

Napa  Valley  Balloon  Trip,  3/85,  from  Andy  Moore;  Super-8  mm,  color,  6  minutes 

Family  Gathering,  1972?,  from  David  Blankenship;  Super-8  mm,  color,  3  minutes 

Burbank  Parade,  May  1974,  from  David  Blankenship;  Super-8  mm,  color,  3  minutes 

Go  Slow  Movie,  from  Andy  Lawless;  Super-8  mm.  color.  3  minutes 

Thanksgiving  Weekend  1991:  San  Francisco  -  Top  of  the  Emporium  Carnival  Rides,  from 
Jerome  Carolfi;  Super-8  mm,  b  &  w,  3  minutes 

Roll  2-S,  from  Carey  Liu;  Super-8  mm,  color,  3  minutes 

Fort  Point,  from  Nancy  Whalen;  Super-8  mm,  color,  3  minutes 

Protesting  the  Oscars,  April  1992,  from  Chana  Pollock;  Super-8  mm,  color,  3  minutes 


EYE-FULL  FILMS  REVISITED:  Films  by  David  Michalak 
David  Michalak  in  Person 

Live  Music  by  PLANET  X 
(Bruce  Ackley/J.A,  Deane/Joseph  Sabella) 

April  22,  1993 

Tales   You  Lose  (1992);  16mm,  sound 

Tales  of  good  intenetions,  and  tails  from  left  over  films,  make  a  movie.    Phone  call  from  Sean  Brancato. 

Originally  made  for  the  No  Nothing's  annual  HELP  KEEP  FILM  DEAD  show. 

Once  a  Face  (1984);  16  mm,  sound 

From  disheveled  misfit  to  strangled  yuppie  —  "Fame  and  fortune  may  have  its'  grace,  but  who  wants  to  be 

known  as  Once  A  Face?" 

Not  Quite  Right  (1987);  16  mm,  sound 

A  dark,  haunting  psychological  portrait  of  a  man  struggling  with  his  demons  and  his  desire  for  change.  "The 
faces  of  Michalak's  characters  are  often  confused  and  troubled,  as  if  their  psyche  were  forever  mirroring  the 
fragmented  environment  they  find  themselves  in." 

Portraits,  Part  7(1986);  16mm.  sound 

Three  special  friends  rendered  visually.  Shot  on  one  roll  of  film,  these  "moving  paintings"  contain  over  200 

in-camera  double  exposures. 


27 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Who  Stole  the  Keeshka?  (Calling  W-A- 2-E-J-V)  (1993);  16  mm,  sound 

A  filmic  seance.  A  tribute  to  my  brother  Jimmy  and  a  quest  for  contact.   Movies  as  an  afterlife,   "...never  let 

it  fade  away." 

Life  is  a  Serious  Business  (1983);  16  mm.  sound 

Using  the  wisdom  from  a  How  To  Overcome  Discouragement  record,  an  instructor  coaches  his  former  self 

out  of  depression. 

Love  and  Faith  (1992);  16  mm,  sound 

Campaigning  reduced  to  handshakes  and  pointing  fingers.  Made  from  footage  found  at  the  Ilea  market. 

Popcorn  Obstacles  (1984);  16  mm,  sound 

This  film  will  be  shown,  technology  permitting.  Please  pardon  the  delay!  The  crowd  will  be  treated  to  some 
horror  (Thanksgiving  II),  porno  (Volley  for  Serve),  and  other  accidental  movies  while  the  projectionist 
searches  for  loose  ends.  The  trouble  with  expectations... 


THIRD  EYE  BUTTERFLIES: 
A  Tribute  to  Storm  De  Hirsch 

April  25,  1993 

Divinations  (1964);  16mm,  b&w/color,  sound,  5.5  minutes 

Third  Eye  Butterfly  (1968);  16mm  (twin-screen  projection),  color,  sound,  10  minutes 

excerpt  from  The  Tattooed  Man  (1969);  16mm,  color,  sound,  approximately  10  minutes 

Cine-Sonnets: 

The  Recurring  Dream  (1974?);  Super-8mm,  color,  silent,  4  minutes 

September  Express  (1973);  Super-8mm,  color,  silent,  6  minutes 

Malevich  at  the  Guggenheim  (1974?);  Super-8mm,  color,  silent,  5.5  minutes 

Deep  in  the  Mirror  Embedded  (1975);  Super-8mm,  color,  silent,  14  minutes 

Lace  of  Summer  (1973);  Super-8mm.  color,  silent,  3.5  minutes 

Spring/Fall  Cinesongs:  For  Storm  De  Hirsch  (1990),  by  Gary  Adlestein;  Super-8mm,  color,  sound, 
1 1  minutes 

Filmmaker,  painter  and  poet  Storm  De  Hirsch  (1912-  )  was  born  and  raised  in  New  Jersey  (nee  Lillian 
Malkin)  and  moved  to  New  York  at  an  early  age.  Her  published  poems  appeared  in  journals,  anthologies, 
and  such  volumes  as  Alleh  Lulleh  Cockatoo  (1955)  and  Twilight  Massacre  (1964).  Her  paintings,  drawings 
and  collages  were  exhibited  in  various  group  and  one-person  shows  in  New  York  and  Rome. 

The  25  or  more  films  she  made  between  1963  and  1975  arc  marked  by  their  diversity  in  subject,  style  and 
format.  Her  early  short,  painterly  and  poetic  16mm  films  brought  her  prompt  acclaim  in  avant-garde  film 
circles.  These  included  hand-made  abstractions  in  black-and-white  and  in  color,  some  with  designs  etched 
into  the  film  itself,  some  mixed  with  live  photography.  The  very  titles  -  Divinations,  Shaman:  A  Tapestry  for 
Sorcerers,  Sing  Lotus  -  indicate  her  leanings  toward  magic,  myth  and  ritual.  The  Tattooed  Man,  made  with 
an  $8,000  grant  from  the  American  Film  Institute's  first  round  of  independent  filmmaking  awards,  is  a  16mm 
mini-feature,  at  once  mythic,  dramatic  and  avant-garde. 

In  1973  she  began  her  Hudson  River  Diary  series,  using  a  hand-held  camera  to  create  cinematic  landscapes 
and  waterscapes  in  Cayuga  Run  and  W'mtergarden.    In  the  same  year,  partly  because  of  the  high  cost  of 


1993  Program  Notes 

16mm  sound  films,  De  Hirsch  started  her  series  of  silent  Super-8mm  "Cine-Sonnets"  {Lace  of  Summer, 
September  Express  and  others).  "De  Hirseh's  technical  methods  of  expression."  wrote  Casey  Chamess, 
"result  in  the  creation  of  expression  itself.  A  zoom  is  not  a  zoom:  it  is  a  trope."  Lucy  Fischer  called  the  Cine- 
Sonnets  "deceivingly  modest,"  and  reminded  viewers  to  note  the  subtlety  with  which  De  Hirsch  positioned 
her  camera  to  combine  interior  and  exterior  space. 

Storm  De  Hirsch  spoke  extensively  with  her  films  and  for  a  while  taught  filmmaking  at  New  York's  School 
for  the  Visual  Arts.  Her  films  were  honored  at  U.S.  and  foreign  festivals  and  avant-garde  venues,  including 
retrospectives  at  the  Museum  of  Modern  Art  and  the  Whitney  Museum. 

In  later  years  she  married  Louis  Brigante,  a  filmmaker  and  film  producer  who  was  among  the  founding 
editors  of  the  pioneering  journal  Film  Cu Iture.  Following  Brigante's  death  in  1975,  Storm  De  Hirsch  became 
increasingly  incapacitated  from  Alzheimer's  disease.  She  now  resides  in  a  Manhattan  nursing  home. 

(Information  excerpted  from  a  profile  of  Storm  De  Hirsch  circulated  by  the  Women's  Independent  Film 
Exchange,  based  on  research  by  Tina  Wasserman,  Cecile  Starr,  and  Jessica  Wolff.) 


GOODBYE  IN  THE  MIRROR 

The  last  time  I  saw  Storm  I  didn't  say  hello.  Considering  the  circumstances  under  which  I  saw  her,  I've  never 
been  able  to  forgive  myself. 

I  had  taken  the  bus  from  Reading  to  New  York  for  the  weekend  to  see  some  films.  I  don't  remember 
now  which  films  I  had  planned  to  see,  nor  do  I  recall  exactly  when  this  trip  took  place,  but  I  do  remember 
sitting  on  the  bus  listening  to  some  slick  dick  from  Soho  trying  to  talk  his  way  into  the  pants  of  a  Kutztown 
State  coed  by  laying  on  some  shit  about  how  he  was  the  bass  player  for  the  Plasmatics — ever  heard  of  'em? — 
and  where  was  she  staying  in  the  city  so  he  could  call  her?,  so  I  guess  it  must  have  been  about  1980  or  '81.  It 
was  a  gorgeous  spring  day.  Lots  of  welcome  sunshine  caressing  insanely  green  Pennsylvania  hills  and  high 
blue  skies  dotted  with  ack-ack  puffs  of  white  cloud — a  one-in-a-million  spring  day  pregnant  with  possibilities: 
the  kind  of  day  where,  if  you  paid  close  enough  attention,  you  could  hear  the  sound  of  earthworms  fucking. 

Unfortunately,  I  couldn't.  I  was  on  this  bus  trying  to  block  out  the  slick  dick's  jabbering  and  the 
stench  of  the  disinfectant  from  the  toilet — I  still  smoked  in  those  days,  so  I  was  sitting  in  the  back  of  the  bus, 
puffing  noxiously  and  exuding  such  a  pungent  eau  d'anomie  that  no  one  dared  sit  next  to  me — by  burying  my 
face  in  a  Village  Voice  that  I  had  picked  up  that  morning.  After  breezing  through  the  weekly  rave-up  of  the 
latest  hippest  new  film  ever,  I  turned  the  page  and  scanned  the  film  ads.  Well,  whattyaknow?  The  Donnell 
Library  was  presenting  a  free  screening  of  films  by  Storm  De  Hirsch  that  very  afternoon.  I  decided  to  go. 
When  the  bus  docked  at  Port  Authority  shortly  after  noon,  I  walked  uptown  to  the  library  for  the  show. 

Not  many  people  know  who  Storm  De  Hirsch  is.  This  isn't  surprising.  In  many  ways  her  life  as  a 
filmmaker  is  a  testimony  to  the  old  saw.  "History  is  lies  agreed  upon  by  the  victors."  If  one  based  their 
knowledge  of  experimental  cinema  as  it  developed  in  the  United  States  solely  upon  the  information  contained 
in  the  venerated  texts  of  the  field  (Sitney's  Visionary  Film,  Mekas'  Movie  Journal,  Curtis'  Experimental 
Cinema),  they  would  know  next  to  nothing  about  her  work— other  than  the  fact  that  she  was  a  woman  (along 
with  all  the  other  "footnotes"  to  film  history  like  Sara  Arledge,  Mary  Ellen  Bute,  Barbara  Rubin,  Gunvor 
Nelson,  Chick  Strand,  and  others).  Given,  women  have  played  a  more  substantial  role  in  independent  cinema 
than  in  the  film  industry,  but  their  contributions  are  easily  marginalized — when  considered  at  all — by  most 
male  film  historians.  Even  recent  writing  by  women  film  historians  has  neglected  the  work  of  all  but  the 
most  obvious  artists — Maya  Deren,  Yvonne  Rainer,  Shirley  Clarke,  Chantal  Ackerman. 

Storm  De  Hirsch  began  making  films  in  1963  (at  the  age  of  51)  during  the  salad  days  of  the  New 
York  underground  film  movement.  She  was  there  when  all  the  great  man-child  film  poets  were  exposing 
their  flickering  Orphic  epiphanies  to  growing  audiences  in  Manhattan's  mouldy  subterranean  grottoes.  Storm 
was  a  poet  too.  I  mean,  a  real  poet,  a  poet  poet.  She  had  published  two  books  of  poems  before  she  made  her 
first  film.  Journey  Around  A  Zero  (revealingly  dubbed  "a  phallic  invocation"  by  Storm).  Her  next  film 
Goodbye  in  the  Mirror  was  a  35mm  feature  photographed  in  Rome.  She  followed  this  with  a  flurry  of  films 
that  addressed  spiritual,  mystical  and  transcendental  themes:  Divinations,  Peyote  Queen,  The  Tattooed  Man, 


29 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

and  the  dual-screen  Third  Eye  Butterfly.  (Storm  was  connected  to  other  planes  of  being  in  ways  that  were 
very  scary.  My  friend  Gary,  who  knew  Storm  much  better  than  1.  swore  she  was  authentically  psychic).  But 
the  films  that  I  liked  and  admired  the  most  were  Super-8mm  films  that  Storm  made  in  the  1970s.  These 
delicate  and  modest  "cine-sonnets"  struck  me  as  some  of  the  loveliest  lyrical  works  I  had  seen  up  to  that  time. 
In  a  very  quiet  way,  these  films  revealed  the  power  and  spontaneous  potential  of  cinema  as  an  intensely 
personal  medium.  While  the  films  of  Brakhage,  Warhol,  Rice.  Deren.  Jacobs,  Snow  and  Conner  schooled 
and  instructed  me;  the  Super-8  films  of  Storm  De  Hirsch  hooked  and  infected  me. 

The  Donnell  Library  "Meet  the  Filmmaker"  programs  were  (and  still  are,  I  think)  free.  A  great  idea, 
I  thought.  Saturday  afternoon,  free  movies.  New  York  City,  what  could  be  better?  Of  course,  the 
consequences  of  "free"  events  in  New  York  City  could  be  nasty,  even  lethal,  but  what  could  possibly  happen 
in  a  setting  as  respectable  as  a  library?  I  opened  the  front  doors  and  entered  a  combination  lobby/lounge 
teeming  with  lolling  septuagenarians  who  were  waiting  to  enter  the  theater.  Well,  it  certainly  is  nice  to  see  so 
many  people  of  Storm's  generation  turning  out  for  her  program.  I  walked  into  the  large  and  rapidly  filling 
theater  and  took  a  seat  (in  the  middle,  as  always).  Scanning  the  crowd,  I  easily  picked  out  Storm — her  still- 
blonde  hair  bobbing  conspicuously  in  a  sea  of  gray — already  seated  near  the  front.  I  should  say  hello,  1 
thought,  but  now  that  I'm  already  seated  I'll  save  my  greetings  for  after  the  show.  The  room  grew  dark  and 
the  projector  surged  to  life. 

Now,  I  had  endured  many  unusual  and  awkward  moments  during  film  screenings,  but  nothing  in  my 
experience  had  prepared  me  for  the  carnage  I  was  about  to  witness.  Moments  into  the  first  film — a  single- 
screen  version  of  Third  Eye  Butterfly — the  crowd  began  to  fidget,  the  typical  "well-this-isn't-quite-what-I- 
was-expecting-but-o.k.-I'll-try-it-for-a-while"  type  of  rustling  fairly  common  among  audiences  who  haven't 
seen  very  many  experimental  films.  In  a  moment  or  two  the  audience  will  relax,  enter  willingly  into  the  space 
of  the  film  and  all  will  be  well.  Except  it  wasn't,  something  was  very  wrong.  The  rustling  continued, 
growing  louder,  gruffer,  uglier.  Then,  a  smattering  of  negative  comments.  "This  is...what  is  it?"  "I'm  glad  I 
didn't  pay  money  to  see  this."  "What  kind  of  movie  is  this?  Nothing's  happening  !"  "When  does  the  picture 
start?"  And  then  the  deluge,  a  barrage  of  insults  and  epithets  that  would  have  made  the  Surrealists'  legendary 
outbursts  at  the  premiere  of  The  Seashell  and  the  Clergyman  sound  like  the  mere  whining  of  hungry  Cub 
Scouts.  "This  is  garbage!"  "This  isn't  art,  it's  complete  trash."  Catcalls,  jeering,  whistling  apoplectic  outrage. 
I  was  in  the  movie  theater  scene  from  Gremlins.  All  this  before  ten  minutes  of  the  film  had  elapsed! 

And  then  a  voice— shrill,  petulant,  huge:  "HOW  DARE  YOU  CALL  YOURSELF  AN  ARTIST! 
YOU'RE  A  FRAUD.  A  FAKE.  THIS  IS  THE  WORST  MOVIE  I  EVER  SAW.  YOU  SHOULD  BE 
ASHAMED  OF  YOURSELF."  A  gnarled  old  woman  had  walked  down  the  aisle  and  was  unleashing  a 
tempest  of  abuse  and  invective  inches  away  from  Storm's  face.  "YOU  ARE  A  SHAM!"  she  concluded 
triumphantly.  The  theater  exploded  in  agreement.  I  was  numb  with  horror.  The  room  was  a  hissing  mass  of 
surly  snakes.  I  panicked.  There  was  only  one  thing  to  do.  I  stood  up,  gathered  my  things,  and  tied. 

I  lurched  out  onto  53rd  Street,  my  chest  heaving  with  despair  and  shame  over  the  scene  I  had  just 
witnessed.  Why  had  I  done  nothing  to  defend  the  film  and  Storm?  I  had  taken  on  some  pretty  mean 
customers  in  the  past  and  successfully  tongue-lashed  them  into  submission,  but  the  thought  of  rebuking  a 
rabid  crowd  of  senior  citizens  made  me  shrink  in  fear.  What  could  I  have  done  to  save  the  day?  Nothing,  I 
know  now.  It  was  out  of  my  hands.  What  had  happened  in  the  library  was  preordained.  .  .  Storm  was  a 
sacrificial  lamb  and  she  was  still  in  the  theater,  being  broasted,  while  I  stumbled  down  the  street  looking  for  a 
bar.  I  was  sick  and  miserable.  I  wanted  to  be  someone  else,  a  surfer,  a  dental  technician,  a  proctologist.  I 
wanted  to  die. . . 

Storm  once  gave  me  a  dollar  for  good  luck.  I  had  driven  her  to  the  bus  station  and  when  we 
approached  the  window  to  purchase  her  ticket  to  New  York,  she  just  reached  into  her  change  purse  and  pulled 
out  a  wrinkled  dollar  bill  and  gave  it  to  me  for  no  reason  at  all,  completely  without  provocation.  When  I  tried 
to  refuse,  she  insisted.  I  took  the  dollar.  Probably  bought  a  pack  of  cigarettes  with  it. 

My  luck  since  then  hasn't  been  all  that  good,  but  I'm  still  here,  one  good  lung  left.  And  I've  been 
thinking  a  lot  about  Storm  lately,  who's  still  alive  out  there  somewhere,  and  who  knew  that  I  would  remember 
the  Donnell  Library  debacle  and  the  dollar  she  gave  me  and  would  write  it  all  down  one  day  for  you  to  read. 

—Albert  Kilchesty,  1993 

A  selection  of  poetry  by  Storm  De  Hirsch  is  featured  in  the  upcoming  edition  of  Cinematograph,  available 
June  1,  1993. 


1993  Program  Notes 

THE  PRAGUE  CONNECTION:Videos  by  Helena  Kolda  &  Radek  Pilar 

Artist  Helena  Kolda  in  Person 

May  2,  1993 

Helena  Kolda  and  Radek  Pilar  were  both  born  and  raised  in  Czechoslovakia  during  the  same  period. 
However,  political  events  separated  them  in  1948  when  Ms.  Kolda  left  Prague  soon  after  the  Communist 
takeover,  never  to  return  to  her  native  country  until  forty-two  years  later,  for  a  visit.  She  has  lived  in  New 
York,  Connecticut,  and  San  Francisco,  working  as  a  photographer,  graphic  designer,  photo-collagist,  and 
videomaker. 

Radek  Pilar  became  a  well-known  artist  in  Prague,  working  in  several  media:  printmaking,  photography, 
animation,  experimental  film,  video,  television,  and  multi-media  presentation.  Generations  of  Czech  children 
grew  up  watching  his  imaginative  television  programs. 

Tonight's  program  consists  of  eighteen  short  subjects,  tracing  each  artist's  chronological  development  and 
including  experimental,  contemplative,  and  exuberant  works,  with  an  emphasis  on  personal  style  and 
perspective. 

The  combination  of  work  by  these  two  artists  on  the  same  program  inevitably  raises  questions  of  similarity 
and  difference  in  and  between  their  works:  they  share  the  common  ground  of  their  Czech  heritage,  but  were 
influenced  by  the  extremely  diverse  cultural  environments  of  the  booming  post-war  America  and  the  isolated, 
totalitarian  Czechoslovakia  of  1948-1989. 


All  work  projected  as  3/4"  video,  color,  sound,  approximately  72  minutes  total 

Radek  Pilar: 

Artist's  logo/intro  montage;  53  seconds 

Painting  in  the  Air  (1965);  1  minute 

Colors  (1965);  2  minutes 

Earth,  Light,  Air  (1982);  2  minutes 

Wood  and  Stone  (1989);  5  minutes 

Time  of  Mourning,  8  minutes 

Time  of  Mirth  (1990);  3  minutes 

Mirror  of  Time  (excerpt);  3  minutes 

Flare  Up  (1991);  4  minutes 

Memory  of  Time  (fragment),  45  seconds 

Helena  Kolda: 

My  Eccentric  Cupboard  (1986);  4  minutes 

Noon  Song  (1987);  4  minutes 

The  Saints  (1987);  4  minutes 

Chemo  (1989);  6  minutes 

Sorry  Our  Time  is  Up  (1989);  6  minutes 

Bacchanalia  (1989);  1  minute 

Jungle  Breath  (1990);  3  minutes 

In  the  Piggery  (1990);  2  minutes 

Time  Petrified  (1992);  12  minutes 


31 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

LAST  GENERATION   FILMMAKERS 
Curated  and  Introduced  by  Gregg  Biermann 

May  6,  1993 

Whether  it  is  to  be  in  five  years  or  in  thirty-five  years  we  must  count  on  the  fact  that  film  itself  will  come  to  an 
end.  Perhaps  it  is  the  loss  of  stocks,  formats,  and  equipment,  or  the  encroaching  technologies  of  digital 
electronic  media  that  lead  to  the  perception  that  film  is  losing  its  options  as  a  technology,  and  therefore  as  an 
art  form.  And  perhaps  also,  we  will  value  the  essential  and  exquisite  qualities  of  the  projected  film  image  and 
the  works  which  take  the  fullest  advantage  of  those  qualities  more  at  the  moment  of  their  technological 
obsolescence. 

Commercially  motivated  film  production  has  already  proven  that  its  forms  can  be  transferred  to  electronic 
media  because  the  quality  of  the  image  is  not  important. 

1  would  like  to  suggest  that  this  group  of  filmmakers  is  involved  in  filmmaking  because  they  in  their  own 
unique  ways  are  quietly  and  passionately  in  love  with  this  medium.  Through  their  dedication  they  have  all 
achieved  dimension  in  their  work  that  extends  beyond  the  often  facile  materialist  (structural)  films  that 
preceded  them.  This  last  generation  of  film  artists  whose  work  has  been  centered  in  16mm  films  at  the  end  of 
the  twentieth  century  have  accomplished  unlikely  and  original  styles  which  arc  among  the  most  refined  in  the 
film  medium. 

— Gregg  Biermann 

Circus,  Small,  by  Stephanie  Barber;  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  8  minutes 

Stephanie's  film,  Circus,  Small,  is  an  intimately  expressive  work  of  light,  sound,  and  word.  Without  any 
introductory  trappings  the  film  suddenly  begins,  and  without  any  formal  development  (in  the  strict  sense)  the 
film  moves,  and  suddenly  ends  (without  ending).  The  simple  "rightness"  of  Stephanie's  word  choices,  her 
active  involvement  in  looking  with  the  camera  at  the  outside  world,  and  her  intuitive  sense  of  editing  all  lead  to 
utterly  approachable,  sincere,  and  unpretentious  experience.  Circus,  Small  is  a  film  of  modest  means  that 
achieves  an  extraordinary  sense  of  fullness,  as  layers  of  looking,  hearing,  re-looking,  and  recognizing  play  off 
of  one  another.  (GB) 

Tree  Farm  Energy,  by  Francis  Schmidt;  16mm,  color,  sound,  7  minutes 

Was  the  name  of  my  father's  company  and  farm.  Five  peoples'  point  of  view,  four  people  desperate  to  get  to 
the  same  home  but  not  time.  How  long  ago  was  WWII?  Vietnam?  Who  died  there  and  who  died  elsewhere? 
What  you  want  to  happen  happens  or  does  not  matter.  There  was  no  need  to  look  through  the  camera  because 
it  can  not  see.  Look  through  the  screen.  (FS) 

Love  Letter  to  Galileo  (1992),  by  Ariana  Gerstein;  16mm,  b&w/hand-painted  color,  silent,  7  minutes 
An  inquiry  into  ambiguities  of  distance.  Those  things  closest  to  us  seem  farthest  away  while  that  which 
appears  distant  sometimes  feels  very  near. 

Cinema  is  art  and  science.  The  differentiation  between  the  former  and  the  latter  is  often  unclear.  Light  is 
focused  and  filtered.  A  silver  halide  crystal  is  transformed  by  light  and  chemistry  into  metallic  silver.  Film  is 
measured  and  timed.  The  film  receives  a  pattern  from  light.  During  projection,  film  distills  light  into  its 
pattern.  But  the  final  timing  and  form  of  the  film  takes  place  in  the  viewer's  mind  -  and  this  is  beyond  both 
the  physical  realities  of  the  filmic  structure  and  the  control  of  the  filmmaker.  (AG) 

The  Garden  of  Eden  (1988),  by  Robert  Flowers;  16mm,  color,  sound,  8  minutes 

Robert  calls  his  films  "dark  satires  ...  that  aren't  funny."  His  four  major  works.  The  Garden  of  Eden,  Whatever 
Happened  to  Eve,  Are  There  Fairies  Dancing  on  the  Lawn,  and  Warheads  form  a  unique  and  uncanny  body  of 
work.  These  films  invariably  use  a  wide  variety  of  techniques,  mixing  live  action,  animation,  optical  printing, 


1993  Program  Notes 

video,  and  digital  sampling.  Robert's  films  are  part  diary,  part  biblieal  narrative,  and  yet  his  passion  for  the 
medium  rivals  that  of  Ernie  Gehr,  who  has  remarked  on  Robert's  mastery  over  technique.  (GB) 

A  chaotic,  but  methodical  journey  through  the  (un)realities  of  the  mind  of  an  individual  desperately  reaching 
for  an  escape  from  the  industrialized  society  in  which  he  is  engulfed.  (RF) 

/  Raise  My  Arm  (1993),  by  Elise  Hurwitz:  16mm,  b&w.  silent,  10  minutes 

/  Raise  My  Arm  looks  at  the  surface  of  the  body  as  a  border  between  interior  and  exterior  spaces.  Nothing  is 
really  inscribed  upon  it.  The  surface  of  the  film  assumes  the  function  that  the  surface  of  the  body  renounces: 
description/site  of  meaning.  Different  ways  of  working  activate  the  surface  including  attaching  Super-8 
frames  to  16mm  film  and  bleaching  parts  of  images.  Layers  shift  to  reveal  something  behind,  and  image 
comes  forward  with  its  origins  unknown..  (EH) 

Dream  Cantata  (1992),  by  Kevin  Deal;  16mm,  color,  sound,  13  minutes 

Dream  Cantata  is  a  journey  through  the  landscape  of  my  dreaming  life.  The  film  explores  the  collective 
unconscious  as  a  societal  and  environmental  form  of  checks  and  balances.  By  including  imagery  from 
dreams  that  deal  with  environmental  misuse  and  apocalyptic  situations.  Dream  Cantata  is  a  direct  expression 
of  the  collective  unconscious  as  an  environmental  "whistle  blower."  As  well,  the  film  contains  historical 
places  which  are  often  visited  in  my  dreams  as  my  unconscious  tries  to  give  validity  to  my  life  by  placing  it  in 
time  and  space.  (KD) 

Dream  of  Love,  by  Matt  Chernov;  16mm.  sound,  20  minutes 

Dream  of  Love  is  a  dark,  obsessive,  and  ultimately  romantic  film.  Three  "figures,"  adrift  in  a  hostile 
environment,  struggle  with  themselves  for  survival.  A  return  to  the  Atomic  Age,  and  a  love  story  to  boot. 
Peter  Lorre  dreams  a  soundtrack.  (MC) 

You  Never  Worry  (1992),  by  Gregg  Biermann;  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  20  minutes 

You  Never  Worry  is  a  film  which  contains  fragmented  and  unrelated  subject  matter  that  is  issued  forth 
without  irony.  The  content  of  the  film  is  given  equal  emphasis  with  the  aesthetic  qualities.  This  strategy 
sometimes  creates  situations  in  which  form  and  content  seem  to  be  at  odds  with  one  another.  I  discovered 
this  odd  form  vs.  content  anomaly  in  Giants  of  the  Sea,  particularly  during  the  race  relations  section.  I  sought 
to  push  the  idea  further  and  in  a  more  concentrated  form  with  You  Never  Worry.  My  feeling  about  subject 
matter  is  that  the  subject  never  lends  importance  to  a  work.  It  is  the  way  in  which  the  subjects  are  revealed 
that  is  the  key  to  the  profundity  or  banality  of  the  content.  This  is  related  to  Kant's  term  'disinterest'  -  a 
condition  devoid  of  purposive  interests  (i.e..  ones  with  use).  For  example,  if  my  artistic  judgment  is  clouded 
by  personal  need  then  I  cannot  be  sure  my  works  will  be  of  value  to  someone  with  differing  concerns. 

This  argument  becomes  difficult  to  swallow  when  a  work  seems  to  speak  to  an  urgent,  real  need.  It  was  just 
these  incongruities  that  I  began  to  be  interested  in  when  I  made  You  Never  Worry.  (GB) 


33 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

DO  IT  FOR  MOM!     Videos  &  Films  by  Elizabeth  Sher 
Artist  Elizabeth  Sher  in  person 

May  9,  1993 

The  Training  (1979);  16mm.  color,  sound,  9  minutes 

Juggling  (1981);  16mm,  color,  sound.  14  minutes 

Too   Young  to  Date  (1980);  16mm,  color,  sound,  4  minutes 

Check  Up  (1985);  3/4"  video,  color,  sound,  6  minutes 

Approaching  the  Nth  Moon  (1993,  premiere);  3/4"  video,  color,  sound,  52  minutes 

A  woman  is  considered  to  have  reached  her  menopause  when  she  has  missed  her  monthly  period  for 
one  full  year  (13  moons).  Approaching  the  14th  Moon  looks  at  the  taboos,  health  issues,  emotional,  physical 
and  psychological  implications  inherent  in  the  process  [of  menopause).  Using  an  extensive  series  of 
interviews  with  women  from  across  the  cultural  landscape,  medical  doctors  and  practitioners  of  non- 
traditional  medicine,  the  tape  explores  the  sources  and  diversity  of  the  images  and  myths  surrounding 
menopause  both  as  a  life  passage  and  a  health  dilemma.  Featured  on  the  tape  is  Dr.  Sadja  Greenwood,  author 
of  Menopause  Natural ly.  Issues  of  menopausal  symptoms  are  broadened  to  discuss  what  it  means  to  be  a 
woman  in  the  "second  half  of  life"  (Dr.  Greenwood),  in  a  society  (and  medical  environment)  which  has  given 
this  sector  of  the  population  little  or  no  specific  consideration. 

I  am  very  lucky.  I  am  part  of  the  population  age-group  which  moves  through  life  like  the  elephant  in 
Saint  Exupery's  he  Petit  Prince  moved  through  the  boa  constrictor,  defining  the  "important  issues  of  the  day" 
as  we  go.  When  it  was  time  for  me  to  mate,  the  sexual  revolution  allowed  for  honest  interaction, 
experimentation  and  choice.  When  I  was  pregnant  with  my  two  children,  parents  were  offered  an  expanded 
range  of  natural  and  humane  options  for  the  course  of  pregnancy  and  delivery.  Now  that  I  am  perimenopausal 
(meaning  I  have  symptoms  of  menopause,  but  still  have  my  monthly  period)  I  find,  as  I  begin  my  research, 
that  my  peers  also  want  to  discuss,  demystify,  share,  study,  expose  and  profit  from  this  important  life 
passage. 

Recently  a  deluge  of  media  attention  has  been  focused  on  this  issue.  Almost  as  quickly  it  has 
disappeared.  The  decisions  are  not  simple.  There  is  no  one  answer.  The  videotape  looks  at  ways  to  process  the 
many  different  points  of  view,  responses  to  symptoms  and  treatments,  and  attitude  changes,  so  that  each 
woman  can  make  informed  choices  for  herself.  The  faces  and  voices  of  the  women  will  expose  the  breadth 
and  depth  of  the  experience  which  is  indeed  profound. 

The  tape  was  edited  on  the  D-2  (digital  2)  format  which  provided  the  opportunity  to  present  the 
information  in  a  more  intimate  and  sharing  visual  context.  This  electronic  technology  offers  effects  which  give 
the  tape  a  feeling  of  a  conversation  between  the  more  than  40  women  I  have  interviewed. 

My  art  has  always  interfaced  with  my  personal  process.  For  example,  my  first  film.  The  Training, 
was  made  in  response  to  a  book  which  advocated  using  the  behavior  modification  approach  to  toilet  training. 
Luckily  for  my  son.  I  decided  to  forget  about  his  training  and  make  a  film  satirizing  the  process  instead.  I 
have  made  films  about  the  perils  of  prepubescent  sexuality.  Too  Young  to  Date;  the  difficulties  of  trying  to 
balance  work  and  parenting.  Juggling;  and  an  examination  of  the  fear  of  aging,  Check  Up.  Each  of  these  films 
processed  a  part  of  my  own  life  experience.  Works  in  the  documentary  area  include  videotaped  and  edited 
interviews  with  more  than  two  dozen  artists  from  a  wide  range  of  ages,  cultures  and  media.  These  works  also 
expose  my  own  process  as  I  choose  artists  whose  work  and  words  exploit  my  own  creative  philosophy  as 
well  as  their  own. 

— Elizabeth  Sher 

Berkeley-based  artist  Elizabeth  Sher  moved  from  painting  and  printmaking  to  film  and  video  in  1979.  Her 
films  and  videos  range  in  subject  and  tone  from  "pure"  documentary  to  humorous  fantasy  to  satire  to  abstract 
works.  They  have  won  numerous  awards  at  film  and  video  festivals  in  the  U.S.  and  in  Europe.  She 
conceived  and  produced  the  popular  /.  V.  Magazine  series  -  packages  of  short  video  pieces  assembled  in  the 
"TV  magazine"  format  -  beginning  in  1983.  She  currently  teaches  at  the  California  College  of  Arts  and 
Crafts. 


1993  Program  Notes 

PERSISTENCE  OF  VISIONS:  Animation  from  Northern  California 
Curated  and  Introduced  by  E.S.  Theise 

May  13,  1993 

Northern  California  is  home  to  world  class  commercial  animation  studios,  computer  graphics  labs,  and 
special  effects  houses.  Their  commercials,  music  videos,  and  blockbuster  film  sequences  are  known 
throughout  the  world.  It's  harder  to  see,  but  there  is  also  a  thriving  independent  animation  scene  here.  Some 
makers  work  for  studios  and  pursue  their  own  visions  in  their  "spare"  time.  Some  support  themselves  by 
teaching  or  other  means,  and  produce  animations  as  their  personal  labor  of  love.  Others  are  students  or  recent 
graduates,  still  learning  their  craft,  and  unclear  about  the  place  of  animation  in  their  future.  This  program  of 
films  from  the  past  eight  years  includes  a  sampling  of  work  in  many  techniques  and  formats,  from  computer 
generated  to  cameraless,  pencil  and  paper  to  post-Bros.  Quay  miniatures. 

Flashpoint  (1986)  by  Seth  Olitzky;  16mm,  color,  sound,  5  minutes 

Eights  (1992)  by  Seth  Olitzky;  16mm,  color,  sound,  6  minutes 

Seth  Olitzky,  a  graduate  of  the  UCLA  Animation  Workshop,  has  been  making  computer  generated,  abstract 

films  for  nearly  a  decade.  His  work  keeps  pace  with  high-end  computer  technology  for  the  home  (an  early 

film  was  made  on  a  PCjr),  and  his  uses  of  bright  colors,  symmetric  movement,  and  his  brother's  soundscores 

are  trademarks.   His  work  has  been  distributed  nationally  on  cable  networks,  and  he's  ruminating  over  the 

possibility  of  including  hand  drawn  images  in  his  next  film. 

The  Subtle  Flight  of  Birds  (1991)  by  Steven  Dye;  16mm.  b&w,  silent,  4  minutes 

"Through  the  eye  of  a  bird/then  through  a  world  of  landscapes/populated  with  junk  puppets,  conflict,/then  the 

'subtle  flight'  of  the  soul  from  the  body/of  a  bird,  resolution."  (SD) 

RTC  Vocabulary  Reel  (1993)  by  E.  S.  Theise;  16mm,  color,  silent,  18fps,  4  minutes 

RTC  is  a  dancepiece-in-progress  by  choreographer  Julie  McDonald.  Multiple  film  projections  play  the  role  of 

active,  antagonistic  backdrops;  thus  the  sputtering  and  unpredictable  nature  of  this  footage.  Punctuated  by  live 

action  footage  of  road  reflectors,  this  reel  explores  the  possibilities  of  cameraless  filmmaking  and  has 

accompanied  RTC  at  New  Performance  Gallery  and  other  dance  spaces.  RTC  is  tentatively  scheduled  to  be 

performed  next  in  late  June/early  July  as  part  of  a  residency  and  workshop  series  at  Sight  and  Insight  in  Mill 

Valley. 

Sometimes  (1987)  by  Kim  Tempest;  16mm,  color,  sound,  4  minutes 

Lover  and  producer  of  both  cartoons  and  high  art,  educator  at  De  Anza  College  and  the  California  College  of 
Arts  and  Crafts,  multimedia  animatrix,  and  self-described  maker  of  girl  films,  Kim  Tempest  ...  is  in  Florida 
today.  Sometimes  gently,  fluidly  acts  out  a  poem  of  love  and  vulnerability,  with  simple  —  and  occasionally 
symphonic  —  flourishes. 

Calculated  Movements  (1985)  by  Larry  Cuba;  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  6  minutes 

Larry  Cuba's  earlier  films  —  3/78  and  Two  Space,  set  to  shakuhachi  and  gamelan  —  were  spare,  minimal, 
black  and  white  films  featuring  dots  moving  in  highly  orchestrated,  mirrored  patterns.  I'd  never  seen 
Calculated  Movements  before  today,  although  I've  seen  stills  for  years.  Stills  are  unjust  to  this  film,  for  it 
comes  into  being  entirely  through  its  speed  and  breathtaking  asymmetry.  Even  though  its  vocabulary  is 
limited  —  white  solids  seen  from  high  perspective,  drop  shadows,  and  black  or  staffed  backgrounds  —  its 
visual  impact  goes  far  beyond  the  hyper-realistic,  ray-traced,  megacolor  computer  graphics  so  predominant 
today. 

It's  Time  To...  (1988,  Bay  Area  premiere)  by  Drew  Klausner;  16mm,  color,  sound,  6  min. 
I'm  normally  not  a  fan  of  rotoscoping  (a  technique  that  allows  for  tracing  and  manipulating  live  action 
footage),  but  Drew  Klausner's  tribute  to  his  son  uses  imaginative  color  and  line  work,  and  his  wiping  clock 
hand  is  an  interesting  formal  device  for  marking  the  passage  of  time. 


35 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Wirework  1991-1992  (1992)  by  Michael  Rudnick;  16mm,  color,  silent,  5  minutes 
Okay,  so  Wirework  is  not  an  animated  film,  but  it  deals  with  the  fundamental  concerns  of  animation  so 
clearly  and  directly  that  it  I  had  to  include  it  as  part  of  this  program.   Don't  miss  a  chance  to  see  Rudnick's 
rotating  wire  sculptures  in  person  if  you  can! 

The  Collector  (1993,  premiere)  by  Lana  Bernberg;  16mm,  color,  sound,  10  minutes 

"It's  about  someone  who  spends  his  life  collecting  things,  filling  that  space  with  accumulation  when  what  he 

truly  seeks  cannot  be  collected:  a  vision."  (LB) 

Preludes  in  Magical  Time  (1987)  by  Sara  Petty;  16mm,  color,  sound,  5  minutes 

It  begins  like  many  constructivist-influenced  films.  But  when  the  curtains  blow  across  the  frame,  cutting 
those  unbelievably  beautiful,  hard-edged  curves,  it's  clear  that  this  is  a  Sara  Petty  film  (originally  titled  Picture 
Window).  Set  to  a  selection  from  Bach's  Suites  for  Unaccompanied  Cello,  the  interaction  between  two  and 
three  dimensional  spaces,  the  playful  treatment  of  the  history  of  abstraction  (isn't  that  a  Malevich  constructing 
and  deconstructing  outside  the  window?),  and  the  intricate  color,  shading,  and  texture  work,  make  Preludes  a 
masterwork,  unfortunately  neglected. 

Steve  Reich  for  Two  Projectors  (1990)  by  Jim  Flannery;  16mm,  color,  silent,  indeterminate  duration 
"The  duration  of  the  piece  is  neither  a  punishment  nor  a  dare  for  the  audience;  because  it  is  dependent  upon  the 
projector's  independent  behavior,  it  is  'away  from  [my]  intention.'  My  involvement  ends  with  the  design  of 
the  process;  ultimately,  however,  the  viewer  experiences  the  process,  not  my  design.  I  am  both  in  control  of 
the  process  and  helpless  before  it:  'By  running  this  material  through  this  process  I  completely  control  all  that 
results,  but  also  I  accept  all  that  results  without  changes.'  (Steve  Reich,  Music  as  a  Gradual  Process)"  (JF) 

Long  time  devotee  of  difficult  films  and  musics.  S.F.  State  alumnus  Jim  Flannery  will  be  leaving  the  Bay 
Area  in  the  fall  to  pursue  graduate  film  studies  in  the  midwest. 

Notes  and  program  by  E.S.  Theise 


SPRING  OPEN  SCREEN 

May  14,  1993 


El  Sabor  Rojo  by  Anne-Marie  Schleiner;  1/2"  video,  6  minutes 

The  Allure  of  the  Threshhold  by  Bret  Lama,  16mm,  11  minutes 

Happy  Loving  Couples  by  Doug  Wolens.  3/4"  video,  4:30  minutes 

Love  is  Something  if  You  Give  it  A  way  by  Alison  Earl,  16mm,  4  minutes 

TV  Fan/Sierra  by  Tim  Wilkins,  Super  8,  5  minutes 

A  Little  Ditty  by  N.  Cousin,  1/2"  video,  2:40  minutes 

Untitled  by  Ken  Paul  Rosenthal,  Super  8,  2:40  minutes 

January    91  by  Helga  Weiss,  1/2"  video,  20  minutes 

Untitled  by  Johnny  Rock,  1/2"  video.  15  minutes 

Boy  Frankenstein  by  Susana  Donovan,  1/2"  video,  15  minutes 

Potentia  by  Alex  and  Martha  Nikoloff.  1/2"  video,  8:30  minutes 


1993  Program  Notes 

A  LIFE  IS  NOT  FILM:  The  ALMOST  Complete  Works  of  Dean  Snider 

Dean  Snider  in  Person 

May  15,  1993 

July  4,  1992  marked  the  tenth  anniversary  of  San  Francisco's  Unique  No  Nothing  Cinema,  which  started  in  a 
former  Lamborghini  garage  on  Berry  Street  and  became  the  community's  most  uninhibited  and  accessible 
place  to  screen  personal  films.  At  the  center  of  this  remarkable  grass-roots  activity  remains  Dean  Snider,  a 
steam-engine  of  activity  and  determination  whose  devotion  to  filmmaking  has  inspired  young  and  old  in  the 
Bay  Area  and  throughout  the  United  States.  Dean  plans  to  leave  the  Bay  Area  due  to  Parkinson's  Disease, 
and  the  Cinematheque  with  Film  Arts  Foundation  invites  friends  to  celebrate  Dean's  25  -  year  contribution  to 
the  City's  culture  by  sharing  in  an  evening  of  his  films.  Included  will  be  45  minutes  of  unseen  35mm  work. 


"THE  SPACE  BETWEEN:  Market  Spaces,  Market  Places" 

May  20,  1993 

San  Francisco's  Art  Gallery  and  Shopping  District  will  be  taken  over  for  one  night  with  this  alfresco  program 
of  independent  films.  From  mass  transit  and  bike  messengers  to  urban  neighbors  and  earthquakes,  many 
different  portraits  are  drawn  of  this  place  we  call  home. 

Postmodern  Daydream,  by  Larry  Kless 

Echo  Anthem,  by  Mark  Street 

Across  the  Street,  by  Lynn  Kirby 

Street  Scenes,  by  Richard  Schatzman 

Acceleration,  by  Scott  Stark 

Celebrights,  by  Al  Hernandez 

A  Bad  Day  Cycling  Is  Better  Than  a  Good  Day  at  Work,  by  Bill  Daniel 

City  City  Day  Nite,  by  Alfonso  Alvarez 

//  You  Lived  Here  You  'd  Be  Home  By  Now,  by  Marina  MacDougall 

Panorama,  by  Michael  Rudnick 


ZERO  DEGREES  LATITUDE  by  Steve  Fagin 
Videomaker  Steve  Fagin  in  person 

May  23,  1993 

Zero  Degrees  Latitude  (1993);  3/4"  video,  color,  sound,  60  minutes 

San  Diego-based  video  artist  Steve  Fagin's  latest  work.  Zero  Degrees  Latitude,  is  a  timely,  challenging,  and 
characteristically  unorthodox  look  at  the  so-called  "new  conquest"  of  Latin  America  by  U.S.  interests  of 
various  orders.  The  piece  focuses  specifically  on  religious  evangelization  of  the  indigenous  peoples  of 
Ecuador  in  both  the  Andes  highlands  and  the  Amazon  basin,  and  argues  that  "modernization"  of  this  kind 
(involving  a  specific  North  American  belief  system)  abets  the  disintegration  of  the  tribal  systems  that  had 
bonded  the  indigenous  peoples  into  communities.  A  surreal  grid  of  remarkable  veriti  footage  and  stylized 
studio  shots  are  linked  by  the  voiceover  of  an  aging  gringo  missionary  to  produce  a  surreal  grid  that  creates 
seemingly  implausible  liaisons  that,  unfortunately,  are  all  too  real. 


37 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

A  professor  in  the  Visual  Arts  department  at  the  University  of  California,  San  Diego,  Steve  Fagin  has 
exhibited  his  videos  worldwide.    His  previous  works,  The  Machine  that  Killed  Bad  People  (1990),  The 
Amazing     Voyage     of    Gustave     Flaubert     and     Raymond     Roussel     (1986)     and     Virtual    Play: 
thedoubledirectmonkeywrenchinBlack'smachinery  (1984),  have  all  been  exhibited  by  the  Cinematheque.  His 
work  has  been  reviewed  consistently  in  Afterimage,  October,  and  the  Village  Voice. 


COLUMBUS  ON  TRIAL  by  Lourdes  Portillo 
Artist  Lourdes  Portillo  in  person 

May  27,  1993 

Columbus  on  Trial  (1993);  3/4"  video,  color,  sound,  18  minutes 

Columbus  on  Trial  presents  a  fanciful  version  of  a  courtroom  trial  as  it  might  transpire  in  contemporary 
times,  were  Christopher  Columbus  to  return  from  his  grave  to  take  the  stand.  The  setting  is  an  imaginary 
courtroom  that  serves  as  a  repository  of  memories  and  images  recounting  the  deromanticized  exploits  of  the 
famous  explorer  on  the  island  of  Hispaniola. 

As  the  videotape  begins,  Christopher  Columbus  is  surrounded  by  curious  journalists  eager  to  ask 
questions  that  have  been  stored  up  for  hundreds  of  years.  His  defense  attorney,  Bob  Oso,  fends  off  the  media 
throngs  to  deliver  his  client  to  the  judge,  Justicia  Diaz.  Both  Oso  and  Diaz  are  chicanos,  proud  of  their 
Hispanic  heritage.  The  prosecutor,  Storm  Cloud,  is  a  very  different  kind  of  chicano,  identified  with  his 
people's  Indian  roots.  The  courtroom,  then,  becomes  an  arena  of  expression  for  the  polemics  on  both  sides  of 
the  great  Columbus  debates  of  1992,  the  year  The  New  Yorker  has  sardonically  christened  "a  circus  of  near- 
global  celebration." 

As  the  trial  comes  to  an  end,  all  the  evidence  points  to  the  guilt  of  Columbus.  X,  a  slave  prophet, 
foretells  a  conspiracy  that  will  set  Columbus  free  once  again.  Sure  enough,  the  Hispanic  judge  finds  that  there 
is  insufficient  evidence  to  convict  the  great  man.  Once  again,  defendant  Columbus  is  acquitted  on  account  of 
popular  belief  in  his  discovery  of  something  called  America.  The  story  does  not  end  there,  just  as  our  modern 
myths  have  not  ended  in  courts  of  law  or  history  books.  Victoriously  exiting  the  courtroom,  Columbus  is 
gunned  down  in  cold  blood.  Jack  Ruby-style,  by  a  chicana  teenager.  In  the  ambulance  speeding  away,  the 
ghosts  of  500  years  envelop  him  in  the  truths  and  consequences  of  his  actions. 

Sobriety  has  no  place  in  Columbus  on  Trial.  In  its  courtroom,  satire  and  parody  rule.  Christopher 
Columbus  dances  the  mambo,  Storm  Cloud  cries  crocodile  tears,  and  Bob  Oso  compares  his  client  to  Gerard 
Depardieu.  The  lyrics  and  tunes  of  popular  songs  waft  in  and  out  of  the  proceedings.  Invented  costumes  and 
stylized  sets  give  the  comedy  an  indeterminate  period  setting,  while  the  use  of  modern  video  techniques  place 
the  characters  in  a  constantly  shifting  environment  of  layered  images  (postcards,  archival  footage,  and  postage 
stamps)  that  obliquely  comment  on  the  proceedings. 

Columbus  on  Trial  is  an  unusually  dynamic  piece,  employing  a  complex  visual  construction  to  match 
its  verbal  humor  and  physical  comedy.  Images  are  edited,  collage-like,  interrupting  each  other,  as  a  constant 
run  of  puns  and  gags  interrupts  all  pontificating.  At  last,  people's  desire  to  laugh  at  the  carnivalesque  horrors 
of  history  has  been  granted  full  rein. 

— from  notes  supplied  by  the  artist 

Las  Madres  de  Plaza  de  Mayo  (1986),  co-made  with  Susana  Munoz;  16mm,  color,  sound,  64  minutes 
In  April  1977,  fourteen  mothers  gathered  spontaneously  in  Buenos  Aires'  Plaza  de  Mayo  (in  front  of  the 
Presidential  Palace)  to  protest  the  disappearance  of  their  children  at  the  hands  of  Argentina's  military  junta. 
Unarmed  and  unprotected,  facing  the  vicious  military  police  in  a  country  where  all  civil  liberties  had  been 
suspended,  the  women  felt  they  had  nothing  left  to  lose.  Throughout  the  late  1970s  their  numbers  grew  to 
thousands,  their  organization  solidified  until  Las  Madres,  as  they  came  to  be  called,  became  a  political  force 
that  would  eventually  help  overthrow  the  military  dictatorship. 


1993  Program  Notes 

Interviews  with  the  mothers  (and  some  lathers)  are  interspersed  with  powerful  seencs  from  recent 
Argentinean  history.  There  are  interviews  with  representatives  of  the  junta  themselves,  who  testify  and  even 
glory  in  the  kidnappings  of  30,(XK)  people  by  claiming  that  these  young  men  and  women  were  "part  of  an 
international  marxist  conspiracy."  According  to  their  parents,  most  of  these  people  were  not  revolutionaries, 
simply  young  idealists  who  opposed  the  poverty  and  injustice  plaguing  Argentinean  society.... 

When  the  mothers  first  decided  "to  go  out  into  the  streets"  they  did  not  know  what  would  happen; 
they  simply  felt  they  could  no  longer  grieve  alone.  In  finding  other  women  who  had  lost  children,  thev  not 
only  found  comfort,  they  also  found  a  way  of  making  the  cruelty  of  the  junta  visible.... 

An  early  organizer  of  Las  Madres  was  in  fact  kidnapped,  along  with  a  nun  who  was  helping  the 
cause.  The  two  were  never  seen  again.  Although  branded  by  the  junta  as  "madwomen,"  harassed  and 
attacked,  rejected  by  the  Catholic  Church  hierarchy  who  advised  them  to  pretend  their  children  had  died  of 
natural  causes,  the  mothers  persisted.  Eventually,  they  came  to  the  attention  of  worldwide  religious  and 
amnesty  groups  who  have  raised  money  and  support  for  their  cause.  Due  to  mass  discontent,  and  the  military 
debacle  in  the  Falklands,  the  dictatorship  was  finally  overthrown,  and  the  practice  of  kidnapping  stopped.  Yet 
according  to  the  film,  most  of  those  responsible  for  the  atrocities  have  not  been  brought  to  justice. 

The  new  government  also  advised  the  mothers  to  "forget."  They,  however,  continue  to  press  for 
justice  and  the  return  of  their  children,  although  gruesome  footage  suggests  that  very  few  may  still  be  alive.  In 
one  interview,  a  defector  from  the  military  police  describes  the  method  of  making  kidnap  victims 
"disappear."  Some  were  clubbed  over  the  head  and  thrown  alive  from  helicopters;  others  were  chopped  in 
small  pieces  and  shoved  into  an  oven  in  a  remote  farmhouse.  The  decaying  corpses  of  others  are  shown 
actually  being  gathered  in  plastic  bags.  There  are  scenes  in  this  film  that  can  be  matched  only  by  films  of  the 
Nazi  concentration  camps.  In  fact,  the  atrocities  committed  by  the  junta  suggest  that  lessons  in  cruelty  may 
have  been  learned  from  the  Nazis  who  fled  to  Argentina  after  World  War  II. 

Still,  the  mothers  don't  give  up  hope.... 

Las  Madres  de  Plaza  de  Mayo  is  dedicated  to  "struggling  mothers  everywhere."  Stills  at  the  film's 
conclusion  show  mothers  of  "disappeared"  children  in  Chile,  Guatemala,  Lebanon,  and  Peru.  They  too  hold 
photographs  against  their  hearts  in  mute  protest  against  the  dictatorships  of  the  world.  Through  the  eloquent 
testimony  of  these  loving  mothers,  Portillo  and  Munoz  have  created  an  unforgettable  image  of  social  injustice. 

— Susan  Jhirad,  Cineaste,  Vol.15,  No.  1,  1986 

San  Francisco  resident  Lourdes  Portillo  was  born  in  Mexico,  in  the  state  of  Chihuahua,  and  emigrated  with 
her  family  to  Los  Angeles  when  she  was  thirteen  years  old.  In  1976  she  joined  a  NABET  apprenticeship 
program  and  worked  with  the  Bay  Area  film  group,  Cinemanifest,  on  the  production  of  their  feature  Over, 
Under,  Sideways,  Down.  She  studied  film  at  the  San  Francisco  Art  Institute  with  James  Broughton,  George 
Kuchar,  and  Gunvor  Nelson.  Since  then  her  films  have  been  exhibited  at  festivals  worldwide  and  have 
received  multiple  awards  and  honors.  Las  Madres  ...  received  an  Academy  Award  nomination  in  1986  for 
Best  Documentary.  Columbus  on  Trial  was  included  in  the  Whitney  Museum  of  American  Art's  1993 
Biennial  exhibition,  and  has  also  been  presented  at  the  Sundance  Film  Festival,  and  the  London  Film  Festival. 

Lourdes  Portillo  Film/Videography 

Columbus  on  Trial  (1992);  18  minutes 

Mirrors  of  the  Heart  ( 1992);  60  minutes 

The  Aztec  Myth  of  Creation  (1991);  in  production 

Vida{\99Q) 

La  Ofrenda:  The  Days  of  the  Dead  (1990);  58  minutes,  made  with  Susana  Munoz 

Las  Madres  de  Plaza  de  Mayo  (1986);  64  minutes,  made  with  Susana  Munoz 

Chola  (1982);  screenplay  commissioned  by  American  Playhouse 

Despues  del  Terremoto  ( 1979);  30  minutes 


39 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 


TREASURES  OF  SHADOW  AND   LIGHT: 
Narrative  Avant-Garde  in  the  '20s 

May  30,  1993 


Avant-garde  cinema  blossomed  in  Europe  during  the  ten  years  between  1920  and  1930,  showing  to  a 
skeptical  world  that  film  was  indeed  a  serious  art  form.  This  growing  movement  attracted  painters  and  poets 
who  used  the  materials  of  film  to  expand  upon  the  language  of  conventional  cinema,  focusing  more  on  the 
purely  visual  elements  unique  to  the  cinema.  While  many  film  artists  abandoned  plot,  narration,  and  dramatic 
action  altogether,  others  chose  to  play  with  these  elements  freely,  each  employing  disparate  approaches  to  the 
ordering  of  time  and  space.  The  unfolding  of  events  in  space  -  how  an  element  of  time  can  be  diffused, 
lengthened,  compressed,  or  obliterated  -  is  a  phenomenon  that  these  films  investigate,  each  in  their  own 
different  manner. 

Ghosts  Before  Breakfast  (1928),  by  Hans  Richter;  with  Paul  Hindemith  and  Darius  Milhaud;  16mm, 
b&w,  silent,  9  minutes 

Nothing  is  as  it  seems  in  this  fast  paced  Dada  comedy,  where  heads  spin,  people  disappear  behind  lamp 
posts,  men  stalk  the  camera,  and  everyday  objects  revolt  against  their  usual  roles.  With  a  complete  absence  of 
logical,  causal  relationships,  the  viewer  is  free  to  enjoy  these  humorous  and  uncompromisingly  uninhibited 
frolickings  without  interference  from  a  conventional  narrative  setting. 

Menilmontant  (1925),  by  Dimitri  Kirsanov:  16mm,  b&w,  silent,  36  minutes 

An  unforgettable  depiction  of  one  woman's  trials  and  tribulations.  A  young  woman,  who  early  in  the  film 
witnesses  the  brutal  axe  murder  of  her  parents,  finds  her  way  into  the  city  where  she  is  ultimately  seduced  by 
a  man  who  ends  up  leaving  her.  Kirsanov's  sensitive  handling  of  her  loneliness  and  rejection  is  a  triumph  of 
the  lyric  imagination. 

The  brilliant  display  of  atmosphere,  the  loneliness  of  narrow  streets,  churning  currents  under  city  bridges — all 
poignantly  render  her  emotional  turmoil.  The  rain  and  cold  felt  through  these  images  evoke  a  powerful  sense 
of  isolation  within  the  confines  of  the  setting,  where  dreamlike  episodes  often  seem  more  crisp  and  intense 
than  reality. 

Blending  conventional  narration  with  elements  deriving  from  Soviet  montage,  Kirsanov  creates  a  truly 
visionary  film  with  a  picturesque  setting  and  moving  dramatic  performances. 

The  Seashell  and  the  Clergyman  (1928),  by  Germaine  Dulac,  scenario  by  Antonin  Artaud;  16mm, 
b&w.  silent,  39  minutes 

The  Seashell  and  the  Clergyman  is  considered  one  of  the  first  surrealist  films.  A  visualization  of  Antonin 
Artaud's  scenario,  Dulac's  film  plumbs  the  depths  of  the  subconscious  and  repressed  sexuality  in  a 
sophisticated  narrative  combining  elements  of  tradition  with  brilliantly  inventive  camerawork.  Her  vision 
brings  inanimate  objects  to  the  forefront  -a  seashell,  a  glass  ball  -  that  are  transformed  by  Dulac  into  trans- 
symbolic  representative  of  emotional  and  psychological  states. 

Surviving  a  nasty  outburst  by  Artaud  and  his  surrealists  friends,  the  film  caused  a  riot  in  the  theater  at  its 
premiere  in  1928.  It  has  been  suggested  that  Artaud  actually  had  wished  for  more  involvement  in  the  film's 
making,  which  caused  him  to  be  so  bitter  towards  Dulac's  realization  of  his  scenario. 

Although  she  is  still  linked  with  the  surrealists.  Germaine  Dulac  never  viewed  herself  as  a  member  of  that 
group.  She.  in  fact,  was  more  interested  in  promoting  film  as  a  "pure"  art  form,  with  its  own  distinct  and 
unique  language,  rather  then  having  it  exist  as  a  handmaiden  to  other  interests  and  agendas. 


1993  Program  Notes 

The   Fall  of  the   House   of  Usher  (1928).  directed  by  Jean  Epstein,  assistant  director:  Luis  Bunuel; 
16mm.  b&w,  silent.  51  minutes 

In  an  interview  Jean  Epstein  was  asked,  "Are  realist  films  the  essence  of  cinema  for  you?"  In  an  account  of 
his  replies.  Epstein  stated.  "I  didn't  answer  him  at  all.  for  I  confess  not  to  know  what  realism  is  in  matters  of 
art.  It  seems  to  me  that  if  an  art  is  not  symbolic,  it  is  not  an  art...." 

Jean  Epstein's  last  film  before  he  broke  with  the  avant-garde  movement  is  based  on  the  tales  of  Edgar  Allan 
Poe.  The  mysterious  house  of  Usher  is  visited  by  a  friend  who  finds  Roderick  following  the  family  tradition 
of  painting  his  wife's  portrait  with  such  passion  that  he  draws  the  life  from  her  to  put  it  into  his  picture. 
Refusing  to  accept  her  death,  he  declines  to  have  her  coffin  nailed  shut.  Everything  in  this  film  is  subordinated 
to  the  creation  of  atmosphere.  Misty,  fog-shrouded  scenes,  slow  motion  filming,  low  angles,  lighting,  and 
camera  tricks  lend  themselves  to  eerie  supernatural  effects.  Epstein  was  a  cinema  theoretician  and  the  maker 
of  the  important  Impressionist  film  Couer  Fidele  (1923).  After  this  film  he  launched  a  series  of  lyric 
documentaries  among  the  fishermen  of  Brittany,  and  found  a  new  use  for  slow-motion  in  drawing  emotional 
performances  from  nonactors.  (MOMA,  Circulating  Film  Library  Catalogue) 

Epstein  lyrically  handles  the  motion  of  time  in  this  film.  Narration  is  gracefully  intermingled  with  slow 
moving  figures,  surroundings  fading  in  and  out  of  light  sources,  and  the  interplay  of  stills  and  titles  that ,  for 
Epstein,  provide,  "a  rest  for  the  eye,  punctuation  for  the  mind." 

Notes  by  Elizabeth  Dee 


STAN  BRAKHAGE:  3  NEW  WORKS 

June  3,  1993 

This  evening's  program  is  the  third  presented  this  season  by  the  Cinematheque  to  feature  recent  films  by  Stan 
Brakhage.  Earlier  programs  included  the  complete  Visions  in  Meditation  and  a  number  of  his  exquisite  hand- 
painted  films,  including  Delicacies  of  Molten  Horror  Synapse. 

Blossom — Gift  /Favor  (1993);  16mm,  color,  silent,  30  seconds 

This  short  hand-painted  film  will  be  shown  twice.  First  at  18fps  and  then,  following  Boulder  Blues  and  Pearls 

and  ....d\  24fps. 

Boulder  Blues  and  Pearls  and...  (1992):  16mm,  color,  sound,  22  minutes,  music  by  Rick  Corrigan. 
Peripheral  envisionment  of  daily  life  as  the  mind  has  it — i.e.,  a  terrifying  ecstasy  of  (hand-painted)  synapting 
nerve  ends  back-firing  from  thought's  grip  of  life.  (S.B.) 

A  Child's  Garden  and  the  Serious  Sea  (1991);  16mm,  color,  silent,  80  minutes 
In  poet  Ronald  Johnson's  great  epic  Ark.  in  the  first  book  Foundations,  the  poem  "Beam  29"  has  this 
passage:  "The  seed  is  disseminated  at  the  gated  mosaic  a  hundred  feet/  below,  above/  long  windrows  of 
motion/  connecting  dilated  arches  undergoing  transamplification:/  'seen  in  water  so  clear  as  christian'/  (prairie 
tremblante)"  which  breaks  into  musical  notation  that,  "presto,"  becomes  a  design  of  spatial  tilts:  This  is  where 
the  film  began;  and  I  carried  a  xerox  of  the  still  unpublished  ARC  50  through  66  all  that  trip  with  Marilyn  and 
Anton  around  Vancouver  Island.  As  I  wrote  him.  "the  pun  'out  on  a  limn'  kept  ringing  through  my  mind  as  I 
caught  the  hairs  of  side-light  off  ephemera  of  objects  tangent  to  Marilyn's  childhood:  She  grew  up  in  Victoria: 
and  there  I  was  in  her  childhood  backyard...":  and  then  there  was  The  Sea — not  as  counter-balance  but  as 
hidden  generator  of  it  all,  of  The  World  to  be  discovered  by  the/any  child  ...  as  poet  Charles  Olson  has  it: 
"Vast  earth  rejoices,/  deep-swirling  Okeanos  steers  all  things  through  all  things,/  everything  issues  from  the 
one,  the  soul  is  led  from  drunkeness/  to  dryness,  the  sleeper  lights  up  from  the  dead,/  the  man  awake  lights  up 
from  the  sleeping."  {Maximus,  from  "Dogtown — I") 

— Stan  Brakhage,  verbatim  from  Canyon  Cinema  Catalog  #7 


41 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Stan  Brakhage's  subject  has  frequently  been  himself  but  A  Child's  Garden  and  the  Serious  Sea...  is  biography 
once  removed.  The  film  was  shot  on  Vancouver  Island,  where  Brakhage's  second  wife,  Marilyn,  grew  up.... 

At  80  minutes,  A  Child's  Garden  is  Brakhage's  longest  film  since  Tortured  Dust,  his  last  portrait  of  his  first 
family,  and  he  uses  a  lifetime  of  polished  techniques — prisms,  diffusion  lenses,  sudden  camera  movements, 
percussive  shifts  in  exposure,  oversaturated  colors,  tricks  of  scale — to  suggest  Marilyn's  world  as  an 
enchanted  island  in  the  midst  of  some  pellucid  sea.  Despite  the  typically  jagged  rhythms  and  the  occasional 
shock-cut  (from  reflected  full  moon  to  shimmering  clear  water),  the  pace  is  leisurely  and  the  structure  fluid:  a 
sun-dappled  lawn,  with  a  crawling  baby  glimpsed  at  the  top  of  the  frame,  dissolves  into  a  correspondingly 
dappled  ocean. 

Whales  and  starfish  frisk  around  this  green  haven.  The  imagery  in  the  first  half  of  A  Child's  Garden  is  almost 
completely  natural;  the  movie's  title  invites  elemental  metaphors.  Behold  the  rainbow  forest,  the  bower  of 
night,  the  sky  of  fiery  turquoise,  the  mountains  of  mist,  the  crystal  sea.  (Is  that  a  ruby  or  a  bicycle  reflector?) 
Gradually,  some  sort  of  amusement  park  begins  to  insinuate  itself  into  the  montage  of  El  Greco  skies  and 
Turner  seas.  Flashes  of  murals,  fountains,  people  playing  miniature  golf  suggest  a  fairy-tale  village  or  Oz-like 
dream.... 

—J.  Hoberman,  The  Village  Voice,  Feb.  9,  1993 

We  are,  all  of  us,  obsessed  with  what  we  once  had  but  no  longer  possess.  For  some,  the  irretrievable  dwells 
in  material  forms  or  physical  embodiments — the  simple  loss  of  a  favorite  photograph  or  book,  or  the  graver 
loss  of  one's  health  or  the  departure  of  a  loved  one.  For  others,  the  objects  of  obsession  are  more  abstract, 
their  loss  perhaps  more  harrowing  because  they  ravage  and  corrode  the  intellect — the  loss  of  reason,  the  loss 
of  innocence,  the  loss  of  childhood's  wonder  and  abandon. 

Stan  Brakhage  has  spent  a  substantial  portion  of  his  artistic  career  in  relentless  pursuit  of  the  latter.  More  than 
any  other  American  filmmaker,  Brakhage  has — for  four  decades — passionately  plumbed  the  depths  of  his 
own  psyche  in  an  attempt  to  re -discover  the  primal  innocence  of  vision,  to  film  the  world  the  way  a  child's 
unschooled  eye  sees  it.  In  his  many  writings  and  films — from  the  often-quoted  and  frequently  parodied 
"How  many  colors  are  there  in  a  field  of  grass  to  the  crawling  baby  unaware  of  the  word  'green'?"  in 
Metaphors  On  Vision,  to  films  like  Scenes  from  Under  Childhood  Agnes  Dei  Kinder  Synapse,  Sexual 
Meditation:  Open  Field,  and  many  others — Brakhage  has  pursued  with  grail-quest  intensity  an  elevated  state 
of  perpetual  wonderment  and  amazement  akin  to  that  which  a  child's  mind/eye  would  see. 

While  his  attempts  to  do  so  have  sometimes  fallen  short,  his  recent  long  film  A  Child's  Garden  and  the 
Serious  Sea  certainly  does  not.  The  film  exudes  beauty,  freshness  and  joy.  Images  wash  over  the  viewer  in 
sensuous  waves — limpid,  inviting,  ultimately  intoxicating.  This  co-mingling  of  earth  and  sea,  the  twin  lost 
worlds  of  Eden  and  Atlantis,  "limns"  the  edges  of  consciousness  with  organic  ecstasy.  Periodic  flashes  of 
sun  and  sky  snap  the  mind  to  attention  like  the  tang  of  the  salt  sea  in  one's  nostrils  only  to  disappear  again 
immediately  beneath  the  swelling  tide. 

A  Child's  Garden  slowly  leads  the  viewer  through  the  childhood  world  of  Brakhage's  second  wife,  Marilyn. 
While  viewing  the  film  I  almost  thought  I  could  hear  the  filmmaker  saying,  "My  God!  What  an  exquisite  and 
enchanted  place  to  have  been  a  child.  What  must  it  have  been  like  for  her  to  grow  up  within  arm's  reach  of  the 
sea  and  its  nacreous  treasures:  to  splash  through  tide  pools  inhabited  by  quivering  starfish,  to  swim  with  the 
whales,  to  absorb  the  sea's  tranquillity  and  its  wrath,  to  drink  aquamarine  with  one's  eyes?"  As  Hoberman 
notes  above,  this  film  is  unique  among  Brakhage's  work  in  its  attempt  to  visualize  the  germinating 
consciousness  of  an  Other,  and  not  that  of  the  maker  himself.  In  previous  films  where  Brakhage  has  turned 
his  camera  onto  another's  world,  he  succeeds  more  often  in  merely  imposing  his  will  on  that  world  than  in 
capturing  the  unique  essence  of  it.  For  example,  in  The  Loom  (1986) — a  meditation  on  the  backyard 
menagerie  kept  by  his  first  wife,  Jane — Brakhage's  will  to  possess  almost  turns  the  film  into  an 
(unintentional)  portrait  of  the  wild  soul's  entrapment  by  the  penitentiary  of  marriage.  (That's  an  admittedly 
biased  reading  based  retrospectively  on  the  knowledge  that  Stan  and  Jane's  marriage  of  many  years  was  about 
to  dissolve.)  In  contrast.  The  Child's  Garden  succeeds  quite  beautifully  in  its  empathetic  embrace  of  Marilyn's 


1993  Program  Notes 

backyard  wonderland.  Brakhagc's  immersion  in  Marilyn's  world  is  whole,  complete,  utter.  The  film's  great 
beauty  is  exactly  this — it  is  rooted  in  the  maker's  sublime  and  profound  love  tor  another  human  being.  It's 
almost  as  though  Brakhage  is  insisting  that  the  act  of  seeing  with  one's  own  eyes  is  no  longer  enough;  to 
approach  the  world  with  compassion  and  love,  we  must  first  start  seeing  through  the  eyes  of  others  as  well. 

—Albert  Kilchesty 


LANDSCAPE  OF  THE  MIND:  The  Films  of  Chris  Welsby 
Chris  Welsby  in  Person 

June  6,  1993 

The  question  "Is  it  relevant  to  be  producing  landscape  art  in  the  latter  half  of  the  twentieth  century?"  is  a 
question  which,  when  engaged  in  making  or  exhibiting  my  work  is  always  uppermost  in  my  thoughts. 

The  work  is,  not  surprisingly,  classified  under  the  general  art  historical  term  "Landscape  Art"  and 
undeniably  exhibits  certain  links  with  the  history  of  that  genre.  However,  there  is  a  fundamental  difference  in 
attitude  which  underlies  my  approach  to  the  subject  matter  and  sets  my  work  apart  from  most  of  its  historical 
counterparts.  This  attitude  is  inscribed  both  in  the  form  and  content  of  every  film.  Inevitably,  the  content  is  so 
heavily  charged  with  both  art  historical  references  and  popular  connotations  that  the  intended  meaning  may 
well  be  overlooked.  Certain  preconceived  notions  about  landscape  must  be  laid  aside. 

My  primary  concern  is  with  the  area  of  epistemology  which  deals  with  the  definition  of,  and 
relationship  between  'mind'  and  'nature'.  Briefly,  'mind'  can  be  defined  as  ideas/concepts/paradigms  and 
'nature'  as  constituting  all  things  and  attributes  which  do  not  fall  within  this  description  of  'mind'.  Neither  of 
these  categories  is  mutually  exclusive  but  must  be  regarded  as  two  relational  sets,  whose  permutation  at  a 
particular  moment  in  time  may  constitute  a  holistic  model  of  the  world.  To  think  otherwise  would  come  close 
to  the  error  inherent  in  Cartesian  dualism.  It  is  the  constantly  shifting  interface  between  these  dual  concepts 
which  lies  at  the  core  of  my  attitude  towards  landscape  in  art. 

Each  of  my  films  is  a  separate  attempt  to  re -define  the  interface  between  'mind'  and  'nature.'  Although 
specified  or  at  least  implied  in  any  one  piece  of  work,  this  delineation  is  constantly  changed  and  adapted  both 
as  a  definition,  at  a  material,  and  as  a  working  model  at  a  conceptual  level,  to  each  unique  situation  or  location. 
Without  this  essentially  cybernetic  view  of  the  relationship  between  'mind'  and  'nature',  a  view  in  which  the 
relation  between  the  two  operates  as  a  homeostatic  loop,  'nature'  becomes  nothing  more  than  potential  raw 
material  at  the  disposal  of 'mind'  acting  upon  it.  This  raw  material  is  most  visibly  manifest  in  that  subdivision 
of 'nature'  termed  'landscape.'  The  wilder  and  more  remote  this  landscape  is,  the  further  it  is  removed  from, 
and  the  less  it  exhibits  those  signs  which  mark  the  activities  of  'mind.'  Technology  is  both  a  subdivision  of 
'nature'  and  an  extension  of  'mind.'  Viewed  within  these  terms  of  reference  the  camera,  as  a  product  of 
technology,  is  not  a  window  into  the  world  but  a  potential  interface  between  'mind'  and  'nature':  'nature' 
masquerading  as  'mind',  and  'mind'  manifest  in  'nature.' 

Advanced  technology  is  simultaneously  the  most  useful  and  the  most  dangerous  facet  of  our 
exogenous  evolution.  Without  a  full  understanding  of  its  significance  and  unless  we  develop  a  coherent 
epistemology  which  includes  technology  in  our  relation  to  the  world,  our  chances  of  survival,  together  with 
the  possibility  of  a  tolerable  life  are  non-existent. 

Left  to  run  its  own  course,  evolution  will  remain  a  primarily  pragmatic  operation  and  we  will  be  left 
with  no  option  but  to  read  the  instruction  manual  having  first  played  with  the  technological  toy.  It  is  becoming 
increasingly  apparent  that  the  product  is  not  guaranteed  against  accidental  (or  intentional)  damages  inflicted 
upon  the  user  or  any  third  party,  irrespective  of  the  circumstances  under  which  this  damage  may  occur. 
— Chris  Welsby,  Landscape  Art  in  the  Twentieth  Century?,  1980 

Windmill  II  (1973);  16mm,  color,  sound,  8  minutes 

The  camera  films  a  park  landscape  through  the  mirrored  blades  of  a  small  windmill.  The  film  was  shot  in 

three  continuous  100  ft.  takes.  The  camera  angle  remained  the  same  throughout.  Variations  in  wind  speed 


43 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

cause  a  constantly  shitting  relationship  between  the  blades  of  the  windmill  and  the  reflection  of  the  camera 
with  the  landscape  behind  it. 

Stream  Line  (1976);  16mm.  color,  sound.  8  minutes 

This  film  was  made  on  Mount  Kinderscout  in  Derbyshire.  It  was  a  continuous  real  time  tracking  shot  of  a 
stream  bed.  The  length  of  the  track  was  ten  yards.  The  camera  was  suspended  in  a  motorized  carriage  running 
on  steel  cables  three  feet  above  water  surface.  The  sound  of  the  water  was  recorded  synchronously  from  the 
moving  carriage. 

Sky  Light  (1988);  16mm,  color,  sound,  26  minutes 

This  film  is  a  "short"  creation  myth  which  challenges  the  notion  of  its  own  form,  and  ends  in  beautiful  and 
violent  abstraction  in  which  only  nature  and  technology  remain.  The  film  is  in  three  sections,  each  leading 
further  towards  the  final  abstraction  and  each  resembling  a  search  for  meaning  and  order  amidst  a  plethora  of 
electronic,  chemical  and  mechanistic  information.  Space  in  this  film  is  both  highly  compressed  and  volatile.... 

The  idea  for  the  film  goes  back  to  a  summer  day  48  hours  after  the  Chernobyl  disaster.  I  took  our  one-year- 
old  daughter  to  Kew  Gardens.  It  was  overcast,  and  a  light  rain  was  falling.  The  clouds  were  punctuated  by 
747's  on  course  for  Heathrow.  Exotic  shrubs  and  plants  drank  up  the  moisture  falling  from  the  sky... 

Sea  Pictures  (1992);  16mm,  color,  sound,  36  minutes 

Sea  Pictures  is  a  film  about  hope  and  despair.  Hope  that  the  planet  will  not  be  engulfed  in  a  tide  of 
indifference,  greed  and  violence.  Hope,  like  that  of  any  parent,  that  my  child  will  have  the  chance  to  live  her 
life  with  some  expectation  of  good  health  and  the  opportunity  for  happiness.  Despair  that  I  should  have  to  tell 
my  eight-year-old  that  she  can't  go  to  the  beach  today  because  the  ocean  is  poisonous  and  the  sunlight  will 
give  her  cancer. 

In  the  film  a  small  child  is  building  a  sandcastle  on  a  deserted  beach.  In  the  background  the  glass  and  steel 
towers  of  a  city  dominate  the  horizon.  A  succession  of  landscape  and  cityscape  images  weave  dream-like 
patterns  on  the  screen.  The  reverie  is  broken  by  the  staccato  bombardment  of  TV  images.  The  child  builds 
on,  absorbed  by  the  process  of  creativity.  The  dream-like  images  return,  light  and  water  combine  in  tiny 
waves  ...  the  tide  advances,  alternately  obscuring  and  revealing  a  childhood  tide  pool. 

Sea  Pictures  is  firstly  about  my  experience  as  a  newcomer  to  the  Pacific  Northwest.  It  is  also  about  the  way  in 
which  the  political  and  economical  forces  (though  not  the  hardships)  at  work  in  the  region  can  stand  in  for  the 
environmental  situation  on  a  global  scale. 

The  film  puts  it  more  simply: 

1)  The  rainforest  of  the  second  section  of  the  film  is  a  major  natural  resource. 

2)  The  modern  highrise  city  of  the  third  section  is  paid  for  by  the  trees  or  the  mines  or  whatever  else  is 
required  to  oil  the  wheels  of  economic  growth. 

3)  Fire  as  represented  in  part  five  is  used  by  the  logging  industry,  is  used  to  make  the  glass  and  steel  in  part 
three  and  is  used  in  conflict,  riots  and  warfare. 

4)  The  tide  pools  of  parts  one  and  seven  are  included  to  represent  a  beautiful  but  very  fragile  ecosystem  which 
is  under  constant  threat  from  unsound  logging  practices,  oil  spills  and  toxic  waste  from  factories  and  cities. 
(The  future  is  being  decided  here.  They  live — perhaps  we  live). 

5)  The  television  in  part  six  is  intended  to  represent  both  a  driving  force  for  and  a  commentary  on  the  process 
of  economical  development  and  consumption  in  which  greed,  violence  and  environmental  destruction  are 
major  players. 

6)  The  little  girl  on  the  beach  is  my  daughter.  Sarah.  She  represents  my  parental  hopes  and  fears  for  the  future. 
She  is  building  a  sandcastle  and  wondering  at  and  about  her  surroundings  (and  the  film  in  which  she  is  a 
participant).  Her  creativity  is  crucial,  her  childhood  is  vital,  her  realization  as  the  tide  threatens  her  efforts  ...  is 
her  own.  I  am  making  a  film  and  she  is  making  a  sandcastle  ... 

(All  notes  by  the  filmmaker) 


1993  Program  Notes 

AS  SHE  LIKES  IT: 
Short  Films  by  Austrian  Women 

June  10,  1993 

The  Cinematheque  is  pleased  to  present  Part  I  of  a  two-part  survey  of  recent  experimental  films  made  by 
Austrian  women.  The  selection  of  films  in  this  touring  program  were  made  by  Viennese  curator  Claudia 
Preschl.  The  program  is  distributed  by  Sixpack  Film,  Vienna,  and  received  its  premiere  in  July  1992  at  the 
London  Filmmakers  Coop.  Program  II  will  be  screened  at  the  Pacific  Film  Archive,  2625  Durant  Avenue, 
Berkeley  at  7:30  PM  on  Thursday,  June  17. 

Livingroom  (1991),  by  Sabine  Hiebler&  Gerhard  Ertl;  16mm,  sound,  5  minutes 

Livingroom  is  a  film  defining  reality,  concepts  of  reality  and  levels  of  reality  and  how  they  are  networked  with 

one  another.  The  subjective  perception  and  interpretation  of  each  individual  level  of  reality  produces  a  dense 

individual  reality  network — everyone  lives  in  their  own  world.  The  polarity  of  male  and  female  reality 

perception,  for  example 

— Different  cinematic  language  and  camera  work 

— Gender  specific  portrayal  on  screen 

The  finish  of  various  materials  we  use  (solarization,  negative  film,  grain,  and  various  types  of  color 

processing)  in  terms  of  film  correspond  to  the  various  facets=realities/distortions  of  reality.  We  assemble  this 

material  using  short  cuts,  like  a  mosaic,  into  a  new  reality.  — Fusion  of  Reality 

Semiotic  Ghosts  (1991),  by  Lisl  Ponger;  16mm,  color,  sound,  18  minutes 

Lisl  Ponger  has  made  ten  films  in  the  last  ten  years.  Each  one  is  a  game  with  time,  symbols  and  their 
significance,  and  the  change  of  light  and  darkness.  Semiotic  Ghosts  is  her  first  sound  film,  a  succession  of 
associative,  mostly  static  pictures  showing  motives  such  as  a  passing  pleasure  boat  hung  with  strings  of 
lights,  an  artiste  throwing  knives,  fish  circling  in  spirals  and,  repeatedly,  people  at  work.  The  link  between  the 
pictures  develops  from  geometric  forms  such  as  a  square,  a  circle  or  a  triangle.  The  accompanying  music  is 
provided  by  an  Egyptian  string  orchestra  composed  entirely  of  blind  girls.  However,  it  is  not  music  as  it  is 
understood  in  the  usual  sense;  only  the  tuning  of  the  instruments  is  heard  and  only  towards  the  end  do  a  few 
bars  of  Mozart  become  recognizable.  — Bernhard  Praschl 

Kugelkopf  (1985),  by  Mara  Mattuschka;  16mm,  sound,  6  minutes 
Parasympathica  (1986),  by  Mara  Mattuschka;  16mm,  5  minutes 
Les  Miserable s  (1987),  by  Mara  Mattuschka;  16mm,  2  minutes 

Es  hat  mich  sehr  gefreut  (I  have  been  very  pleased)  (1987),  by  Mara  Mattuschka;  16mm,  2  minutes 
Anyone  who  has  seen  the  films  of  Mara  Mattuschka — alias  Mimi  Minus — knows  that  she  likes  to  sound  out 
binary  opposition,  to  go  to  the  limits  and  explore  the  breaks  which  they  create.  Her  interest  in  the  world  is  still 
determined  by  ambivalence,  just  as  if  ambivalence  were  a  relationship  with  the  unmastered — and  one  relates 
ambivalently  to  something  one  never  actually  mastered  and  from  which,  I  feel,  one  is  not  able  to  withdraw 
from  in  such  a  hurry.  Of  course,  Mara  Mattuschka  connects  her  efforts  with  the  sensual  qualities  of 
experience,  with  an  exacting  look  at  and  listen  to  herself  and  the  world.  Entwined  with  the  grasping  and 
mirroring  of  herself,  admiring  herself  in  the  mirror  as  someone  else.  She  is  narcissistic  to  the  same  extent  and 
is  enchanted  by  looking  at  her  own  body. 

In  Parasympathica  she  opens  her  eyes  at  the  beginning  and  from  then  on  enjoys  the  probing  of  the  female  and 
male  viewers.  She  knows  how  to  stress  her  materiality  emotionally.  She  smiles  from  under  her  now  brittle 
black/white  mask,  flirts  with  and  ogles  at  the  audience,  pulls  faces  and  seems  threatening — especially  when 
she  gets  too  close  to  her  audience  with  her  nostrils  flaring,  the  corners  of  her  mouth  forced  way  apart  and  her 
eyes  wide  open.  — Claudia  Preschl,  1990 

Savannah  Bay  (1989),  by  Astrid  Ofner;  16mm,  14  minutes 

The  film  tries  to  retain  the  memory,  the  compulsion  and  the  nostalgia  of  a  text  by  Marguerite  Duras. 
Savannah  Bay  is  an  imaginary  landscape  whose  pictures  find  their  home  exclusively  in  language.  In  Astrid 
Ofner's  [film],  bare  surfaces  therefore  dominate.  Space  remains  abstract.  Stage,  studio,  screen — with  this 


45 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

minimalist  approach  a  sensuality  develops  which  concentrates  entirely  on  the  voices,  gestures,  looks  and 
movements  of  the  performers,  without  these  elements  being  reduced  to  one  single  meaning.  They  are  fluid. 
Savannah  Bay  remains  a  white  dot  on  the  map.  — Christian  Frosch,  1991 

Inoten  (1991),  by  PRINZGAU/podgorschek;  16mm,  14  minutes 

An  experimental,  personal  and  ironic  feature  consisting  of  conversations  about  art  in  Vienna,  France  and 

Switzerland,  Inoten  is  a  series  of  sequences  which  change  rapidly.  Images  and  soundtrack  are  edited  on  top  of 

each  other,  contradictory  pictures  appear  superimposed,  move  in  different  directions  and  are  sometimes 

projected  on  moving  elements.  The  projection  of  a  film  image  on  a  horse  is  a  fine  example  of  the  latter. 

Within  the  film,  different  media  are  used  such  as  Super  8,  16mm  and  video. 

The  makers  call  this  film  an  'Artern,  "  a  combination  of  art  film  and  western — a  playful  and  consciously 

puzzling  poetic  treatment  on  the  idiots  and  exoten  in  the  arts  world.  The  "Artern"  is  obviously  not  a  film 

about  art,  but  a  work  of  art  in  itself.  An  artwork  made  with  the  raving  nonsense  often  vented  by  connoisseurs. 

The  makers  juxtapose  art  analysis  with  verbal  and  visual  poetry.         — Gertjan  Zuilhof 

Syntagma  (1983),  by  Valie  Export;  16mm,  color,  sound,  18  minutes 

The  body  and  specifically  the  "woman's  body"  is  often  used  as  a  focus  for  questions  of  origin,  subject-object 
relations,  political  resistance  and  sexuality.  It  may  appear  that  this  is  also  the  central  issue  of  Syntagma,  yet 
Valie  Export's  notion  of  "body  language"  poses  an  ironic  relation  to  these  questions  that  actually 
acknowledges  "the  end  of  the  body"  or  at  least  the  final  break  with  the  way  in  which  we  understand  it  to  be  a 
biological,  existential,  or  metaphysical  entity.  Export  has  broken  away  from  any  notions  of  unity — either  of 
body,  space  or  time — into  a  fragmented  world  of  doubling  and  difference  that  is  caught  in  representation. 
Through  a  vision  that  is  tactile  without  contact  she  depicts  the  non-coincidence  of  the  present  with  itself — the 
schizophrenic  breakdown  of  identity.  The  "body"  and  its  metaphors — mattresses,  textbooks,  printed 
photographic  paper,  t.v.  monitors,  etc. — are  all  shown  in  the  film  as  "speaking":  however,  "body  speech" 
does  not  issue  from  a  place  of  cohesion,  but  as  a  selected  movement,  like  circuitry  within  a  system... 

— Valerie  Manenti 


OUT  OF  THE  LOOP:  NAIVE  FILMMAKERS  AND  THEIR  WORK 
Oddities  from  the  Prelinger  Archives  presented  by  Rick  Prelinger 

June  13,  1993 

This  program  celebrates  the  achievements  of  lone,  unschooled  nontheatrical  filmmakers — the  thousands  of 
mom-and-pop  shops  that  found  their  own  niches  in  the  industry  and  survived  against  competition  as  best  they 
could.  Unlike  larger  studios  that  cranked  out  film  after  film  designed  to  instruct  or  sell,  these  producers  often 
refused  to  master  the  rules  of  good  filmmaking,  perhaps  because  they  had  never  learned  them.  The  few 
examples  that  have  survived  from  their  huge  output  constitute  one  of  film's  last  frontiers — celebrating  their 
makers'  naivete\  inventing  their  own  technique  while  following  unpredictable  paths,  unafraid  to  be  surreal. 

Preventing  the  Spread  of  Disease  (1940),  National  Motion  Picture  Company;  16mm,  sound,  10  minutes 
As  films  age,  their  messages  often  recede  into  the  background.  In  fact,  if  Preventing  the  Spread  teaches  us 
anything  today,  it's  the  risks  of  cinematic  innovation.  Every  device  employed  by  its  makers  (who  also 
produced  the  creepy  Told  By  A  Tooth  in  1939)  calls  attention  to  itself  while  distracting  the  viewer  from  the 
main  point. 


1993  Program  Notes 

St.  Paul  Police  Detectives  and  Their  Work  (c.  1941).  producer  unknown;  16mm.  Kodachrome. 
sound.  9  minutes. 

A  "Color  Chartoon."  Low  budgets  can  sometimes  turn  ordinary  ideas  into  great  films.  Mixing  cliched 
images,  poetic  metaphors  and  gritty  police  statistics,  this  cheapie  stands  alone  in  the  annals  of  "reality" 
filmmaking.  Physical  evidence  on  the  film  suggests  that  the  print  you  will  see  tonight  is  the  only  one  made. 

Door  to  Heaven  (c.  1940),  A  CO.  Baptista  Production  for  Scriptures  Visualized  Institute;  16mm,  sound, 
10  minutes 

Religious  films  struggle  with  the  dilemma  of  finding  new  but  inoffensive  ways  of  telling  oft-told  stories.  This 
dilemma  led  to  the  founding  of  the  Scriptures  Visualized  Institute,  and  this  film  shows  how  they  moved 
beyond  the  Word  to  the  Image. 

Ant  City  (1949),  Paul  F.  Moss  for  Almanac  Films;  16mm,  sound,  10  minutes 

A  "John  Kieran  Kaleidoscope."  Ant  City  blends  picture  from  a  German  educational  film  (obtained  after 
World  War  II  at  bargain-basement  prices  from  the  U.S.  Alien  Property  Custodian)  with  commentary  by  the 
eminent  radio  personality  John  Kieran,  host  of  Information,  Please.  Kieran's  gift:  to  have  a  great  time  while 
he's  narrating,  and  make  it  seem  as  if  he's  doing  it  for  the  first  time.  This  hybrid  film  was  made  as  a  low- 
budget  insect  teaching  picture  for  schools  and  television. 

Bill    Garman,    12-Year-Old    Businessman  (1946),  Frith   Films;    16mm,   Kodachrome,  sound,   11 

minutes 

Emily  Benton  Frith  produced  over  80  films,  many  of  which  share  the  charm  of  this  one,  which  is  actually 

about  her  own  nephew  who  lived  in  the  then-rural  San  Fernando  Valley.  During  the  Korean  War,  the  U.S. 

Office  of  Education  designated  this  film  as  one  of  "102  Motion  Pictures  on  Democracy." 

What  Made  Sammy  Speed?  (1957),  Sid  Davis;  16mm,  Kodachrome,  sound,  10  minutes 

No  screening  like  this  would  be  complete  without  work  from  Sid  Davis,  who  has  made  over  100  films 

blending  sensationalism  with  simplicity  of  expression. 

More  Dangerous  Than  Dynamite  (1941),  Panorama  Pictures;  16mm,  sound,  8  minutes 

More  sensational  than  a  creepshow  trailer,  this  film  exposes  the  little-known  dangers  of  a  little-known 

problem:  using  gasoline  as  a  cleaning  fluid. 

Perversion  for  Profit  (1964),  Citizens  for  Decent  Literature:  16mm,  color,  sound,  28  minutes 
Produced  by  Charles  Keating  (yes,  the  same  one)  as  part  of  his  anti-pornography  crusade  of  the  early  Sixties. 
P  for  P  reaches  new  heights  of  prurience  precisely  as  it  seeks  to  increase  decency,  and  sexualizes  familiar 
conspiracy  theories. 

Richard  Prelinger.  founder  and  head  of  Prelinger  Archives  in  New  York,  is  one  of  the  world's  foremost 
collectors  of  ephemeral  (educational,  industrial,  advertising,  amateur)  films.  He  has  put  some  of  the  most 
memorable  films  in  his  collection  on  a  number  of  videotapes  which  are  available  for  sale  by  the  Voyager 
Company  in  Los  Angeles  and  for  rent  at  any  well-stocked  video  store  in  the  Bay  Area. 

Film  descriptions  provided  by  Rick  Prelinger. 


47 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 


NOT  ANYWHERE:  penumbra  #2 
Curated  and  Presented  by  Mark  McElhatten 

June  17,  1993 


the  elements: 


early  assembly,  in  progress  from  The  Five  Bad  Elements  — Mark  Lapore  (shown  in  penumbra  -  Stray 
Dogs  and  the  Arousal  of  Silhouettes  in  different  form,  then  called  Burma  Rolls).    16mm,  b&w  workprint 

audio:  banya  breath  circle  and  schnittke 

Totem  — retrieved  by  Scott  Stark,  family  home  movie  Agfa  16mm  b&w  original 

Prince  and  Broadway  circa  1976  —  Ernie  Gehr  16mm  Kodachrome  work  print 

audio:  for  douji  wolfli 

Whirling  — Leslie  Thornton,  3/4"  video  premiere  of  the  latest  installment  from  Peggy  and  Fred  in  Hell 

audio:  in  ire  (semiconscious  and  semiquaver) 

Untitled  —  unreleased  video  work  by  Ken  Kobland    commissioned  and  unaired  by  French  television — 
excerpt  Photography  Nancy  Campbell.  Audio  mix  Ken  Kobland 

audio:  1900s  splinterneedled  opera  aria  and  1400s  Ciconia  canon  la  ray  au  soleyl 

excerpt  from  The  Great  Invisible  — sample  assembly  from  the  upcoming  feature  by  Leslie  Thornton 

audio:  Scheherazade  -  Patti  Smith  monologue  radio  broadcast  nyc 

Unwrapping 

audio:  1920s  cantor 

Pharaoh 's  Belt  (cake  excerpt)  by  Lewis  Klahr    finished  3/4"  in  video,  satellite  work  from  some  of  the 
materials  from  the  upcoming  film  Pharaoh's  Belt  (camera  rolls  were  viewed  at  the  last  penumbra  screening) 

audio:  Jack  Smith  nyc 

Dracula  -  1931  Universal  dirTod  Browning  cinematographer  Karl  Freund — excerpt 

Dracula  -  1931  Universal  dir  George  Melford  cinematographer  George  Robinson — excerpt 

audio:  Jimi  Hendrix  -  heartbreak,  laughter,  blue  seude  haze 

second  excerpt  from  The  Great  Invisible  — Leslie  Thornton 

partial  assembly  from  work  in  progress  100  Views  of  New   York — Mark  Lapore 

second  excerpt  from  Untitled — Ken  Kobland 


1993  Program  Notes 

Autour  la  Region   Centrale — Michael  Snow    16mm.  color,  sound  print  originally  conceived  as  the  first 

part  of  La  Region  Centrale  1969/1970,  never  screened  in  public. 

Special  thanks  to  Mike  Snow  and  Andrew  Thompson  at  the  Canadian  Consulate  for  their  generous  assistance. 

within  reach: 

City  Film,    by  Lewis  KJahr  Super-8  camera  original 
Larry  Gottheim  8mm  camera  original 

Adynata.  by  Leslie  Thornton,  first  version  22  min..  very  different  from  the 
completed  30  min  film 


The  San  Francisco  Cinematheque  and  The  Seventeenth  San  Francisco 
Lesbian  and  Gay  Film  Festival  present: 

EXPERIMENTAL  SAMPLER 
Curated  by  Michelle  Sophia  Sabol 

June  20,  1993 

Mark  Called  (1993),  by  Billy  Lux;  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  4  minutes 

In  this  gay  S&M  phone  sex  comedy,  the  backdrop  is  the  open  road.    There,  American  masculinity  is 

monolithic  but  primed  for  inversion.  Go  East  young  man. 

Mondays  (1992),  by  Judith  M.  Redding;  3/4"  video,  b&w,  sound,  3  minutes 

Mondays  is  a  video  interpretation  of  Victoria  A.  Brownworth's  poem  "Mondays:  1890,"  about  the  daily  work 
of  a  turn-of-the  century  laundress.  Mondays  was  shot  with  a  Fisher-Price  Pixelvision  camera  and  edited  on 
1/2"  videotape.  It  features  Brownworth  reading  her  work  and  percussion  by  musician  Patti  Little. 

Drag  on  a  Fag  (Canada,  1992),  by  Nickolaos  Stagias  and  Arlene  Sandler;  16mm,  color,  sound,  5  minutes 
Are  they  fags  smoking  cigarettes?  Or  are  they  cross-dressers  smoking  fags?   In  any  event  there  are  lots  of 
70's,  smoking  queens.  Barbies,  and  groovy  lipstick  lesbians. 

Mother's  Hands  (1992),  by  Vejan  Lee  Smith;  3/4"  video,  color,  sound,  10  minutes 
This  experimental  narrative  explores  the  memories  of  an  adult  haunted  by  childhood  sexual  and  physical 
abuse.  Using  music  and  chants  we  experience  a  darker  connection  between  mother  and  daughter.  —  Third 
World  Newsreel 

Black  Body  (1992),  by  Thomas  Allen  Harris;  3/4"  video,  color,  sound,  5  minutes 

Drawing  on  representations  on  the  body  on  Macunde  carvings  of  Tanzania,  East  Africa,  this  video  explores 
the  psychic  and  physical  interaction  within  the  legacy  of  oppression  characterizing  the  experiences  of  the  black 
male.  —  Third  World  Newsreel 

The  Heart  of  Seduction  (1991),  by  Rebecca  A.  Blumen;  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  5:45  minutes 

The  Heart  of  Seduction  is  a  portrait  of  a  surreal  dream  sequence  with  an  ambient  soundtrack.  The  sound  is 

layered  and  there  is  a  recursiveness  between  image  and  sound.   This  isomorphic  correlation  of  sound  and 

imagery  reflects  the  maker's  intent  to  profile  the  process  of  the  unconscious  becoming  conscious  through 

dream  and  fantasy  imagery.    This  film  represents  a  connection  between  body  and  mind  and  shows  the 

process  of  unconscious  images  and  sounds  becoming  conscious  through  its  pace,  rhythm  and  complex 

editing. 

Pubic  Beard  (1991),  by  Anie  Stanley;  1/2"  video,  b&w,  silent,  4  minutes 
A  brief  film  about  displacement. 


49 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Sewing  On  A  Breast  (1991),  by  Anie  Stanley;  1/2"  video,  b&w,  silent.  1.5  minutes 

This  is  an  exploration  of  post-modernist,  feminist  science  fiction.    First,  a  woman  has  her  breast  sewn  on. 

then  a  man.  The  film  originally  was  in  an  installation  on  a  continuous  loop  about  oversized  Catholic  families. 

A  Dance  With  A  Body  (1992),  by  Anie  Stanley;  Super  8mm,  b&w,  silent  2.15  minutes 
Formerly  called  The  Ferris  Of  Them  All,  first  featured  at  the  Spew  Festival  at  the  Kitchen  in  New  York  City. 
The  diptych  montage  serves  as  an  expression  of  female  desire.  In  the  film,  there  is  a  mix  between  metaphors 
and  directness,  where  the  erotic  and  voyeuristic  are  changed  in  the  familiar/personal. 

Put  Your  Lips  Around  Yes  (1992),  by  John  Lindell;  3/4"  video,  b&w,  sound,  4  minutes 
Put  Your  Lips  Around  Yes  is  a  sleek  and  straightforward  barrage  of  words  cut  on  a  house  groove.  Put  Your 
Lips  Around  Yes  extends  visual  artist  John  Lindell's  work  into  television.  This  alphabetical  list  of  chap-book 
titles  (pulp  narratives  used  for  jerking  off)  is  both  what  it  appears  and  something  more:  a  list  of  fantasies,  a 
lexicon  of  identities,  a  comment  on  the  absurd  yet  enticing  reductions  of  pornography.  —  Matias  Viegener, 
Decontrolled  Boundaries,  The  Body  as  Artifact 

The  Death  of  Dottie  Love  (1991),  by  Todd  Verow;  16mm,  b&w,  sound.  7  minutes 
Todd  Verow's  The  Death  of  Dottie  Love  explores  sexual  violence;  against  men  by  men,  against  women  by 
woman,  against  women  by  men,  and  finally  the  violence  against  men  perpetrated  by  a  woman,  Dottie  Love. 
Verow  captures  the  sexual  politics  of  the  small  Maine  town  (Bangor)  where  he  grew  up  and  witnessed 
members  of  his  high  school  class  murder  Charles  Howard  because  of  his  sexual  orientation.  This  film  is  a 
reaction  to  that  murder.  Death  of  Dottie  Love  is  a  stranger,  surrealer-than-fiction  short,  which  has  been 
deemed  politically  incorrect  by  certain  censors. 

My  New  Lover  (excerpted  from  The  Dreaded  Experimental  Comedies  By  John  Topping)  (1992),  by  John 
Topping;  1/2"  video,  color,  sound,  10  minutes 

John  describes  his  film  and  video  pieces  in  his  own  words:  "My  work,  in  a  nutshell,  is  unique  and 
outrageous  comedy  that  is  often  openly  gay.  Within  this  outrageousness,  I  always  try  to  reveal  something  on 
a  deeper  level:  either  some  truth  about  myself,  or  some  observation  of  humanity,  or  perhaps  simply  a  way  of 
looking  at  things  from  an  unusual  perspective.  I  also  have  no  problem  with  things  that  are  funny  for  the  sake 
of  being  funny,  but  there's  almost  always  something  more  profound  involved  if  you  look." 

Hard  to  Swallow  (1991),  by  Tony  Coray  and  Jim  Hankie;  3/4"  video,  b&w,  sound,  6  minutes 
Hard  to  Swallow  is  a  montage  of  evocative  images  and  choreography  that,  set  to  music,  form  an  enigmatic 
yet  haunting  short  film.  Hard  to  Swallow  was  originally  developed  for  the  opening  section  of  a  much  larger 
performance  work.    Choreographed  by  Tony  Coray,  this  dance-theater  piece  (by  the  same  title)  explores 
issues  of  power,  gender,  and  loss  within  a  metaphorical  family. 

Its  inclusion  in  the  1993  San  Francisco  International  Lesbian  and  Gay  Film  Festival  marks  the  first  public 
screening  of  Hard  to  Swallow  independent  from  it's  performance  component. 

Fontvella's  fiox(Germany.  1992),  by  Stefan  Hay n;  16mm,  color,  sound,  17  minutes 
Fontvella  is  facing  hard  times.  Not  only  did  her  last  performance  fail  completely,  moreover  her  wardrobe  is 
ruined  by  a  biker.   Nothing  works  for  her.   Transformed  by  magic  into  a  cow.  she  follows  the  man  of  her 
dreams  and  tumbles  down  while  walking  in  her  sleep. . . 

Beneath  the  Surface  (1993).  by  Jennifer  Johns;  16mm.  color,  sound,  26  minutes 

Through  memory  and  emotion,  movement  and  stillness,  fluid  poetic  image  and  stark  reality,  Beneath  the 

Surface  provides  an  intricate  and  uncommon  vision  of  the  emotions  and  losses  of  breast  cancer. 

"[This  film]  is  my  search  to  find  out  what  it  feels  like  to  have  breast  cancer,  to  fill  the  gap  left  by  the  silence 
that  surrounded  my  mother's  experience."  —  J.J. 

All  descriptions  by  the  artists  unless  otherwise  noted. 


1993  Program  Notes 

The  San  Francisco  Cinematheque  and  The  Seventeenth  San  Francisco 
Lesbian  and  (iay  Film  Festival  present: 

FOUR  BY  IIIROYUKI  OKI 

June  23,  1993 

Colour  Wind  (Iro  Kaxe)  (1991);  Super-8mm,  color,  silent,  10  minules 

Landscape  Catching  (Koukei  Dori)  (1992);  16mm.  color,  silent.  5  minutes 

Melody    For    Buddy    Matsumae    (Matsumae-Kun    No    Senritsu)  (1992);  16mm,  color,  silent,  50 

minutes 

Colour  Eyes  (Irome)  (1992);  16mm,  color,  silent,  8  minutes 

While  a  new  wave  of  queer  cinema  was  coming  together  in  Europe  and  North  America  over  the  past  few 
years,  one  remarkable  independent  filmmaker  has  been  busy  reinventing  the  concept  for  himself  in  Japan. 
This  program  features  five  of  the  most  recent  films  by  Japan's  premier  gay  experimental  filmmaker,  Hiroyuki 
Oki. 

Most  of  his  recent  works  build  on  the  subjectivity  and  homoeroticism  that  are  so  strong  in  his  groundbreaking 
feature  Swimming  Prohibited  (1989).  In  both  Colour  Wind  and  Landscape  Catching,  Oki  continues  to 
develop  his  technical  sophistication  and  his  openness  to  new  forms  and  themes,  culminating  in  a  sensuality 
that  is  apparent  in  his  latest  two  films.  The  last  film  in  Oki's  Matsumae  Trilogy — Melody  For  Buddy 
Matsumae — chronicles  ten  days  spent  in  a  seaside  town:  five  of  them  with  a  visiting  boyfriend,  and  five  more 
after  his  departure. 

Colour  Eyes  is  a  swooning  collage  of  lovers  and  love  objects.  It  is  Oki's  most  recent  work,  and  probably  his 
most  erotic.  Although  these  films  are  silent,  their  moods  represent  a  panorama  of  gay  feelings  and  sentiments, 
which  make  for  a  thrilling  and  wonderful  viewing  experience.  All  the  films  in  this  program  have  been 
provided  courtesy  of  Image  Forum,  Tokyo. 

— Paul  Lee,  Guest  Curator 


"THE  SPACE  BETWEEN:   Displays  and  Displacement" 
A  Collaborative  Installation  with  The  6th  Street  Photography  Workshop 

location:  Market  Street  Facade  of  1  Bush  Street  (Market  @  Sutter/Sansome) 

June  24,  1993 

The  6th  Street  Photography  Workshop  involves  tenants  of  residential  hotels  in  the  Tenderloin  and  other 
individuals  living  below  the  poverty  line  in  creative  photography  projects.  Robert  Farrell,  Andrall  Taylor,  Bud 
Gundelach,  Raymond  Blance,  Willmon  Poole,  Frank  More.  Robert  Session,  Tom  Ferentz,  Barbara  Szegedi 
and  Lissa  Gibbs  collaborate  to  create  tonight's  slide  and  audio  installation  piece  —  bringing  one  section  of  the 
Market  Street  spectrum  to  another  for  one  night. 


51 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

CINEMATOGRAPH  PUBLICATION   PARTY 
Curated  by  Albert  Kilchesty 

September  30,  1993 

All  films/tapes  sound  unless  otherwise  indicated. 

Surprised  (1973),  by  Charles  Wright;  16mm.  color,  4.5  minutes 

An  abstract,  hand-drawn  cartoon  set  to  original  music.  No  shape,  line,  edge  surface  or  background  can  be  taken 

for  granted  for  very  long  before  turning  out  to  be  something  else.  (C.W.,  Canyon  Cinema  Catalogue  No.  7) 

As   You  Lift  Your  Eyelids,   Tracing  Lightly  (1990),  by  Peter  Herwitz;  Super-8mm,  color,  silent,  6 

minutes 

Part  IV  from  the  series  ///  (he  Shape  of  Waking:  Meditations,  which  "represent  a  kind  of  luminous  waking 

from  a  dark  dream  world  of  the  past."  (PH.)  Peter  Herwitz  is  the  founding  editor  of  Sentience  and  the  editor 

of  Cinematograph  Volume  5. 

Christ  Mass  Sex  Dance  (1991),  by  Stan  Brakhage;  16mm,  color,  sound,  5.5  minutes 
Sound:  "Blue  Suede"  by  James  Tenney. 
The  eminence  gris  puts  on  his  dancin'  shoes. 

Dervish  Machine  (1992),  by  Bradley  Eros  and  Jeanne  Liotta;  16mm  blow-up,  b&w/color,  10  minutes 
Hand-developed  meditations  on  being  and  movement,  as  inspired  by  Brion  Gysin's  Dreamachine,  Sufi 
mysticism,  and  early  cinema.  A  knowledge  of  the  fragility  of  existence  mirrors  the  tenuousness  of  the 
material.  The  film  itself  becomes  the  site  to  experience  impermanence,  and  to  revel  in  the  unfixed  image. 
(Eros/Liotta) 

Love  Craft  (1993),  by  Timoleon  Wilkins;  16mm,  color,  silent,  3.25  minutes 

"I'll  switch  to  video  when  they  pry  the  Bolex  from  my  cold,  dead  fingers."  (from  unpublished  draft  of  "A 

Simple  Message  of  Undying  Devotion") 

Mutiny  (1982-83),  by  Abigail  Child;  16mm.  color.  11  minutes 

"I  want  my  work  ...  to  upset  the  torque  of  culture.  /  don't  want  to  give  you  what  you  want.  Out  of  a 
sense  that  I  need  you  awake,  thinking,  not  disconnected,  but  alive  to  potential,  the  optimism  that  this  is 
possible."  (from  "Sound  Talk") 

Tenent  (They  Hold)  (1977),  by  Daniel  Barnett;  16mm,  color,  silent.  6.5  minutes 

"...  I  have  been  using  the  development  of  thought-with-motion-pictures  to  try  to  begin  to  untangle  the  habits 
of  organization  that  we  acquired  as  we  learned  to  speak  with  others;  trying  by  virtue  of  this  other  kind  of 
experiential  parallax:  thought  in  image  only,  parallel  to  thought  marshaled  by  words.  Toward  this  end  I  felt 
incredibly  lucky  to  have  been  born  so  soon  after  cinema,  since  with  it  humans  have  acquired  the  first 
significantly  new  language  making  tool  since  we  learned  to  make  letters,  numbers,  ideograms,  etc.,  and  it 
seemed  to  me  to  be  of  fundamental  importance  to  begin  the  process  of  exploring  and  investigating  this  tabula 
rasa  before  it  was  impossibly  polluted  by  habits  dragged  thoughtlessly  over  from  our  other  addictions."  (from 
"Film  and  the  Social  Font") 

Two  Landscapes:  Coyote  Cow  and  Modernist-Not  ( 1993),  by  Paula  Levine;  3/4"  video,  color,  4 

minutes. 

Two  brief  meditations  on  western  landscape. 

September  Express  (1972),  by  Storm  De  Hirsch;  16mm  blow-up,  color,  silent,  6  minutes 
"Cine-Sonnet.  A  study  of  time  in  motion.  An  accelerated  montage  of  reflections  and  landscapes  framed  in  the 
window  of  an  express  train  running  from  Rome  to  Venice.  Dedicated  to  the  writings  of  J. W.  Dunne,  the 


1993  Program  Notes 

collage  of  Kurt  Schwittcrs  and  the  cubistic  paintings  of  Braque."  (S.D.H. — Filmmakers'  Cooperative 
Catalogue) 

Little  Stabs  at  Happiness  (1959-63),  by  Ken  Jacobs;  16mm.  color,  15  minutes 

"At  one  point  on  the  voiceover  track,  after  a  bit  of  chat  and  play.  Ken  says  that  he  will  now  turn  the  tape 
recorder  off  to  check  out  what  he  has  just  done;  a  moment  of  silence  ensues,  then  he  returns  and  confides  in 
us:  'I  like  it.  It's  kind  of  vague.'  It  is  in  that  gap  of  the  moment,  that  crack  in  time,  that  the  uncanny  sense  of  an 
excitable,  temporal  displacement  ...  begins  to  tremor  and  reverberate  ....  Later,  having  watched  (in 
retroSPECT)  this  footage  of  his  friends  (that  we  are  currently  watching),  Ken  laments  to  us  that  he  'doesn't 
see  them  much  anymore' ...  then  he  mentions  that  Jerry  (Sims)  will  be  coming  over  next  Saturday  to  pick  up 
his  paintbrushes  ....  Of  course,  next  Saturday  didn't  exist  at  that  moment,  as  it  doesn't  exist  now  ..."  (from 
•XCXHXEXRXRXIXEXSX"  by  Phil  Solomon) 

Text  (1992),  by  Jordan  Biren;  3/4"  video,  color,  6.5  minutes 
"Get  out  of  here.  Get  out  of  here.  Get  the  fuck  out  of  here."  (J.B.) 

Pennant  Fever  (1981),  by  Albert  Kilchesty;  Super-8mm,  color,  silent,  2.5  minutes 
A  fall  classic. 

Exit  Music 

"Just  what  was  it  I  felt  so  compelled  to  belong  to?"  (from  "Virginia,  1968"  by  Lissa  Gibbs) 

Notes  credited  to  Abigail  Child,  Daniel  Barnett,  Phil  Solomon,  Timoleon  Wilkins,  and  Lissa  Gibbs  are 
excerpted  from  articles  in  Cinematograph  Volume  5/Sentience.  Thanks  to  all  the  artists  who  made  their  work 
available  at  no  cost  for  this  free  screening. 


BAY  AREA  LIGHTS:  NEW  FILMS  &  VIDEOS 

October  3,  1993 

Acceleration     (1993),  by  Scott  Stark;  Super-8mm,  color,  sound,  10  minutes 
Diluted  figures  undulate  in  this  visual  poem  of  urban  apparitions. 

Receiving  Sally     (1993),  Erin  Sax;  16mm,  b&w.  sound,  6.5  minutes 

"And  the  children  are  afraid  of  the  dark,  and  run  away  from  it,  and  if  some  time  they  have  to  stay  in  it,  they 
press  their  eyes  shut  and  put  their  fingers  in  their  ears.  But  for  them  also  the  time  will  come  when  they  love 
the  dark.  "  (Rilke  from  The  Stories  of  God) 

Aspiratia  (1993),  by  silt;  Super-8mm,  color,  sound,  10-12  minutes 

Excerpt  from  a  work  -  in  -  progress.  "A  sketch  and  preface  to  a  larger  work,  this  film  comes  out  of 

experiences  working  in  an  AIDS  hospice."  (Christian  Farrell) 

Definition:  Aspiration — 1.  act  of  breathing;  breath.  2.  aspiring;  strong  desire.  3.  the  removal  by  suction  of 

fluid  as  from  a  body  cavity.  4.  in  phonetics,  a  pronouncing  with  an  aspirate. 

Built  for  Endurance  (1993),  by  Todd  Verow;  16mm,  color,  sound,  6.5  minutes 

"Against  the  'macho'  facade  of  motorcycles,  bars,  cars,  and  barbecues  Lisa  Guay  narrates  the  goings  on  of  a 
bar  drifter  caught  up  in  the  turmoil  surrounding  a  mysterious,  identity-switching  lush  and  her  charge,  a  violent 
man  who  can't  control  himself  or  his  sexuality."  (TV) 

Dial-A-Kvetch  (1993),  by  George  Kuchar;  3/4  inch  video,  color/b&w,  sound,  15  minutes 
"  What's  your  favorite  Ed  Wood  film?"  (G.K.) 


53 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

City  of  Fear  (1993),  by  Emily  Cronbach;  16mm,  b&w,  sound.  12  minutes 

Plots  and  subplots  are  entangled  within  film  noir  fantasy  as  an  FBI  agent  is  ordered  to  infiltrate  a  biological 
weapons  conspiracy.  The  invasion  of  a  celluloid  villain  adds  to  the  circuitous  narrative  in  Cronbach's 
meditation  on  the  suspense  genre. 

No  Zone  (1993),  by  Greta  Snider;  16mm,  color,  sound,  19  minutes 

No  Zone  uses  geographic  unspecificity  in  its  study  of  contemporary  environments  both  man-made  and 
natural.  Divided  into  five  parts  (Toxin,  Run  Away,  Sickness,  Reprieve,  and  End  of  History)  each  visually 
distinct,  bathed  in  either  monochromatic  haziness  or  vibrant  colors.  And  each  appearing  simultaneously 
familiar  yet  alien.  Snider  is  ushered  through  this  No  Zone  by  a  variety  of  survivalist-tour-guides;  veritable 
pedagogues  of  the  modern  landscape.  Because  of  the  tenuous  nature  of  many  of  their  lives,  Snider  is  careful 
not  to  betray  their  confidences.  This  discretion  inspires  neither  empathy  nor  judgment,  creating  an  atmosphere 
of  pure  objectivity. 

Drive-by  Shoot!  (1993),  by  Portia  Cobb;  video,  color,  sound.  12  minutes 

This  the  third  in  a  three  part  trilogy.  Part  one  being  Destiny  is  Eyleash  C/ose.and  part  two,  Videography  . 
"Abstract  images  are  layered  and  blended  to  comment  on  the  issues  of  survival  and  displacement  and  global 
kinship.  A  compelling  experimental  journey  through  black  urban  communities  in  America  and  West  Africa  is 
underscored  by  written  and  spoken  text  and  music.  "  (PC.) 

Cobb  prowls  the  landscape  armed  only  with  her  camera.  Hunting  targets  both  human  and  material.  Guerrilla- 
like she  imperceptibly  attacks,  capturing  only  the  visual  image.  She  then  stealthily  departs,  moving  back  into 
the  anonymous  cityscape  or  rural  terrain.  Proving  that  her  camera,  like  a  gun,  can  change  the  course  of 
history — not  by  the  taking  of  a  life  mortally,  but  rather  pictorially. 

Notes  prepared  by  Ariel  O'Donnell. 


CUT  OFF  AT  THE  SOURCE:  New  Film  and  Video  from  Los  Angeles 

Presented  by  Eric  Saks 

October  7,  1993 

Cut  Off at  the  Source  frames  Southern  California  by  its  urban  infrastructure  problems.  Los  Angeles  waiting 
for  the  quake  or  a  riot.  In  the  summer  of  '93  arts  money  is  frozen  and  more  injustice  inevitable.  Making  films 
in  Hollywood  and  watering  lawns  with  resources  from  the  North.  Cut  Off  at  the  Source  is  a  few  careful 
considerations  of  "So-Cal"  landscape,  mediascape  and  worn-out  social  values.  — Eric  Saks 

Seven  Lucky  Charms  (1992),  by  Lisa  Mann;  16mm,  color,  sound,  16  minutes 

Seven  Lucky  Charms  is  unique  and  imaginative  in  its  use  of  disjointed  animated  imagery  and  cold  statistical 
facts  to  provide  an  environment  for  understanding  the  emotional  reality  of  battered  women,  especially  those 
who  kill  their  batterers  in  self-defense.  This  experimental  documentary  guides  the  viewer,  step  by  painful  step, 
through  a  scenario  of  violence  and  retaliation,  inadequate  police  response,  and  the  gender  inequities  of  the  legal 
system  and  prison  sentencing.  (L.M.) 

Mead  Lake  (1992),  by  Gary  Kibbins;  16mm,  color,  sound,  28  minutes 

Lake  Mead,  the  Hoover  Dam,  fancy  literary  terms,  and  "foreigners"  are  all  cross-referenced  as  two  academics 

slowly  make  their  way  out  of  town  toward  their  favorite  swimming  hole.  On  the  way,  they  discuss  the 

rhetorical  virtues  of  a  questionable  newspaper  editorial  applauding  the  work  of  the  World  Bank  and  its 

policies  toward  developing  countries. 

A  series  of  intermittent  voice-overs  (all  with  "foreign"  accents)  take  their  own  trajectory,  examining  the 

Hoover  Dam,  swimming,  the  mythical  unconscious,  public  sculptures,  the  Gulf  War,  and  bdelgymas. 


1993  Program  Notes 

The  academics  see  the  world  through  the  screen  of  their  education  and  their  training.  Correspondingly,  their 
observations  vary  widely,  ranging  from  insightful  to  silly.  The  foreigners  behind  the  voice-overs  never 
become  visible,  making  ironic  commentary  which  is  often  detached,  while  at  other  times  seeming  to  be  that  of 
the  academics'  own  unconscious.  (G.K.) 

There  It  Is,  Take  It  by  Martha  Atwell;  16mm.  color,  sound.  28  minutes 

KNBR  (1993),  by  Eric  Saks;  video,  sound,  14  minutes 

KNBR  utilizes  home  movies  from  the  Los  Angeles  area  and  positions  them  in  a  fictional  biography.  A 
historical  view  of  a  neighborhood  comes  to  light  through  the  juxtaposition  of  one  person's  comments  about 
his  career  as  a  municipal  bus  driver  and  as  a  home  movie  enthusiast.  Red-lining  and  interracial  tensions  are 
investigated  in  the  notions  of  neighborhood  space  as  documented  in  the  original  films  themselves  as  well  as 
the  recontextualization  in  the  narrative.  (E.S.) 

Chapbook  of  the  Non-eminent  (1992),  by  Elizabeth  Wiatr;  16mm,  color,  sound,  20  minutes 
Nostalgia,  alienation,  neurology,  truth,  leisure,  the  history  of  ideas,  and  quotidian  stories  are  woven  among  the 
facades  and  surfaces  of  downtown  Los  Angeles.  The  rarely  seen  narrator — a  flaneuse  with  one  foot  in  the 
working  class  and  the  other  in  recondite  theory — is  really  (although  she  won't  admit  it)  searching  for  meaning 
and  authenticity  in  this  easily  romanticized  dystopia.  (E.W.) 

Los  Angeles-based  film/video/multi-media  artist  Eric  Saks  is  best  known  for  his  infamous  Pixelvision  tape, 
Don  from  Lakewood,  and  his  fictional  documentary  Forevermore,  the  Diary  of  a  Leach  Lord.  He  currently 
works  for  the  Voyager  Company  in  Santa  Monica  where  he  oversees  the  production  of  laserdiscs  of  short, 
experimental  works  for  the  home  video  market. 


The  San  Francisco  Cinematheque  and  Frameline  present 

JOE-JOE 
Video  Artists  Leslie  Singer  and  Cecilia  Dougherty  in  Person 

October  9,  1993 

Joe- Joe  (1993);  Pixelvision  on  3/4"  tape;  b&w,  sound,  52  minutes 

Cecilia  Dougherty  and  Leslie  Singer  split  the  character  of  English  playwright  Joe  Orton  into  two  Mission 
District  lesbians,  partners  in  playwriting  and  love.  Joe  and  Joe  prosper  from  their  work  publicly,  but  the 
effects  of  celebrity  hardly  reach  them. 

Do  not  expect  to  witness  the  sharp  dialogue  of  the  real-life  Orton's  plays  or  the  manic  cruising  that  possessed 
him.  Joe-Joe  provide(s)  laconic  comments  on  the  vague  cultural  idioms  so  familiar  to  us,  with  a  manner  more 
self-effacing  than  flamboyant.  They  attract  attention  without  desiring  it,  looking  typically  uncomfortable  in  Santa 
Cruz  with  leather  caps  as  necessary  accessories.  Posing  in  wryly  humorous  scenes  with  just  enough  ability  to 
exploit  the  attention  of  the  camera,  they  exhibit  their  outlandishness  quietly  and  self-consciously.  Daily  events 
occur  which  thev  find  intriguing  or  expressive,  but  not  satisfying.  Ultimately,  no  aspect  of  Joe-Joe's  existence 
enlivens  them  but  their  own  shared  excitement.  Sexual  acts  display  the  intense  correspondence  between  the  two 
women  that  is  hidden  in  other  episodes.  Though  sought  after.  Joe-Joe  is  (arc)  publicly  inscrutable,  but  this 
revealed  private  life  emphasizes  the  individuality  that  exists  beyond  stage  and  screen  assumptions. 

The  screening  will  be  introduced  by  Cecilia  Dougherty  and  Leslie  Singer,  and  will  be  followed  by  readings  of 
passages  from  the  diaries  of  Joe  Orton  and  his  play  Loot  by  Roberto  Friedman,  Cliff  Hengst,  and  Monique 
Nobo. 

Program  notes  by  Chris  Bishop 

55 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

VIOLENCE  AND   DISLOCATION 
Program  I:  Unsettled  Territories 

October  10,  1993 

In  October,  the  Cinematheque  presents  three  programs  that  reveal  and  examine  the  ongoing  tragedy  of  human 
beings  torn  or  alienated  from  their  roots.  As  bloodshed  continues  in  Bosnia,  the  Middle  East,  and  virtually 
every  pan  of  the  globe,  the  histories  of  world  film  and  video  offer  concrete  reminders  of  the  painful 
consequences  of  intolerance  towards  other  peoples  and  cultures 

In  this  evening's  program,  "Unsettled  Territories,"  we  present  three  stylistically  diverse  meditations  on 
political  conflict  and  the  dispossession  of  populations. 

People,  Years,  Life  (1990),  Yervant  Giankian  &  Angela  Ricci  Lucchi;  16mm,  color,  sound.  70  minutes 
"Milan-based  artists  Yervant  Giankian  and  Angela  Ricci  Lucchi  have  been  characterized  as  film 
archaeologists,  seeking  out  cinema's  origins  and  bringing  them  'to  the  light'  in  their  own  exquisite 
assemblages.  Their  newest  project  was  originally  intended  to  be  a  documentary  on  Armenian  history  using 
footage  which  they  planned  to  shoot.  But  upon  realizing  the  power  of  the  existing  images,  they  once  again 
turned  to  scavenging  film  collections  and  archives.  Beginning  in  1987,  they  traveled  to  the  Soviet  republic  of 
Armenia  seeking  traces  of  a  history  that  has  been  characterized  by  deliberate,  brutal  erasures.  They  uncovered 
footage,  some  found  in  the  archives  of  the  Czar,  of  the  massacre  of  Armenians  in  1915,  the  advance  of  the 
Czarist  army  against  the  Turks  in  1916,  and  the  mass  exodus  from  Armenia  following  that  country's 
inclusion  in  the  Soviet  Union  in  1918."  (Kathy  Geritz,  Pacific  Film  Archive) 

"You  understand  that  their  gorgeous,  fragile  images  are  grace  notes  in  a  relentless  danse  macabre."  — J. 
Hoberman  on  Giankian  and  Lucchi's  earlier  film  From  the  Pole  to  the  Equator 

The  distortion  of  archival  footage  through  rephotography,  optical  printing  and  hand-tinting  reflects  the 
discontinuity  of  Armenian  history.  Images  depicting  the  bloody  battles  fought  over  territories  by  the  Turks 
and  Russians,  and  the  desolation  of  the  Armenian  people  moves  between  nightmare  and  languid  dream  as  the 
saga  unfolds  on  the  screen,  awash  with  intense  saturations  of  color.  The  film  is  entirely  without  narration; 
instead  the  voices  of  Pergolesi's  Stabat  Mater  add  to  the  melancholy  atmosphere.  At  times  the  images  seem 
to  drift  away,  allowing  the  eye  to  wander  over  unguided  territory.  The  nowhereness  that  permeates  the  film 
becomes  a  tragic  metaphor  for  the  plight  of  the  Armenian  people. 

Children  of  War  (1946),  U.N.R.R.A.;  16mm.  b&w,  sound,  20  minutes 

Produced  by  the  U.N.R.R.A.  (United  Nations  Relief  and  Rehabilitation  Association)  as  part  of  its  drive  to 
collect  donations  for  war-ravaged  Europe  from  Americans  who  "look  upon  shortage  as  simply  an 
inconvenience."  The  footage  is  surprisingly  graphic  and  exploitative  in  its  depiction  of  children — emphasizing 
the  urgency  with  which  aid  was  required  in  post  WWII  Europe.  Appealing  notions  of  brotherhood  and  peace 
are  accentuated  by  a  melodramatic  voiceover.  proclaiming  these  impoverished  children  "the  pillars  of  the 
brave  new  world."  In  the  end  the  benevolent  viewer  is  asked,  "Can  there  be  rebirth  in  the  ruins?" 

Up  to  the  South  (Talaeen  aJunuub)  (1993)  by  Jayce  Salloum  &  Walid  Ra'ad;  video,  color,  sound,  60 
minutes 

"Lebanon  has  been  used  as  a  metaphor,  as  a  'site'  serving  the  real  and  imaginary  for  various  'visitors' 
throughout  its  history.  It  has  been  a  ground  for  a  history  of  claims,  discursive  texts  and  acts  of  're- 
construction.' It  has  become  an  adjective  for  the  nostalgia  of  our  past  and  the  fears  of  the  future.  We  have 
come  to  understand  so  very  little  in  spite  of  the  massive  amounts  of  'information'  we  have  received  regarding 
Lebanon,  the  war,  and  especially  the  situation  in  the  south  of  the  country  that  for  one  to  even  mention  the 
name  all  sorts  of  images  come  to  our  minds.  What  basis  in  which  realities  do  these  images  have,  where  in 
Lebanon  are  these  realities  situated?  Who  are  we  really  talking  about,  us  or  them,  or  some  other  construction 
in-between. 


1993  Program  Notes 

"Talaeen  aJunuub  focuses  specifically  on  South  Lebanon,  ihc  current  conditions,  the  people  living  there,  the 
histories,  politics  &  economics  of  the  region  and  the  Israeli  occupation  &  the  social,  ideological,  and  popular 
resistance  to  this  relationship  to  the  situation  on  the  ground  and  their  currency  in  the  West;  terrorist/ism, 
occupation,  colonization,  the  post-colonial,  resistance,  collaborator,  truth  and  fiction,  going  into  the  myths  and 
martvrs/sacrificial  acts  and  actors,  while  engaging  in  a  parallel  critique  of  the  'documentary'  genre  and  the 
West's  construction  of  knowledge  about  the  area. 

"In  Lebanon  we  worked  in  collaboration  with  6  local  media  producers,  researchers,  historians  and  journalists 
to  research  and  gather  material  on  the  south  of  Lebanon  ...  Over  150  hours  of  footage  was  shot  on  location, 
between  January  and  December  1992,  and  approximately  30  hours  of  archival  video  and  film  material 
collected. 

"This  tape  is  being  produced  as  the  final  part  of  the  four  part  Countertenor  series  organized  by  Annie 
Goldson  and  Chris  Bratton  in  the  U.S.  dealing  with  the  representation  of  communities+  groups  labeled  as 
'terrorists.'  This  series  takes  as  its  departure  point  how  the  term  'terrorism'  has  been  used  to  obscure  the 
historical  roots  of  political  conflict. 

—  Jayce  Salloum  &  Walid  Ra'ad 

— Notes  Prepared  by  Ariel  O'Donnell 


In  conjunction  with  the  Yerba  Buena  Gardens'  Center  for  the  Arts 
Inaugural  Exhibition,  In  Out  of  the  Cold,  the  San  Francisco  Cinematheque  presents 

VIOLENCE  AND  DISLOCATION 

Program  II:  Displaced  Identities 

Curated  by  David  Cerstein 

October  12-17,  1993 

The  Cinematheque's  current  three-program  series.  Violence  and  Dislocation,  focuses  on  the  ongoing  tragedy 
of  human  beings  torn  or  alienated  from  their  roots  by  physical  and  psychological  violence.  The  five  artists 
featured  on  this  program,  "Displaced  Identities,"  each  confront  their  alienation  from  and  struggles  with  their 
unique  cultural  identities. 

Measures  of  Distance  (1988).  by  Mona  Hatoum:  video,  color,  sound,  15.5  minutes 
Mona  Hatoum  is  a  Palestinian  woman  born  in  Lebanon  who  has  been  living  and  working  primarily  in  Britain 
since  1975.  Her  performance  and  video  work  has  generally  been  concerned  with  the  divisions  between  the 
privileged  West  and  the  Third  World.  In  Measures  of  Distance  she  constructs  a  visual  montage  that  evokes 
feelings  of  separation  and  isolation  from  her  Palestinian  family.  Reading  aloud  from  letters  sent  from  her 
mother  in  Beirut,  and  using  the  Arabic  text  from  those  letters  superimposed  over  still  photographs  as  the 
primary  visual  material,  Hatoum  creates  a  narrative  that  explores  identity  and  sexuality  against  a  backdrop  of 
traumatic  social  rupture,  exile  and  displacement. 

Chronicles  of  a  Lying  Spirit  by    Kelly    Gabron  (1992),  by  Cauleen  Smith;  16mm  film  on  video, 
color,  sound,  5.5  minutes 

For  San  Francisco  artist  Cauleen  Smith,  bonds  with  community  are  primary.  Through  her  work,  she  attempts 
to  make  the  invisible  visible  by  challenging  form,  structure,  and  stereotype.  In  Chronicles  of  a  Lying  Spirit  by 
Kelly  Gabron,  she  artfully  turns  her  rage  into  a  celebration  of  African  pride  and  beauty,  exploring  truth, 
fiction,  and  collective  memory  in  a  spirited  autobiographical  fantasy-as-history  of  Black  slavery  in  America. 


57 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

The  Drama  of  the  Gifted  Child  (1992),  by  Cecilia  Dougherty;  video,  b&w/color,  sound.  6  minutes 
Cecilia  Dougherty  is  a  San  Francisco  artist  whose  videos  address  the  intersection  of  issues  regarding  lesbian 
representation,  video  narrative,  and  popular  culture.  The  Drama  of  the  Gifted  Child  is  about  the  dysfunctional 
relationship  between  the  videomaker  and  her  subject,  and  an  illustration  of  our  need  to  belong,  our  desire  to 
please,  and  the  urge  to  rebel. 

Expulsion  (1989),  by  Julie  Murray:  S-8mm  film  on  video,  color,  sound.  10  minutes 
Julie  Murray  is  an  Irish-born  artist  who  has  been  working  in  San  Francisco  for  the  past  eight  years.  "A 
compilation  of  found  and  live  footage  assembled  in  such  a  way  as  to  present  a  different,  more  ambiguous 
view  of  Ireland  and  its  predominant  religion,  Catholicism,  in  a  fragmented  and  frantic  way,  liberally  peppered 
with  visual  and  aural  references  to  a  main  aspect  of  the  religion — patriarchy.  This  is  coupled  with  a  brief  hint 
at  an  ancient  Irish  space  program  as  a  way  to  rationalize  the  presence  of  so  many  round  towers  that  exist  there. 
The  stereotypical  image  of  the  peasant  is  cut  alongside  images  of  recognizably  American  characters 
emphasizing  the  blurring  of  distinctions  and  confused  identity  that  occurs  when  cultures  are  melded  together 
as  the  cannonball  of  global  internationalism  picks  up  speed."  — Julie  Murray 

The  Ties  That  Bind  (1984).  by  Su  Friedrich;  16mm  film  on  video,  b&w.  sound,  55  minutes 
New  York-based  filmmaker  Su  Friedrich's  The  Ties  That  Bind  is  "an  experimental  documentary  about  my 
mother's  life  in  Nazi  Germany  and  her  eventual  marriage  to  an  American  soldier.  In  the  voiceover,  she 
recounts  her  experiences,  while  the  images  portray  her  current  life  in  Chicago,  the  assembly  of  a  modern 
German  house,  contemporary  peace  marches,  archival  footage  of  Germany,  sensationalist  newspaper 
headlines,  her  first  years  in  America,  and  much  more,  woven  together  to  create  a  dialogue  between  past  and 
present,  mother  and  daughter. 

"Let  me  state  very  simply  that,  in  making  The  Ties  That  Bind,  I  had  no  intention  of  creating  a  general  portrait 
of  all  Germans,  or  of  all  German  women,  nor  did  I  intend  to  explain  the  origins  of  the  war  or  of  Nazism.  The 
film  began  as  a  personal  investigation  of  my  own  mother's  life  before  and  during  the  war,  primarily  from  age 
10  to  28.  I  was  often  tempted  to  extend  the  film  beyond  the  parameters  of  her  own  stories,  but  I  decided 
against  that;  I  wanted  to  stay  close  to  her  text  and  work  within  the  confines  of  a  single  life.  Since  the  war  has 
engendered  such  a  wide  range  of  material,  which  often  takes  such  a  broad,  'objective,'  view  of  the  events,  I 
was  interested  in  taking  a  more  subjective  and  'limited'  approach.  Moreover,  it  would  be  ludicrous  to  presume 
objectivity  when  working  with  material  about  my  mother  (although  I  tried  hard  to  maintain  my  skepticism 
throughout  the  project.)"     — Su  Friedrich 


1993  Program  Notes 


SUPERS  FILMS  AND  PERFORMANCE  BY  JOHN   PORTER 

October  14,  1993 


PORTER'S  CONDENSED  RITUALS 


Santa  Claus  Parade 

1976 

4  minutes 

Landscape 

1977 

I 

Mother  and  Child 

1977 

2 

Exams 

1982 

3 

Amusement  Park 

1978/79 

6 

CAMERA  DANCES 

Firefly 

1980 

3 

Angel  Baby 

1979 

2 

Down  on  Me 

1980/81 

4 

Martha's  Balloon  Ride 

1981/82 

4 

Cinefuge 

1974-81 

4 

Pleading  Art 

1992 

3 

Window  Water 
Bobby  Moving 
The  Secret  of  the 
Lost  Tunnel 

1984 
1992 

3 
3 

Hamilton  Homes 

1985 

9 

Shootout  with  Rebecca 

1983 

2 

Revolving  Restaurant 

1981 

2 

Animal  in  Motion 

1981 

2 

Scanning  #5 

1983 

3 

Silent 


Sound 


w/  performance 


Silent 

John  Porter  is  a  prolific  filmmaker  and  performer  from  Toronto  who  now  works  almost  exclusively  in  Super 
8.  The  lightweight  Super  8  camera  he  uses  has  an  automatic  intervalometer  and  a  shutter  which  can  be  left 
constantly  open.  It  is  the  perfect  instrument  for  experimenting  with  what  he  calls  "two  of  my  oldest  ideas: 
animation/pixilation  ...  and  the  wiping  of  images  with  time  exposures."  Porter  has  produced  two  major  series 
of  films:  Porter's  Condensed  Rituals  which  exploit  the  animating  capacities  of  his  camera,  and  Camera 
Dances  which  take  advantage  of  the  lightness  and  mobility  of  Super  8.  Porter's  films  are  innovative  and  fun,  a 
pleasure  for  young  children  and  seasoned  avant-garde  film  fans. 

For  many  years.  Porter  was  a  contributing  member  of  the  (now  defunct)  Funnel,  the  only  center  combining 
film  production,  exhibition,  and  distribution  in  Canada.  In  addition  to  producing  over  200  films,  he  is  well 
known  throughout  North  America  as  a  tireless  film  activist,  running  film  screenings  and  providing 
encouragement  to  filmmakers  young  and  old.  He  is  currently  one  of  the  guiding  forces  behind  The  Pleasure 
Dome,  a  group  devoted  to  the  presentation  of  experimental  films  in  Toronto.  He  has  previously  worked  as  a 
letter  carrier  for  the  Canada  Post  Corporation,  and  a  bicycle  courier. 

The  Cinematheque  is  indebted  to  the  Canadian  Consulate  General  for  making  this  appearance  by  John  Porter 
possible. 


59 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 


The  San  Francisco  Cinematheque  and  the  Goelhc-Institut  San  Francisco  present 

VIOLENCE  AND  DISLOCATION 
Program  III:  The  Transfigured  Homeland 

October  17,  1993 


Germany,  Year  Zero  (1947),  Roberto  Rossellini;  16mm,  b&w.  sound,  75  minutes 
In  March  of  1947  Roberto  Rossellini  traveled  to  Berlin  in  hopes  of  finding  material  to  complete  "the  third 
panel  of  (his)  war  triptych."  In  Cahiers  du  Cinema  he  spoke  of  his  curiosity  surrounding  the  state  of  post 
WWII  Germany:  "The  Germans  were  human  beings  like  the  rest:  what  could  have  brought  them  to  disaster? 
The  false  morality  which  is  the  very  essence  of  Nazism,  the  abandonment  of  humility  in  favor  of  the  cult  of 
heroism,  the  exaltation  of  force  rather  than  weakness,  pride  against  simplicity."  This  inquiry  became  the 
inspiration  for  his  film  Germany,  Year  Zero. 

The  story  revolves  around  a  thirteen-year-old  boy  by  the  name  of  Edmund.  His  age  is  itself  a  potent 
statement,  for  at  thirteen  he  is  clearly  old  enough  to  have  been  influenced  by  Nazi  propaganda  while  at  the 
same  time  being  too  young  to  fight  for  the  cause.  Edmund  is  a  symbol  both  of  the  aspirations  of  Hitler's 
Germany  as  well  as  the  grim  reality  of  reconstruction  in  post  liberation  Europe.  He  now  lives  in  a  country  set 
adrift,  a  place  where  corruption  and  exploitation  are  the  order  of  the  day.  Due  to  extreme  economic  hardship 
Edmund  is  forced  to  fend  not  only  for  himself  but  also  for  the  survival  of  his  decrepit  family — his  father,  an 
invalid;  his  sister,  unemployed  and  compelled  to  entertain  servicemen  in  exchange  for  cigarettes  which  she 
then  sells  for  food;  and  his  older  brother,  a  once  heroic  soldier  now  reduced  to  shameful  cowering  in  the 
family's  squalid  apartment.  Rossellini  explained.  "Although  the  story  of  Edmund  and  his  family  was  invented 
by  me  it  is  nevertheless  the  common  story  of  all  German  families." 

Filmed  almost  entirely  in  the  rubble-strewn  streets  of  Berlin,  Germany,  Year  Zero  took  only  twenty  days  to 
shoot,  working  at  a  rate  of  one  scene  per  day.  As  the  weather  worsened,  Rossellini  moved  the  production  to 
Rome,  and  finished  filming  the  interior  scenes  in  a  studio.  Unfortunately,  the  final  product  was  seen  as  highly 
subjective  and  was  therefore  received  poorly  by  the  critics,  the  public,  and  especially  Germans,  who  felt  that 
Rossellini  had  created  an  inaccurate  and  alienating  rather  than  compassionate  study  of  the  German  experience. 

As  discouraging  as  the  reception  of  the  film  may  have  been,  it  appears  from  the  following  discussion  by 
Rossellini  that  he  was  in  fact  very  successful  in  accomplishing  what  he  had  set  out  to  create.  "Usually  in  the 
traditional  film  a  scene  is  composed  as  follows:  A  long  shot,  we  see  the  milieu,  the  character,  we  approach  it; 
then  a  medium  shot,  a  three  quarter  view,  a  close-up;  then  the  story  of  the  character  is  told.  I  proceed  in  the 
opposite  way,  a  person  moves,  and  his  movements  make  us  discover  his  surroundings.  I  begin  always  with  a 
close-up;  then  the  movements  of  the  camera  as  it  follows  the  actor  reveals  a  milieu.  The  actor  must  never  be 
left  alone;  he  must  move  in  a  complex  and  comprehensive  way." 

Surprisingly  Germany,  Year  Zero  was  one  of  only  three  early  post-war  films  to  deal  with  Germany  (the  other 
two  were  German  made:  In  Jenen  Tag  by  Helmut  Kautner,  and  Die  Morder  Sind  Unter  Uns  by  Wolfgang 
Staudte).  And  it  is  perhaps  no  accident  that  this  film  was  made  one  year  after  the  death  of  Rossellini's  first 
born  son  Marco  Romano  (to  whom  the  film  is  dedicated).  This  loss  must  have  greatly  affected  Rossellini's 
outlook  upon  his  life  and  his  filmmaking  as  well  as  upon  the  future  of  Europe  and  its  children. 

O  Logischer  Garten  (1988),  Ingo  Kratisch  &  Jutta  Sartory;  16mm,  color,  sound,  85  minutes 

"What  many  see  as  the  German  penchant  for  order,  most  often  and  casually  noted  in  the  activity  of 
the  Third  Reich,  is  not  order  at  all;  it  is  totalitarianism,  fascism,  fear,  and  a  disregard  for  others.  But  order  is  an 
ideal  based  on  logic,  rational  behavior,  judgment,  and  generosity.  It  should  not  be  surrendered  to  these  other 
things.  Our  own  sense  of  what  is  true  is  demeaned  when  there  is  no  resistance  to  these  linguistic 
appropriations. 


1993  Program  Notes 

"When  in  O  Logischer  Garten  wc  sec  the  polishing  of  the  silver  and  images  of  carefully  piled  plates, 
the  cleaning  of  doorways  and  stoops,  the  removal  of  leaves  from  graves,  we  are  reminded  that  all  these  things 
are  part  of  the  effort  to  create  order  from  small  daily  tasks,  order  not  as  a  restrictive  regulation  system,  but  as  a 
source  of  calmness  and  reflection,  and  attempt  to  'somehow'  set  things  right.  The  ordering  of  household 
objects,  their  care  and  maintenance,  suggests  a  modest  model  for  the  re-ordering  of  larger  confusions,  perhaps 
even  of  historical  tragedies. 

"And  it  is  the  invisible  connection  between  the  dining  table  and  the  workbench  that  echoes  the 
unspoken  but  finely  drawn  connections  in  the  films:  between  the  individual,  one's  daily  life,  the  city,  and 
history."  (Dan  Eisenberg) 

Notes  prepared  by  Ariel  O'Donnell 


JACK  SMITH'S  NORMAL  LOVE 
Presented  by  Jerry  Tartaglia 

October  24,  1993 


Normal  Love  (c.  1963);  16mm,  color,  sound,  approx.  65  minutes 

preceded  bv  Vavooma  and  the  Moon  Goddess,  35mm  slides  and  audiotape 

Spend  a  night  in  Lucky  Landlord  Paradise  with  Jack  Smith,  Scarlet  Filmmaker! 

After  the  triumph  of  Flaming  Creatures,  Jack  Smith  brought  his  creatures  outdoors  to  romp  in  an  idyllic 
adventure  photographed  in  glorious  color.  Normal  Love  mixes  pastoral  and  horror  with  dream-like  logic, 
encompassing  contradictions  and  illusion.  A  woman's  skin  glows  an  ill  orange  in  sunlight  while  exuding  a 
speckled  blue  in  the  shade,  the  tone  moving  in  and  out  of  life.  There  is  joy  in  the  costumery,  veils,  sparklers, 
verdant  scenery  and  the  werewolf  slipping  in  the  mud.  The  monsters  featured  are  hostile  but  not  taken  too 
seriously,  a  joke  that  the  characters  are  in  on.  Sexuality  is  flagrantly  on  display  while  never  being  clearly 
defined  or  pornographic.  Its  expressiveness  is  pleasurably  open,  more  innocent  than  exhibitionistic. 
Furthermore,  the  film  features  ridiculous  underminings  of  its  own  conceits,  like  a  few  frames  of  a  calf 
bucking  and  running  as  the  calibrator  mob  is  about  to  enter  the  scene. 

The  playfulness  of  the  filmmaking  is  evident  in  the  technique,  which  indulges  in  the  most  elementary 
manifestations  of  film  illusion.  Flash  frames  litter  the  credits,  and  a  potion  changes  color  as  it  touches  the 
drinkers"  lips. 

Smith  toys  with  the  illusions  of  Hollywood  cinema  (particularly  horror  pictures),  providing  the  stock 
mummv  as  a  dense  patsy  who  interrupts  the  sensualists'  picnic.  The  monsters  have  a  vital  role  in  destroying 
the  veneer  of  glamour  adorning  the  would-be  stars.  The  pinhcad-like  Mongolian  Child  who  guns  down  the 
cake  follies  appears  like  one  of  Tod  Browning's  freaks,  triumphant  over  the  vapid  fritterings  of  the 
"beautiful."  To  light,  though,  when  his  foot  falls  through  the  cake,  he  is  immediately  helped  by  one  of  the 
revelers  he  just  shot  with  his  water  gun.  He  continues  his  declaration  of  victory  with  our  gracious  leave. 

The  film  works  as  glib  satire,  but  also  evinces  strong  threads  of  Smith's  sensibility.  Through  the  fluid 
maneuvering  of  his  actors,  he  constructs  sardonic  groupings  of  culture  conditioning.  Normal  Love  ventures 
violence,  ritual  and  rape  as  threats  in  which  the  victims  play  a  consenting  part  but  emerge  unaffected.  The 
masquerades  of  monster  and  prey,  idol  and  enchantress,  acknowledge  this  frightening  structure  with  the 
purpose,  though,  of  lessening  the  control  this  power  seeks  to  exert  with  mockery,  and  transforming  its  intents 
into  make-believe  and  pleasure.  The  film  is  a  permeable  strip,  its  value  shifting  between  a  conscious  and 
impulsive  sensuality,  and  the  dreamer's  serious  attempts  to  accommodate  what  is  foreign  and  hostile. 


61 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

In  a  Film  Culture  interview.  Smith  offhandedly  claimed  he  had  finished  Normal  Love.  It  seems  an  arbitrary 
statement  considering  the  awkward  continuity  of  the  film  today.  Sections  shot  early  on  like  the  woman  on  the 
swing  and  the  watermelon  capers  are  linked  to  the  concluding  cake  scene  by  an  incantation  superimposed  over 
a  landscape.  The  earlier  scenes  are  more  intimate  and  richer  in  color.  In  these.  Smith  created  a  better  rapport 
with  the  actors  than  in  the  chaotically  swinging  finale.  The  expectation  to  finish  the  film  with  a  defined 
structure  conflicted  with  his  natural  form  of  continuous  expression.  In  film  he  could  retain  improvisation,  but 
the  ability  to  keep  the  timeframe  undefined  was  not  as  accessible  to  him  as  in  live  performance.  Jack's  genius 
as  a  performer  can  be  seen  in  films  by  Andy  Warhol  (The  Life  of  Juanita  Castro),  Ron  Rice  (Chumlum),  and 
four  films  by  Ken  Jacobs  :  Little  Stabs  at  Happiness,  Star  Spangled  to  Death,  Blonde  Cobra,  and  the  Nervous 
System  performance,  Two   Wrenching  Departures,  in  which  Ken  found  the  means  to  linger  over  each 
amazing  inflection  of  Jack's  features. 

Though  he  does  not  appear  himself  in  a  role,  one  is  aware  of  Jack's  sensibility  throughout  the  film.  Normal 
Love  is  an  exultation  of  beings  unconstrained  in  action  and  enlightened  in  outlook.  The  impetus  for  these 
elements  is  Smith's  presence  lurking  just  outside  the  shot,  goading  his  creation  to  evoke  the  meaning  he 
desires. 

Normal  Love  was  never  "completed."  Throughout  the  '60s  and  early  70s.  Smith  showed  the  film  in  a  variety 
of  differently  edited  versions,  selecting  and  playing  various  exotic,  vintage  phonograph  records  as  sound 
accompaniment.  Jerry  Tartaglia's  restoration  is  an  assemblage  of  already  edited  sequences,  with  a  chronology 
based  on  notes  made  by  Jack  Smith  and  Tony  Conrad  in  1963-64  and  a  sound  track  that  mirrors  the  spirit  of 
Smith's  impromptu  performances.  Proceeds  from  screenings  of  Normal  Love  will  benefit  the  preservation  of 
Smith's  other  unfinished  films. 


Jack  Smith  Filmography: 

Scotch  Tape  (1962) 

Flaming  Creatures  (1962-63) 

Normal  Love,  aka  Normal  Fantasy  (1963-64) 

No  President?  (1969) 

Jerry  Tartaglia  is  the  co-founder  of  Berks  Filmmakers,  Inc.,  in  Reading,  PA,  and  the  author  of  the  seminal 
essay,  "The  Gay  Sensibility  in  Avant-Garde  Cinema,"  published  in  Millennium  Film  Journal,  Nos.  4/5  1979. 
His  films  and  videos  (Ecce  Homo,  Vocation,  1969,  among  many  others)  have  been  screened  internationally 
to  wide  acclaim.  He  is  currently  working  to  preserve  and  disseminate  Jack  Smith's  films. 

Notes  written  by  Chris  Bishop. 


MARJORIE  KELLER:  RECENT  WORK 

Marjorie  Keller  in  Person 

October  28,  1993 

Marjorie  Keller  has  been  one  of  America's  most  influential  independent  filmmakers  and  film  activists  for 
nearly  two  decades,  bridging  multiple  worlds  in  her  work  as  artist,  teacher  and  critic/historian.  This  evening 
marks  her  first  appearance  in  the  Bay  area  since  1985. 

Foreign  Parts  (1979);  16mm,  color,  silent,  2.5  minutes 

The  second  in  a  series  of  camera  edited  films.  Foreign  Parts  portrays  the  poetics  of  family  life  in  an  unfamiliar 

context.  (M.K.) 


1993  Program  Notes 

The  Answering  Furrow  (1985);  16mm,  color,  sound,  27  minutes 

Owing  to  Virgil's  Georgics.  With  assistance  from  Hollis  Melton  and  Helene  Kaplan.  Music:  Charles  Ives, 
Sonata  for  Violin  and  Piano  U4  ("Children's  Day  at  the  Camp  Meeting")  and  Ambrosian  Chant  (Cappella 
Musicale  del  Duomo  di  Milano).  Filmed  in  Yorktown  Heights.  New  York;  St.  Remy  en  Provence,  France; 
Mantua.  Rome  and  Brindisi.  Italy;  and  in  Arcadia  and  the  island  of  Kea  in  Greece. 

Georgic  1 

In  which  the  filmmaker  depicts  the  annual  produce 
first  seen  in  spring  —  The  furrowed  earth  ready  for 
planting  —  The  distribution,  support  and  protection 
of  young  plants  —  The  implements  of  the  garden. 

Georgic  II 

In  which  the  life  of  Virgil  is  recapitulated  in  summer, 

with  a  digression  on  the  sacred  —  The  sheep  of  Arcadia  — 

The  handling  of  bees  —  The  pagan  Lion  of  Kea. 

Georgic  III 

In  which  the  filmmaker  presents  the  skill  and  industry 

of  the  old  man  in  autumn  —  Ancient  custom  and  modern 

method  —  The  use  of  implements  of  the  garden. 

Georgic  IV 

In  which  the  compost  is  prepared  at  season's  end  — 

The  filmmaker  completes  The  Answering  Furrow  with 

the  inclusion  of  her  own  image. 

(M.K.) 

Herein  (1991);  16mm,  color,  sound,  50  minutes 

"Dense  and  complicated,  Marjorie  Keller's  Herein  is  optical  archaeology,  a  meditation  on  memory, 
space,  nostalgia,  and  the  Rivington  Street  [sic]  tenement  building  where,  once  upon  a  time,  she  was 
approached  by  an  FBI  agent  to  become  an  informer.  (She  declined.)  The  title,  lifted  from  the  cover  of  her  FBI 
file,  "all  documentation  herein  is  unclassified,"  is  also  a  play  on  Keller's  own  investigation,  where  official 
untruths  meet  unofficial  truths,  and  the  counterhistory  speaks  up.  In  this  fusion  ...  words  trickle  by  on 
electronic  screens,  overlapping  with  images  of  different  interiors,  music,  and  voices,  male  and  female,  talking 
about  life  and  reading  excerpts  from  Emma  Goldman's  diaries. 

"In  spite  of  the  nod  to  this  anarchist  demigod,  Keller's  film  is  radically,  admirably  unsentimental.  As 
anyone  who's  lived  the  down-and-out  knows,  nostalgia  is  always  tricky.  In  one  section,  a  man  recalls  fondly  a 
tenant  who'd  return  to  the  building  in  the  middle  of  the  night  screaming  ('If  you  motherfuckers  don't  like  it, 
too  bad.  this  ain't  Fifth  Avenue'),  only  to  be  refuted  by  an  insistent  female  voiceover.  On  and  off,  Keller  peeks 
into  apartments,  shuffling  images  of  tidy,  well-appointed  Hats  with  those  of  bleak  domestic  confusion.  Her 
camera  moves  in,  panning  intimately  across  split  plaster  walls,  paint-encrusted  pipes,  a  filthy  stove  and  a  gas 
line  left  over  from  the  last  century,  as  if  the  building's  very  nooks  and  crannies  held  clues.  When  history 
demands  its  due.  look  to  the  fissures." 

— Manohla  Dargis,  Village  Voice,  October  26,  1993 

See  also  "Herein  —  excerpts  from  a  letter  by  the  filmmaker  to  Saul  Levine"  by  Marjorie  Keller  in 
Cinematograph  Volume  5  /  Sentience  for  more  information  on  the  making  of  Herein. 

Part  Four:  Green  Hill  (1993);  16mm,  color,  silent,  4  minutes. 


63 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Marjorie  Keller  Filmography: 

Turtle  (1969) 

Backsection  (1970) 

Untitled  (1971) 

S/ie/ta  (1971) 

///'story  of  Art  3939  ( 1972) 

77ieO/rerC/>r:/e(1973) 

Objection  (1974) 

£y  2's  a/u/  3's:  Women  (1976) 

Superimposition  (1)  (1975) 

Film  Notebook:  Part  1  (1975) 

Film  Notebook:  1969-76; 

Part  2,  Some  of  us  in  the  Mechanical  Age  (1977) 

Misconception  (1977) 

77ie  Web  (1977) 

On  the  Verge  of  an  Image  of  Christmas  (1978) 

Ancient  Parts  /Foreign  Parts  (1979) 

Six  Windows  (1979) 

Daughters  of  Chaos  (1980) 

The  Fallen  World  (1983) 

Lyrics  (1983) 

The  Answering  Furrow  (1985) 

Private  Parts  (1988) 

Herein  (1991) 

Part  Four:  Green  Hill  (1993) 


Program  Notes  Prepared  by  Ariel  O'Donnell 


BRAIN  SALAD  BUFFET 
An  Unthinkable  Triple  Feature 

October  31, 1993 


The  Brain  Eaters  (1958),  directed  by  Bruno  Ve  Sola;  b&w,  60  minutes 

The  Brainiac  (El  Baron  del  Terror)  (1961).  directed  by  ChanoUrveta;  b&w,  70  minutes 

The  Brain  from  Planet  Arous  (1958),  directed  by  Nathan  Hertz  (Nathan  Juran);  b&w,  71  minutes 

A  few  brief  comments  about  the  films: 

Bruno  Ve  Sola,  the  director  oi  The  Brain  Eaters,  is  described  by  Jim  Morton  in  Re  I  Search  #10:  Incredibly 
Strange  Films,  as  a  "pug-ugly,  fat  character  actor  who  usually  plays  heavies  because  of  his  menacing,  bad 
looks.  His  list  of  credits  include  some  of  the  best  horror  movies  ever  made — a  Bruno  Ve  Sota  film  festival 
would  be  highly  entertaining.  His  films  include  Daughter  of  Horror.  The  Alligator  People.  The  Undead 
Attack  of  the  Giant  Leeches.  Wasp    Woman.  Night  Tide.  Attack  of  the  Mayan  Mummy.  Creature  of  the 
Walking  Dead  and  Wild  World  of  Batwoman." 


The  Brain  Eaters  is  a  very  loose  adaptation  of  the  Robert  Heinlein  story  "The  Puppet  Masters."  featuring 
invaders  from  inner  space  who  snack  on  the  brains  of  human  hosts.  Like  the  other  films  presented  this 
evening.  The  Brain  Eaters  benefits  enormously  from  moments  of  inspired,  unintentional  surrealism, 
triumphing  over  an  insipid  script  and  a  lack  of  production  money  with  lots  of  creative  ideas. 


1993  Program  Notes 

I  remember  seeing  The  Brainiac  as  a  kid  on  the  Dr.  Shock  TV  show,  a  late-night  creature  feature  program  that 
introduced  a  lot  of  kids  in  Philadelphia  to  the  wonderful  world  of  cheap  monster  movies.  Dr.  Shock's 
handlers  had  apparently  cornered  the  market  on  Abel  Salazar-produced  Mexican  horror  films  (dubbed  for 
north-of-the-border  consumption  by  the  inestimable  K.  Gordon  Murray) — for  the  good  part  of  a  year  those 
were  the  only  films  shown  on  the  program.  I  lost  interest  in  them  after  a  while  because,  to  my  kid's  mind, 
they  just  weren't  scary  enough  and  there  was  too  much  unbelievably  dopey  dialogue.  Many  years  later  I  saw 
The  Brainiac  again  and  couldn't  believe  that  I  had  once  dismissed  it  so  casually.  (Although  I  still  can't  figure 
out  how  his  tongue  marks  appear  on  the  back  of  his  victims'  necks  when  he  attacks  all  of  them  frontally.) 

For  years  The  Brainiac  was  one  of  the  greatest  16mm  film  rental  bargains:  Budget  Films  in  L.A.  rented  it  for 
$25.  then  later,  $35.  A  week  after  booking  the  film  for  this  show.  Budget  called  back,  informing  me  that  they 
had  officially  "retired"  the  film — it  was  too  badly  damaged  and  couldn't,  in  good  conscience,  be  rented  any 
longer.  Quality  control  was  never  a  big  factor  at  Budget  in  the  first  place,  but  to  actually  "retire"  a  print  was  a 
first  for  them  as  far  as  I  know.  Crestfallen.  I  looked  for  other  prints  but  couldn't  find  any,  so  The  Brainiac  is 
projected  as  video  tonight. 

Everybody  is  pretty  familiar  with  the  John  Agar  story  by  now:  the  second  most-decorated  WWII  soldier 
(Audie  Murphy  was  the  top  man)  who  landed  a  part  in  John  Ford's  classic  She  Wore  A  Yellow  Ribbon,  hung 
out  in  Hollywood,  met  and  married  (and  divorced)  Shirley  Temple,  had  a  nasty  drinking  problem,  and  starred 
in  an  incredible  string  of  horror  and  science  fiction  films  during  the  fifties  {Tarantula,  The  Mole  People. 
Attack  of  the  Puppet  People.  Invisible  Invaders,  and  Hand  of  Death,  etc.).  His  greatest  role  by  far  is  that  of 
nuclear  physicist/good-guy  in  The  Brain  from  Planet  Arous.  By  1970  Agar  had  abandoned  acting  and  became 
an  insurance  salesman. 

I  hope  this  program  nestles  squarely  in  your  "fissure  of  Orlando." 

Program  Notes  by  Albert  Kilchesty 


IN  MEMORIAM:  PAUL  SHARITS,  1943-1993 
The  Poetics  of  the  Intellect 

November  7,  1993 

Paul  Sharits  died  at  his  home  in  Buffalo  on  July  8th.  He  was  a  man  of  extremes  and  contradictions,  but  he 
was  consistent  in  his  belief  that  the  artist's  role  is  to  illuminate  the  conditions  of  the  human  spirit.  Through  the 
medium  of  film  he  found  an  ideal  means  of  expression  for  both  his  creative  vision  and  philosophic  insights. 
Influenced  by  Peter  Kubelka's  and  Tony  Conrad's  experiments  with  the  flicker  film,  Sharits  went  on  to  further 
break  down  traditional  filmmaking  structures:  "I  wish  to  abandon  imitation  and  illusion  to  enter  directly  into 
the  high  drama  of  celluloid  (itself)."  His  goal  was  to  challenge  "the  viewers  retina  screen,  optic  nerve  and 
individual  psycho-physical  subjectivities  of  consciousness."  Though  peripherally  involved  in  Fluxus,  Sharits 
enthusiastically  worked  within  that  movement,  producing  Word  Movie  (Fluxfilm  no.  29,  1966)  and 
collaborating  with  founder  George  Maciunas  and  other  Fluxus  artists  on  a  number  of  film  and  non-film 
related  works.  From  1973  to  1992  Sharits  held  a  teaching  position  at  SUNY  in  Buffalo.  Tonight's  tribute 
includes  four  works  spanning  his  career,  ranging  from  color/flicker  to  video  self-portrait,  from  overt  to  covert 
political  message,  and  including  both  single  and  multiple  screen  projection. 

"Certain  incidents  in  a  creative  person's  life  may  not  be  an  observable  pan  of  the  concepts  and/or  forms  that 
that  person  gives  over  to  the  world  but  those  incidents  may  nevertheless  be  cardinal  substructurally;  those 
incidents  may  even  be  interesting,  at  least  to  those  who  care  as  much  for  the  spirit  as  they  do  for  its 
manifestations."—  Paul  Sharits.  excerpt  from  "Postscript  as  Preface."  Film  Culture  No.  65-66 


65 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Piece  MandalalEnd  War{  1966);  16mm,  color,  sound,  5  minutes 

"Sometimes,  in  the  brilliant  light  cast  by  some  trivial  circumstance  and  swept  away  by  the  reverberations  the 
incident  has  provoked,  I  suddenly  see  myself  caught  in  the  trap,  immobilized  in  an  impossible  situation  (site): 
there  are  only  two  ways  out  (either.. .or)  and  they  are  both  barred:  nothing  to  be  said  in  either  direction.  Then 
the  idea  of  suicide  saves  me,  for  1 can  speak  it  (and  do  not  fail  to  do  so)  :  I  am  reborn  and  dye  this  idea  with 
the  colors  of  life,  either  directing  it  aggressively  against  the  loved  object  (a  familiar  blackmail)  or  in  fantasy 
uniting  myself  with  the  loved  object  in  death  ('I  shall  lie  down  in  the  grave,  pressed  close  against  you')." 

— Roland  Barthes,  A  Lover's  Discourse,  Fragments 

S:TREAM:SECTION:S:ECTION:S:S:ECTIONED  (1968-71);  16mm.  color,  sound,  42  minutes 
"it  is  3  a.m.  and  i  am  drinking  sherry  and  'editing'  'unnecessary'  splice  bars/dams  'in'  my  river,  into  a  current 
of  film  of  currents  of  almost  hypnotically  smooth/undulating  lap  dissolves  of  'water'  currents  and  silver-tones 
layers  of  ghost  sirens'  word-streams  come  swirling  into  the  room,  cycling  around  the  corners  of  my  studio, 
sound  volumes  intersecting  themselves  incomprehensibly;  there  are  so  many  words  that,  while  they  each 
seem  clearly  and  adamantly  enunciated  no  one  of  them  is  distinct  to  me.  overlapping  :  insistent  :  seductive  : 
diaphanous  :  female  :  bell  :  chants..."  — Paul  Sharits.  excerpt  from  -UR(i)N(ul)LS:TREAM 
:S:S:ECTION:S:SECTION:S:S:ECTIONED(A)(lysis)  JO:  "1968-70",  Film  Culture   65-66 

Declarative  Mode  (1977);  16mm,  color,  silent,  40minutes,  (dual  projection) 

"This  is  a  non-structural  film,  even  while  it  contains  much  flicker.  One  cannot  predict  the  scene  by  scene 
fabric;  nor  is  there  any  overall  unifying  principle.  The  film  attempts  to  be  like  itself,  full  of  unexpected  twists 
and  turns.  It  is  an  homage  to  Jefferson's  anti-slavery  section  of  his  Declaration  of  Independence  (which  was 
voted  down  by  the  first  congress)  and  it  is  my  declaration  of  independence  from  the  tyranny  of  preconception, 
of  working  form  and  overall  structural  logic." — Paul  Sharits 

Rapture  (1987);  video,  color,  sound,  20  minutes 

Sharits'  Rapture  recalls  the  imagery  of  his  earlier  work  in  Epileptic  Seizure  Comparison  (1976),  as  he 
convulsively  moves  from  postures  of  degradation  to  ones  of  exaltation.  Dressed  only  in  a  white  hospital 
gown  he  resembles  a  figure  from  Greek  tragedy  caught  in  the  grips  of  divine  madness.  Sharits'  movements, 
in  time  to  the  frenetic  musical  score,  are  like  a  Bacchic  mimetic  dance  performed  in  an  archaic  pagan  ritual.  As 
a  counterbalance  to  this  rhythmic  construct  the  screen  is  intermittently  filled  with  solid  colors  underscored  by 
a  monotonic  and  unnerving  Haiku.  Sharits,  in  Rapture,  again  explores  the  value  of  the  abnormal  state  through 
which  higher  levels  of  consciousness  can  be  reached. 

Partial  Filmography: 

Ray  Gun  Virus  (1966) 

Word  Movie/Flux  film  29  (1966) 

Piece  MandalalEnd  War  (1966) 

Razor  Blades  (1965-68)  two  screen  projection 

N:0:T:H:I:N:G  (1968) 

T,0,U,C,H,I,N,G  (1969) 

S:TREAM:SECTION:S:ECTION:S:S:ECTIONED  (1968-71) 

Inferential  Current  (1971) 

Sound  Strip  I  Film  Strip  (1971)  locational  film  piece 

Axiomatic  Granularity  (1973) 

Analytical  Studies  III:  Color  Frame  Passages  (1973-74) 

Synchronoussoundtracks  (1973-74)  locational  film  piece 

Damaged  Film  Loop  (1973-74)  locational  film  piece 

Color  Sound  Frames  (1974) 

Vertical  Contiguity  (1974)  locational  film  piece 

Apparent  Motion  (1975) 

Shutter  Interface  (1975)  locational  film  piece 

Dream  Displacement  (1975-76)  locational  film  piece 

Episodic  Generation  (1976)  single  screen  version 


1993  Program  Notes 


of  4-screen  installation  piece 
Epileptic  Seizure  Comparison  (1976)  single  screen  version  of 

2-screen  installation  piece 
Tails  (1916) 

Episodic  Generation  (1977-78)  4-screcn  projection 
Brancusi's  Sculpture  Ensemble  at  TirguJiu  (1977-84) 
3rd  Degree  (1982)  3-screen  projection 
Bad  Burns  (1982) 
Rapture  (1987)  video 


Program  notes  by  Ariel  O'Donnell 


BROUGHTON   AT  80:  A  CELEBRATION 
James  Broughton  in  person 

November  11,  1993 


Adventures  of  Jimmy  (1950);  16mm,  b&w,  sound,  11  minutes 

A  lonely  innocent  from  the  backwoods  goes  to  the  Big  City  searching  for  an  ideal  mate.  He  is  stalked  by 
ladies  of  the  town,  lodges  in  the  slums,  exhausts  himself  in  a  dance  hall,  tries  prayer  and  poetry  and 
psychoanalysis.  Thanks  to  his  naive  persistence,  his  quest  proves  alarmingly  successful. 

This  parody  of  a  stereotypical  fable  I  made  as  a  spoof  of  my  own  idealism.  I  enacted  the  title  role  to  mock  my 
awkward  pursuit  of  love  objects. 

Testament  (1974);  16mm,  color,  sound,  20  minutes 

In  1972  I  was  invited  to  present  a  speech  at  the  opening  of  the  new  county  library  in  the  town  of  Modesto, 
California.  The  librarian  wanted  an  inaugural  address  by  an  author  who  had  been  born  in  the  town.  I  was  the 
only  candidate  they  could  unearth.  When  I  explained  to  my  class  in  Film  Directing  at  San  Francisco  State 
University  that  I  would  be  unable  to  meet  them  on  the  day  of  the  event,  they  proposed  staging  a 
"homecoming"  parade  for  me  through  the  streets  of  the  town.  From  the  footage  of  that  colorful  occasion,  I 
spun  what  I  thought  would  be  my  final  film:  a  self-portrait  bouncing  me  from  my  babyhood  to  my  imagined 
death.  To  summarize  the  quest  for  erotic  transcendence  that  animated  all  my  cinema  I  mixed  film  clips,  still 
photos  and  staged  scenes.  I  was  assisted  at  the  camera  by  an  ingratiating  redhead  named  H.  Edgar  Jenkins, 
who  had  filmed  the  Modesto  parade  in  slow  motion.  At  the  film's  beginning  I  am  seen  rocking  in  a  chair  by 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  questioning  my  life: 

I  asked  the  Sea  how  deep  things  are. 

O,  said  She,  that  depends  upon 
how  far  you  want  to  go. 

Scattered  Remains  (1988,  with  Joel  Singer);  16mm.  color,  sound,  14  minutes 

In  1988  when  the  San  Francisco  International  Film  Festival  planned  to  honor  me  with  a  tribute  to  my  forty 
years  of  filmmaking,  I  thought  it  apropos  to  prepare  a  new  work  for  the  occasion.  Joel  proposed  making  yet 
another  portrait  of  me,  this  time  his  "Portrait  of  the  Poet  as  James  Broughton."  He  devised  a  dozen 
techniques  to  enliven  my  reading  of  a  dozen  poems.  The  last  of  these  is,  "I  hear  the  happy  sound  of  one  hand 
clapping  /  all  the  way  to  Buddha  land."  In  the  final  image  clowns  first  seen  on  a  beach  at  the  beginning 
reappear  transformed  into  Pan  and  Hermes  dancing  away  toward  the  sea. 

Film  notes  by  James  Broughton  from  Making  Light  of  It  (City  Lights,  1992). 


fi>l 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 


Daystar  Express 


I  am  an  old  youngster  who  gets  up  with  Venus 
I  am  an  old  childhood  of  the  dawn 

I  worship  the  morning  star 
I  ride  the  morning  star 
I  arise  early  to  run  after  my  downfall 

I  am  an  old  boy  glowing  as  the  light  fades 
I  have  a  new  childhood  ready  for  the  dusk 

I  dropkick  the  sunrise 

I  polevault  to  sundown 
I  perish  nightly  on  my  nonstop  dayshift 

There  is  no  doubt  about  it 

a  cloud  is  in  the  sky 
What  happens  is  what  happens 

and  I  happen  to  be  I 

There  is  no  doubt  about  it 

the  rain  is  on  the  sea 
What's  happening  is  happening 

and  it's  happening  to  me 

What  comes  in  will 
eventually  go  out 
and  what  goes  out 
comes  in  again 

My  in  goes  out 
my  out  goes  in 
Both  in  and  out 

are  me 
My  in's  as  big  as 
all  outdoors 
and  all's  as  small 

as  me 

— James  Brought  on 


THE  SURVIVAL  OF  IMAGES 
A  Slide  Installation  by  Gavin  Flint 

November  14,  1993 

Images  from  films  can  become  our  memories,  often  more  powerful  than  memories  of  actual  events.  The 
Sun'ival  of  Images  is  a  recreation  of  cinema  as  a  metaphor  for  the  mind.  In  this  installation,  well-known 
narrative  films  are  described  by  texts  that  are  presented  visually  on  slides  in  the  hope  that  the  viewer  may 
recollect  images  from  those  films.  The  viewer  is  thereby  invited  to  question  her  relationship  to  the  image- 
making  process  and  to  become  an  active  participant  in  the  cinematic  event. — Gavin  Flint. 


1993  Program  Notes 

"Whenever  we  are  trying  to  recover  a  recollection,  to  call  up  some  period  of  our  history,  we  become 
conscious  of  an  act  si/;  generis  by  which  we  detach  ourselves  from  the  present  in  order  to  replace  ourselves, 
first,  in  the  past  in  general,  then,  in  a  certain  region  of  the  past — a  work  of  adjustment,  something  like  a 
focusing  camera..." 

— Henri  Bergson,  Matter  and  Memory 

"Those  who  are  so  absorbed  in  the  world  of  the  movie  by  its  images,  gestures,  and  world,  that  they  are  unable 
to  supply  what  really  makes  it  a  world,  do  not  have  to  dwell  on  particular  points  of  its  mechanics  during  a 
screening."  — Max  Horkheimer  and  Theodor  Adorno,  "The  Culture  Industry:  Enlightenment  as  Mass 
Deception",  in  Dialectic  of  Enlightenment 

"In  his  Gran  Teatro  delle  Scienze,  Guilio  Camillo  (ca.  1475-1544)  hoped  to  construct  a  model  theater  that 
reversed  the  relationship  of  spectator  to  audience.  Originally,  Camillo  had  thought  to  use  the  metaphor  of  the 
human  body  as  a  microcosm  of  the  universe  in  order  to  illustrate  his  memory  system,  but  later  he  chose 
instead  the  ancient  metaphor  of  the  world  as  a  great  theater."  — Judith  Barry,  "Casual  Imagination"  in  Blasted 
Allegories 

"Mistakes  in  Regard  to  Content  of  the  Story: 

•  Lack  of  recognizable  content. 

•  No  relation  to  the  audience's  interests  at  a  certain  time. 

•  Cost  in  no  proportion  to  appeal." 

— Eugene  Vale,  The  Technique  of  Screen  and  Television  Writing 

"Matter  and  Memory  was  the  diagnosis  of  a  crisis  in  psychology.  Movement,  as  physical  reality  in  the 
external  world,  and  the  image,  as  psychic  reality  in  consciousness,  could  no  longer  be  opposed.  The 
Bergsonian  discovery  of  a  movement-image,  and  more  profoundly,  of  a  time-image,  still  retains  such  a 
richness  today  that  it  is  not  certain  that  all  its  consequences  have  been  drawn."  — Gilles  Deleuze  on  Matter  and 
Memory         * 

"Pure  perception,  in  fact,  however  rapid  we  suppose  it  to  be,  occupies  a  certain  depth  of  duration,  so  that  our 
successive  perceptions  are  never  the  real  moments  of  things,  as  we  have  hitherto  supposed,  but  are  moments 
of  our  consciousness."  "The  true  effect  of  repetition  is  to  decompose  and  then  recompose,  and  thus  appeal  to 
the  intelligence  of  the  body." 

— Henri  Bergson,  "Of  the  Selection  of  Images",  in  Matter  and  Memory 

"A  good  concept  for  a  screenplay  can  be  described  in  three  words." 
— Kotaro  Shimogori  describing  a  Hollywood  producer 

"It  is  not  a  matter  of  boring  the  public  to  death  with  transcendent  cosmic  preoccupations.  That  there  may  be 
profound  keys  to  thought  and  action  with  which  to  interpret  the  whole  spectacle,  does  not  in  general  concern 
the  spectator,  who  is  simply  not  interested." 

— Antonin  Artaud,  The  Theatre  and  Its  Double 

"In  contemporary  society  and  culture...the  question  of  the  legitimation  of  knowledge  is  formulated  in  different 
terms.  The  grand  narrative  has  lost  its  credibility,  regardless  of  what  mode  of  unification  it  uses,  regardless  of 
whether  it  is  speculative  narrative  or  a  narrative  of  emancipation." 

— Jean-Francoise  Lyotard,  The  Postmodern  Condition:  A  Report  on  Knowledge 

"Jacques  must  have  said  a  hundred  times  that  it  was  written  up  above  that  he  would  not  finish  the  story  and  I 
can  see,  Reader,  that  Jacques  was  right.  I  can  see  that  this  annoys  you.  Well  then,  carry  on  his  story  where  he 
left  off  and  finish  it  however  you  like." 

— Denis  Diderot,  Jacques  the  Fatalist 

"For  thirty-five  cents  each  we  went  into  the  beat-up  old  movie-house  and  sat  in  the  balcony  till  morning, 
when  we  were  shooed  downstairs.  The  people  who  were  in  that  all-night  movie-house  were  the  end... 


69 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Number  two  feature  film  was  George  Rait,  Sidney  Greenstreet.  and  Peter  Lorre  in  a  picture  about  Istanbul. 
We  saw  both  of  these  things  six  times  each  during  the  night.  We  saw  them  waking,  we  heard  them  sleeping, 
we  sensed  them  dreaming,  we  were  permeated  completely  with. ..this  weird  dark  Myth  of  the  East  when 
morning  came.  All  my  actions  since  have  been  dictated  automatically  to  my  subconscious  by  this  horrible 
osmotic  experience."  — Jack  Kerouac,  On  the  Road 

San  Francisco  resident  Gavin  Hint  is  a  multimedia  artist  who  makes  videos,  installations,  and  books.  A 
continuing  theme  in  his  work  is  language  and  the  way  it  influences  the  systems  that  control  our  lives.  Flint  has 
most  recently  exhibited  videotapes  and  installations  at  Artists  Space  in  New  York  and  the  Randolph  Street 
Gallery  in  Chicago,  and  will  open  The  Doris  Day  Story  at  the  San  Francisco  Arts  Commission  Gallery  in 
January.  His  book,  Vincent's  Coloring  Book,  is  being  distributed  by  Printed  Matter  Bookstore  in  New  York. 


AL  HERNANDEZ  /  CLAIRE  BAIN 
Filmmakers  in  person 

November  18,  1993 

Films  by  Al  Hernandez 

"My  films  are  a  tool  in  the  process  of  self-discovery  and  growth.  A  process  where  imagination  and 
experimentation  are  gold."  —  Al  Hernandez 

Jump  Fence  (in-progress);  S-8mm  on  videotape,  sound,  24  minutes 

"Child  abuse,  hip  hop,  virtual  reality  and  organic  spirituality  are  some  of  the  themes  that  come  together  in  this 

surreal  film  of  a  suburban  youth's  journey  to  rebirth."  (A.H.) 

Untitled  work  in-progress\  16mm,  color,  sound,  4  minutes 

Films  by  Claire  Bain 

Petroglyph  Park  (1993);  Super-8mm,  b&w/color,  sound,  12  minutes 

Petroglyph  Park  is  about  a  visit  home  to  Albuquerque,  New  Mexico,  last  Christmas.  We  are  led  through  the 
landscape  by  my  nephew,  Marcus,  and  my  sister,  Anna.  The  film  shows  relationships  of  camera,  subject, 
family,  history,  and  culture.  Marcus  narrates  about  pre-Spanish  invasion  picture  writings  in  the  rock,  and 
shows  us  modern  Christianity  at  its  glitzy  extreme  in  the  form  of  Christmas  decorations  on  my  neighborhood 
houses.  (C.B.) 

Vel  and  the  Bus  (1993);  Super-8mm.  color,  sound,  20  minutes 

Starring  Vel  Richards,  Yolanda  Bain,  Al  Hernandez,  David  Garden,  Tomas  Santi,  Ken  Rosenthal,  and  others. 

Vel  and  the  Bus  is  the  heart-rending  tale  of  Vel  Richards'  brave  recovery  from  a  harrowing  accident.  We  join 
Vel  on  her  subsequent  journey  along  the  path  of  recovery  and  self-discovery  which  leads  into  the  full  bloom 
of  mid-life.  This  film  is  the  fourth  in  a  series  of  Vel  movies.  (C.B.) 

Originally  from  Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico,  Claire  Bain  began  making  films  in  1985  and  received  a  BFA  from 
the  San  Francisco  Art  Institute  in  1989. 

Vel  Richards  was  born  in  Hobbs,  New  Mexico  in  1949.  She  recently  quit  her  job  as  a  typist  and  is  planning  to 
open  a  laundry.  She  met  Claire  Bain  at  the  lunch  counter  at  the  original  Woolworths  at  Powell  and  Market 
Streets  in  1989.  Their  fruitful  collaboration  has  yielded  four  films  thus  far. 


1993  Program  Notes 

IMAGINING   INDIANS  BY  VICTOR  MASAYESVA,  JR 
Presented  by  Michelle  Valladures 

November  21,  1993 

Hopi  videomaker  Victor  Masayesva,  Jr.  is  one  of  the  first  Native  American  media  artists  to  emerge  with  his 
own  authentic  voice  while  steadfastly  addressing  his  traditional  culture.  His  works  have  won  awards  including 
a  Gold  Hugo  at  the  1984  Chicago  International  Film  Festival,  and  have  been  broadcast  in  the  U.S.  and  on 
German  and  Spanish  Television.  Tonight  Masayesva's  associate,  Michelle  Valladares,  will  present  his  most 
personal  work,  ham  Hakim,  Hopiit,  a  visually  vibrant,  lyrical  portrait  of  Hopi  life  and  sensibility;  and 
Imagining  Indians,  produced  by  ITVS  for  national  broadcast,  which  critiques  Hollywood's  continuing 
absorption  of  American  Indian  culture  as  grist  for  its  glamour  mill. 

Itam  Hakim,  Hopiit  (1985);  video,  color,  sound.  58  minutes 

ham  Hakim,  Hopiit  translates  directly  as  'we,  someone,  the  Hopi  People.'  As  used  by  the  narrator, 
Ross  Macaya,  the  phrase  indirectly  reflects  our  ancient  heritage  here  on  the  North  American  Continent:  we 
came  here  as  unknown  bands  to  fulfill  our  destiny  of  a  united  Hopi  Nation.  It  is  the  process  of  becoming,  this 
journey  to  the  heart  of  the  North  American  Continent  that  is  Macaya's  story. 

Ross  Macaya  was  born  in  the  last  decade  of  the  1800's,  and  is  the  oldest  member  of  a  storytelling 
clan:  the  Tobacco.  Fluent  in  English,  Spanish.  Navajo,  Santo  Domingo,  Zuni,  and  Tewa,  Macaya's  tale  is  told 
in  archaic  Hopi.  Having  widely  traveled  during  the  course  of  his  years  as  a  freighter  and  trader,  he 
immediately  appreciated  the  television  medium  and  its  potential  for  communicating  and  for  storytelling.  Fully 
conscious  of  the  technology  after  a  few  sessions,  he  later  provided  us  with  invaluable  insights  into  the  editing 
process  and  the  art  of  story  telling. 

Clan  stories  are  jealously  protected,  often  crucial  to  the  performance  of  closed  ceremonies.  In  this 
instance,  Macava  was  telling  the  clan  story  of  his  fathers,  practically  extinct  because  of  taboos  and  restrictions 
placed  against  the  Bow  Clan,  often  by  their  own  members.  Refusing  alliances  and  binding  ties  with  other 
clans,  the  Bow  Clan  numbers  two  male  members  today. 

— Victor  Masayesva  Jr. 

In  renting  or  purchasing  ham  Hakim,  Hopiit,  Hopi  producer  Victor  Masayesva,  Jr.'s  poetic 
visualization  of  Hopi  philosophy  and  prophecy,  programmers  are  given  a  choice  between  a  subtitled  version 
(with  the  words  of  Macaya,  aged  storyteller,  translated  into  English)  and  one  that  eschews  translation. 
Reflection  upon  the  relative  merits  of  each  format  and  one's  own  preferences  (and  indeed  the  tape  deserves 
more  than  one  single  viewing)  is  likely  to  tell  more  about  oneself  than  the  video  work  in  question,  and  in  so 
doing  rightly  shifts  the  focus  of  attention  from  an  'exotic'  text  to  its  impact  on  a  non-Hopi  audience. 

The  tape  offers  a  cultural  bridge  of  a  very  different  kind,  evoking  a  culture  and  an  environment 
through  the  look  and  sound  of  it  and  the  fluidly  majestic  pace  of  its  unfolding.  The  untitled  version  is  more 
likely  to  impart  the  drama  of  distant  rainstorms  across  desert  landscapes  or  cause  one  to  gasp  in  astonishment 
at  the  rainbow  that  enters  the  frame  during  a  revelatory  pan.  For  indeed  the  lyricism  of  Masayesva's  imagery 
and  the  tone  of  reverence  for  the  earth,  whose  caretaker's  the  Hopi  consider  themselves  to  be,  has  the  power  to 
transport  the  viewer,  substituting  our  Western  predilection  to  map  cosmology  and  culture  onto  constructed 
paradigms — that  is,  to  interpret — for  knowledge  of  another,  less  aggressive  kind  arrived  at  through  revelation. 
It  is  the  achievement  of  Masayesva's  work  that  even  the  most  committed  to  interpretation  among  us  stand  to 
be  converted,  if  only  for  a  moment,  and  taught  the  quiet  virtues  of  observation. 

— Michael  Renov.  Anthropos  '87  -  Meyerhoff  Film  Festival 

Imagining  Indians  (1992);  16mm,  color,  sound.  80  minutes 

For  years.  Native  American  objects,  images  and  rituals  have  been  claimed  for  purposes  having  little 
or  nothing  to  do  with  their  original  context.  From  comic  book  panels  and  wooden  Indians  to  sports  mascots 
and  Kachina  dolls,  the  appropriation  of  Native  America  is  now  spurring  some  Native  Americans  to  say  'no' 
to  the  buying  and  selling  of  their  cultural  heritage.  Says  Hopi  filmmaker  Victor  Masayesva.  Jr..  'Native 


71 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Americans  arc  asked  to  sell  the  sacred  aspects  of  their  existence  as  art,  politics  or  a  spiritual  agenda,  and  tribal 
communities  are  questioning  what  is  being  compromised,  destroyed,  lost  and  sold.' 

Imagining  Indians  looks  at  the  problems  that  ensue  when  Native  myths  and  rituals  become  a 
commodity.  The  video  addresses  these  issues  though  an  examination  of  such  commercially  successful  films 
as  Dances  With  Wolves,  A  Man  Called  Horse,  Thunderheart,  and  Darkwind.  Says  Masayesva,  "Coming 
from  a  Hopi  village  which  became  embroiled  in  the  filming  of  Darkwind,  I  fell  a  keen  responsibility  as  a 
community  member,  not  only  as  an  individual,  to  address  these  impositions  on  our  tribal  lives." 

He  adds,  "I  have  come  to  believe  that  the  sacred  aspects  of  our  existence  that  encourage  the  continuity 
and  vitality  of  Native  peoples  are  being  manipulated  by  an  aesthetic  in  which  money  is  the  most  important 
qualification.  This  contradicts  values  intrinsic  to  what  is  sacred  and  may  destroy  our  substance.  I  am 
concerned  about  a  tribal  and  community  future  which  is  reflected  in  my  film  and  I  hope  this  challenges  the 
viewer  to  overcome  glamorized  Hollywood  views  of  the  Native  American,  which  obscure  the  difficult 
demands  of  walking  the  spiritual  road  of  our  ancestors." 

— independent  Television  Service 


EXULTATIONS:  IN  LIGHT  OF  THE  GREAT  GIVING 
Bruce  Elder  in  Person 

December  2,  1993 

Exultations:  In  Light  of  the  Great  Giving  (1992);  16mm,  color,  sound,  100  minutes 
Co-maker:  Alexa-Frances  Shaw 

The  Apostle  Paul  tells  us  that  there  is  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  neither  bond  nor  free,  neither  male  nor  female. 
And  so  this  film  moves  towards  the  vision  of  time  when  Heaven  descends  to  earth  and  makes  all  earth  one 
with  Heaven;  when  the  two  become  as  one;  when  the  outside  becomes  as  the  inside,  and  the  inside  as  the 
outside;  the  above  as  below  and  the  below  as  the  above;  when  the  male  and  the  female  become  one  and  the 
same,  neither  the  male  as  a  male,  nor  the  female  as  a  female:  when  form  and  energy,  love  and  beauty,  desire 
and  response,  become  identical;  when  the  end  returns  to  the  beginning  and  the  beginning  finds  its  completion 
in  the  end;  when  the  new  creation  joins  with  the  revelation. 

Inspired  by  meditation  on  two  of  John  Donne's  greatest  poems,  "The  Extasie": 

Where,  like  a  pillow  on  a  bed, 

A  Pregnant  banke  swel'd  up,  to  rest 
The  violets  reclining  head, 

at  we  two,  one  anothers  best. 
Our  hands  were  firmly  cimented 

With  a  fast  balme,  and  thence  did  spring. 
Our  eye-beames  twisted,  and  did  thred 

Our  eyes,  upon  one  double  string: 
So  to'entergraft  our  hands,  as  yet 
Was  all  the  meanes  to  make  us  one, 
And  pictures  in  our  eyes  to  get 

Was  all  our  propagation. 
As  twixt  two  equal  Armies,  Fate 

Suspends  uncertain  victorie. 
Our  soules,  (which  to  advance  their  state. 

Were  gone  out,)  hung  twixt  her,  and  mee. 


1993  Program  Notes 


and  "The  Canonization" 


Call  us  what  you  will,  wee  are  made  such  by  love; 

Call  here  one,  mee  another  flye, 
We'are  Tapers  too,  and  at  our  owne  cost  die. 

And  wee  in  us  fine  the'Eagle  and  Dove. 

The  Phoenix  ridlc  hath  more  wit 

By  us,  we  two  being  one  are  it. 
So  to  one  neutral  thing  both  sexes  fit. 

Wee  dye  and  rise  the  same,  and  prove 

Mysterious  by  this  love. 

Finally,  the  phrase  "The  great  giving"  is  taken  from  Rainer  Maria  Rilke,  and  used  partly  according  to  the 
sense  he  gave  it.  For,  at  the  end  of  Consolations:  Love  is  an  Art  of  Time  I,  loo,  seemed  to  have  lost  the  power 
to  continue.  Then  there  was  a  great  giving,  a  moment  when  the  films  that  conclude  The  Book  of  All  the 
Dead  [Elder's  epic  multi-film  cycle  that  he  has  been  working  on  since  the  late  seventies]  were  given  to  me  all 
at  once.  After  that,  there  was  only  four  years  of  shooting,  editing,  and  most  time  consuming  of  all,  computer 
programming  till  they  were  done.  The  great  giving  is  also  the  Creation  and  the  Revelation,  and  the  Sacrifice. 

— Bruce  Elder 

The  Book  of  All  the  Dead  (approximately  40  hours)  is  comprised  of  three  sections:  The  System  of 
Dante's  Hell,  Consolations  (Love  is  an  Art  of  Time),  and  Exultations  (In  Light  of  the  Great  Giving).  The  cycle 
concerns  recovering  what  has  been  lost  in  the  modern  era,  a  sense  of  subjectivity  and  personal  as  well  as 
cultural  values,  an  awe  before  God  and  Nature.  As  Elder  has  stated,  "The  cycle  begins  with  the  emergence  of 
Nature  out  of  nothing  and  ends  with  the  New  Beginning.  Moreover,  the  interweaving  of  themes  in  The 
Book  of  All  the  Dead  constitutes  a  gigantic  metaphor  for  the  development  and  conflicts  within  an 
individual  whose  development  in  turn  stands  for  the  historical  process  itself.  On  a  more  psychological  level, 
its  main  theme  is  love  and  the  irreconcilability  of  love  with  domination.  Along  with  this  there  is  a  social  or 
political  level  of  import  which  deals  with  the  attempt  to  rescue  a  corrupt  world  presided  over  by  degenerate 
idols.. .The  protagonist  of  the  cycle  is  Time. 

"Two  more  sections  of  The  Book  of  All  the  Dead  will  be  released  in  1993 — Burying  the  Dead 
(Into  the  Light)  and  Et  Resurrectus  Est.  In  December  1992,  1  decided,  with  sections  of  running  time  left  to 
create,  not  to  finish  the  project.  This  seems  a  fitting  tribute  to  the  broken  dreams  that  the  epic  imagination  of 
the  twentieth-century  left  as  its  legacy." 

The  third  part  of  the  cycle.  Exultations  (In  Light  of  the  Great  Giving),  includes  the  films  "Flesh  Angels" 
(1990),  "Newton  and  Me"  (1990),  "Azure  Serene:  Mountains,  Rivers.  Sea  and  Sky"  (1992),  and 
"Exultations:  In  Light  of  the  Great  Giving"  (1992). 

Bruce  Elder  lives  in  Toronto,  Canada.  His  works  have  been  shown  widely  in  North  America  and  Europe,  and 
he  has  had  retrospectives  at  the  Cinematheque  Quebecoise,  the  Art  Gallery  of  Ontario,  and  Anthology  Film 
Archives.  He  has  also  written  two  books  and  many  articles  on  film,  music  and  poetry. 


HOLDING  GROUND: 
Films  by  Diane  Kitchen,  Lynne  Merrick,  and  Gunvor  Nelson 

December  5,  1993 

In  this  evening's  program  both  geographical  placement  and  spiritual  motivations  are  examined  as  three 
filmmaker  create  portraits  of  cultures  familiar  and  remote.  The  artistic  differences  and  the  range  of  subject 
matter  inspire  unusual  insights  into  the  state  of  the  modern  world. 


73 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Roots,   Thorns  (1993),  by  Diane  Kitchen;  16mm,  color,  sound.  23  minutes 

"She  thought  of  her  children  and  she  sang.  He  tried  to  translate  but  couldn't.  He  said,  'A  man  doesn't 

understand  her  meaning.'  " 

The  discontinuity  in  both  dialogue  and  imagery  in  Roots,  Thorns  retlects  the  fragmentation  of  the  Peruvian 
Ashaninka  Indians  as  they  precariously  move  into  the  next  millennium.  The  Ashaninka  are  people  that  "exist 
between  the  sun  and  earth"  or,  more  precisely,  between  nature  and  civilization.  In  Roots,  Thorns  Diane 
Kitchen  provides  the  viewer  with  a  glimpse  into  this  tribe's  daily  activities.  Ackbar  Abbas,  writing  on 
Kitchen's  earlier  film  on  the  Ashaninka,  Before  We  Knew  Nothing,  said:  "A  filmmaker  like  Ms.  Kitchen 
uses  the  camera  to  present  and  introduce  images;  moreover,  images  which  have  their  own  order  of 
understanding  and  which  she  does  not  presume  to  have  completely  understood.  In  her  film  the  presence  of  the 
camera  is  neither  hidden  nor  flaunted;  rather  the  camera  is  placed  in  such  a  way  that  its  field  of  vision  does  not 
become  hegemonic." 

The  Ashaninka  wear  westernized  clothing  and  listen  to  recorded  music  while  simultaneously  carrying  on  the 
traditions  of  the  ancient  past.  Their  lush  jungle  location  offers  isolation  but  not  freedom  from  the  intrusion  of 
the  "white  man"  whose  existence  seems  elusive  yet  omnipresent.  Of  these  outsiders  the  Ashaninka  say, 
"They  do  impressive  things  but  are  dangerous." 

How  much  longer  the  Indians  can  remain  is  uncertain,  but  as  the  story  goes:  "They  say  there  was  a  strong 
vine  and  it  fastened  around  him  and  said —  Live  here!  Live  here!" 

"So  it  was." 

A  Stack  of  Black  Cats  (1989),  by  Lynne  Merrick;  16mm,  color,  sound,  40  minutes 
Under  a  limitless  winter  sky,  its  clarity  suggesting  a  bitter  coldness,  Lima  goes  about  her  chores  as  she  has  for 
a  lifetime.  She  is  the  feminine  embodiment  of  the  western  spirit,  a  woman  who  steadfastly  held  her  family 
together,  battling  poverty,  the  elements,  and  death — the  provider  of  food  and  the  giver  of  life.  Lima's  refusal  to 
abandon  her  family  home  high  in  the  rugged  Montana  wilderness  is  indicative  of  her  unwillingness  to 
acquiesce  to  old  age  and  death.  Her  existence,  however  comparatively  insignificant,  convinces  one  that  the 
forces  of  nature  would  be  left  ever  so  slightly  out  of  balance  without  her. 

Old  Digs  (1992),  by  Gunvor  Nelson;  16mm.  color,  sound,  20  minutes 
Sound  by  Patrick  Gleeson. 

"Do  we  ever  understand  what  we  think?  We  only  understand  that  thinking  which  is  a  mere  equation,  and 
from  which  nothing  comes  out  but  what  we  have  put  in.  That  is  the  working  of  the  intellect.  But  beyond  that 
there  is  a  thinking  in  primordial  images — in  symbols  which  are  older  than  historical  man;  which  have  been 
ingrained  in  him  from  earliest  times,  and,  eternally  living,  outlasting  all  generations,  still  make  up  the 
groundwork  of  the  human  psyche.  It  is  only  possible  to  live  the  fullest  life  when  we  are  in  harmony  with 
these  symbols;  wisdom  is  a  return  to  them." 

—  C.G.  Jung  from  Modern  Man  in  Search  of  a  Soul 

In  Old  Digs  Nelson  creates  a  surrealism  of  memory,  combining  the  anticipations  of  her  return  to  Sweden 
colored  with  a  subtle  lament.  Reflections  in  a  river  remark  upon  the  passage  of  time,  images  lost  and  found. 
Her  symbols  are  both  universal  and  personal:  a  bicycle,  a  dead  bird,  a  worn  fence.  The  chatter  of  voices  in 
Nelson's  native  language  underscores  her  attempt  at  making  sense  of  her  recollections,  and  how  these 
recollections  alter  her  understanding  of  the  present. 

Program  notes  by  Ariel  O'Donnell 


1993  Program  Notes 


TIMOLEON  WILKINS  &  JEROME  CAROLFI 
Filmmakers  in  Person 

December  9,  1993 


Films  by  Timolcon  Wilkins 

Colorado  native  Timolcon  Wilkins  presents  several  recent  films  that  explore  the  "natural"  world,  "this  first 
person  terrain  that  comes  into  being  out  of  instinct. ..certain  things  have  to  be  filmed,  edited,  etc.  for  reasons  I 
am  often  not  aware  of  until  later."  (TW)  Wilkins  now  resides  in  San  Francisco.  (Film  descriptions  by  the 
filmmaker) 

Night  Rose  (1991-91);  16mm,  color,  silent,  4  minutes 

This  is  my  first  16mm  film,  shot  a  few  blocks  from  where  I  lived  in  Denver.  The  "Greek"  temple  you  see 
here  is  the  "infamous"  Chessman  park — by  day,  a  benign  everyday  city  park;  by  night,  Denver's  most 
popular  spot  for  gay  cruising.  On  any  warm  night  there  was  literally  the  glow  of  a  cigarette  behind  every  tree, 
yet  the  surrounding  streets  were  so  desolate  and  calm — the  neighborhood  seemed  to  lie  in  waiting — ripe  for 
nightly  explorations  with  the  camera  and  a  first  poetic  cinematic  inspiration.  I  did  not  try  to  film  what  was 
happening  among  those  pillars  and  roses — it  was  too  dark — too  obvious. ..instead  the  film  became  a  record  of 
the  mood  of  that  time  and  place. 

T.V.  Fan/Sierra  (1991-92);  16mm,  b&w,  silent,  5  minutes 

Two  films  that  came  together  in  many  ways.  The  first:  wasting  away  a  warm  summer  day  in  front  of 
television  watching  "repeats"  (read  repetition).  The  second:  a  passage  through  Reno  (the  city  is  like  one  big 
T.V.  show  itself)— in  solitude,  but  not  alone.  Black  space,  gambling,  desert  environs — on  to  California. 

Below  Angel  World  (1993);  16mm,  color,  sound,  11  minutes 

Exploring  the  archetypes  of  the  city  in  glorious,  dark,  and  subtle  Kodachrome.  A  torch  song  to  a  love  that 
hasn't  happened  and  a  longing  for  open  space.  The  rivers  and  torrents  of  neon,  water,  and  automobiles  make 
psychosexual  fire  that  is  abruptly  contained  by  the  ever-present  fire  engines  of  loneliness. 

Grandma,  Subrosa  (1993);  Super-8mm.  color,  sound,  8  minutes 

A  portrait  of  my  grandmother,  Dorothy  Kopulos.  in  Golden  Gate  Park.  She  appears  in  this  film  as  if 
undercover— her  image  is  fleeting  within  the  constructed  nature  of  the  park— yet  she  is  able  to  emerge  strong, 
just  when  you  need  her  most.  Like  in  life.  This  film  is  dedicated  to  her. 

Father  Trip  (1993);  Super-8mm,  color,  silent,  3  minutes 

This  is  a  roll  of  very  outdated  film  1  took  in  April  of  this  year  when  I  finally  got  to  meet  my  biological  father 
for  the  first  time  since  I  was  born.  He  took  me  up  to  the  Russian  River  one  day,  and  that  trip  is  the  main  body 
of  the  film.  There  were  other  trips  happening  at  that  time,  too:  all  in  my  head— all  indescribable. 

Films  by  Jerome  Carolfi 

Jerome  Carolfi  has  been  making  films  since  1979.  He  received  a  BA  in  Communication  Arts  from  the 
University  of  Wisconsin-Madison  in  1982  and  an  MFA  in  Filmmaking  from  the  San  Francisco  Art  Institute 
in  1987.  His  films  have  been  screened  at  the  Ann  Arbor  Film  Festival,  Film  in  the  Cities,  the  Film  Arts 
Foundation  Festival,  and  the  Cinematheque.  In  addition,  his  work  has  been  screened  internationally  in 
Germany,  Norway  and  Spain. 

Lunacy  (1988);  16mm,  b&w/color,  sound,  12.5  minutes 

Influenced  by  American  experimental  films  of  the  '40s  and  '50s,  Lunacy  is  a  surreal  portrait  of  a  full  moon 
night  (lunacv=mooncrazy).  Within  the  film's  structure,  viewers  are  taken  through  a  waxing  and  waning  vortex 
of  temporary  insanity  like  a  dusk-to-dawn  drive-in  dream.  The  moon's  energy  finds  a  personal  context  within 


75 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

the  film's  constant  transformations,  suggesting  altered  perceptual  states,  tlecting  illusions  and  irrationality  in 
various  forms.  What  emerges  is  a  kind  of  expressionist  portrait  of  Fall  making  its  transition  to  Winter  with 
the  autumnal  full  moon  marking  a  turning  point  in  the  changing  seasons. 

Town  of  Day  (1989);  16mm.  b&w/color.  sound.  13.5  minutes 

The  process  of  making  this  film,  which  began  as  an  exploration  of  personal  identity,  family  historv  and 
birthplace,  ultimately  led  me  to  question  the  manner  in  which  historical  narratives  arc  too  often  regarded  as 
authoritative  sources  of  truth.  Ostensibly  the  film  commemorates  my  father's  death,  but  in  so  doing  it  also 
acknowledges  connections  between  his  life  and  the  lives  of  others  who  had  lived  in  the  same  Wisconsin 
community.  By  looking  back  to  the  rural  country  of  my  father's  and  grandfather's  generations.  1  was 
reminded  that  this  place  had  been  home  for  both  Native  Americans  and  Whites  and  that  both  cultures  had  left 
traces  of  their  existences  behind  them.  I  think  that  it  was  only  through  the  enormity  of  my  father's  death  that  I 
was  truly  able  to  understand  how  life  and  death  events  draw  people  together  in  much  more  profound  ways 
than  written  histories.  Ultimately,  our  lives  and  loves  emerge  from,  revolve  around  and  retreat  into  the  same 
land.  When  I  think  about  those  White  European  settlers  in  the  "new"  world,  I  wonder  how  the  new  "owners" 
of  the  land  could  have  known  that  they  would  also  come  to  own  the  sorrow  of  the  dispossessed? 

Inflorescence  (1991);  Super-8mm,  b&w/color,  silent,  11  minutes 

As  the  cold  and  snowy  winter  of  the  upper  Midwest  begins  to  give  way  to  spring,  the  transition  is  usually 
preceded  by  the  gradual  reemergence  of  light  as  the  longer  days  provide  a  subtle  clue  of  what  is  to  follow. 
When  this  happens,  a  feeling  of  something  incipient  is  in  the  air,  but  not  much  appears  to  happen.  Suddenly, 
though,  the  transformation  makes  itself  visible  and  spring  arrives,  bursting  upon  the  scene  like  the 
inflorescing  of  the  pink  cherry  blossoms. 

Loci  Lacunae  (1993);  16mm,  b&w/color,  sound,  7.5  minutes 

Taken  from  Latin,  Loci  Lacunae  means  "sites  of  the  blank  spaces  in  the  texts."  and  it  is  the  nature  of  filmic 
gaps  which  this  work  explores.  Created  by  combining  marginal  photo-realist  imagery  with  abstract  hand- 
processed  footage.  Loci  Lacunae  provokes  a  consideration  of  the  level  on  which  its  texts  function,  challenging 
the  viewer  to  regard  the  gaps  not  as  denoting  something  that  is  missing,  but  something  else  that  is  present. 

(Film  descriptions  by  the  filmmaker) 

"When  It  Comes  Right  Down  to  Doing  It" 
(from  Town  of  Day) 

I  am  just  almost  sure  that 

he  had  it  /  nothing,  I  said. 

He  wouldn't,  he  wouldn't  look  at  it.  I  said. 

And  I  said  this  time  he's  gotta  help  me,  I  said. 

And  she  said,  I  didn't  understand  it  was  that  way  at  home, 

she  said. 

But  she  said  he's  making  no  effort  to  learn,  she  said, 

and  / 1 ... 

And  she  said,  you  go  home  this  morning, 

she  said.  You  don't  stay. 

She  said,  you  go  home.  (two  voices  together) 

And  I  went  home.  -  But  you  just  try  ... 


Ma  got  back  just  as, 

Ma  was  just  gonna  go  out  and  take  a  walk. 

It  was  like  Ma  had  a  premonition. 

Well,  actually,  I  mean  you  could  say  he  was 
he  was,  I  mean  he  was  truly,  truly  dying. 
That  was  it. 


But  he  just  thought  that  I  had  to  go 


1993  Program  Notes 


That  was  it  -  I  mean.  Dad  was  a,  a  liver. 

I  mean  he  lived,  he  lived  lite  to  the  utmost. 

...  for  a  man  that  was  almost  dying  ... 

or ...  You  don't,  you  know, 

face  it  yourself.  You  think. 

You  think  well,  yeah,  he's  gonna  be  here  yet 

tomorrow.  I'll  come  back  again  tomorrow  ... 

That's  the  way,  I  always  felt  that  way. 

He's  gonna  be  here  yet  tomorrow. 

I  just ...  every  day  I  thought  that. 

When  I  went  to  bed  or  something, 

he's  gonna  be  here  yet  tomorrow,  I  used  to  say 

to  myself.  He's  gonna  be  here  yet  tomorrow. 

And  I ...  deep  down  1  knew  that 

one  day  would  be  the  last  but  still 

I  always  looked  forward  to  the  next  day 

he  was  going  to  be  there  yet. 

I  don't  know  if  I  ever  told  you  this. 

She  said  to  him, 

George,  well  this  morning  I'm  gonna  be  invisible. 

You're  not  so  sure  you  want  to  do  that 

when  it  comes  right  down  to  doing  it. 

We're  all  in  the  same  boat. 

That's  the  way  it  is  Jerry, 

there  are  people  up  there  that  are  gonna  die, 

and  there's  no  hope  for. 

a  couple  of  them... 

(unitelligible,  voice  like  auctioneer) 

...  and  they'd  say, 

well,  everybody  is  in  the  same  boat. 

Yeah. 

All  the  people  up  there  have  people  dying. 

...  because  you  all  knew, 

you  were  all  in  exactly  the  same  boat. 

— Jerome  Carolfi 


WINTER  DREAM  SONGS: 
Films  by  Peter  Herwitz,  Joseph  Cornell  and  Sergei  Eisenstein 


December  12,  1993 


Films  by  Peter  Herwitz: 


In  the  Shape  of  Waking,  Part  2  (In  the  Rhythm  of  Falling)  (1989-90  );  16mm,  color,  silent,  8 

minutes 

"This  film  quartet  represents  a  kind  of  luminous  waking  from  the  darker  dream  worlds  of  the  past  portrayed 

in  my  earlier  films.  Part  2  is  a  lyrical  journey  through  the  city  whose  shapes  and  colors  rhyme  with  but  are 

veiled  by  paint  and  other  media  on  the  surface  of  the  film." 


77 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Autumn  Chanson  (Song  of  Autumn)  (1991);  16mm,  color,  silent.  5  minutes 

"A  song  which  uses  the  rich  colors  of  autumn  to  interweave  with  one  another  in  patterns  that  sing  of  the 
beauty  and  fragility  of  this  time  of  year.  More  than  in  any  of  my  other  films,  the  superimpositions  and 
layering  seem  to  create  a  voice  and  accompaniment  reminiscent  of  songs,  melodies,  or  lieder." 

Films  from  Melodies  aux  pays  des  reves  (Songs  from  the  Country  of  Dreams)  (1992-93); 
16mm.  color,  silent 

"A  song  cycle  which  takes  as  its  themes  the  subtle  and  delicate  areas  between  dreams  and  waking, 
imagination  and  reveries,  and  the  potential  beauty  and  intensity  of  seeing  the  worked  thought  moments  of 
epiphany — as  with  memory  and  dreams." 

The  Color  of  Rain  2  minutes 

Rainy  days — dreamlike  colors  and  transformations. 

The  Dream  Gardens    5  minutes 

A  garden,  a  niche,  a  place  where  dreams  and  shadows,  clouds  and  flowers,  angels  and  people  can 

meet. 

The  Enchanted  Places  3  minutes 

A  child's  place  for  dreaming,  outdoors,  by  the  water,  in  the  forest,  on  a  swing.  The  film  takes  its  title 

from  Christopher  Robin  Milnes's  memoirs  and  is  my  version  of  A.  A.  Milne's  Thousand  Acre 

Woods. 

Reflections   2  minutes 

The  most  abstract  film  in  the  series,  this  work  ponders  the  elusive  nature  of  reflections — both  as  mirror 

and  as  thoughts. 

Of  Twilight  and  Leaves  3  minutes 

After  some  dark  and  delicate  dreams  an  explosive  one  with  deep  rich  colors,  leaves  turning  color  and 

bathed  in  light,  and  an  ecstatic  movement  towards  twilight. 

Winter  Dream  Lieder  (1993);  16mm,  color,  silent,  12  minutes 

"A  series  of  simple  melodies  that  are  nevertheless  meant  to  capture  the  dream-like  quality  of  winter  scenes 
and  interior  moments.  The  film  juxtaposes  images  of  flowers  and  snow  in  such  a  way  as  is  meant  to  evoke 
some  complicated  textures  of  dream  and  a  simple  dichotomy  of  blossoming  and  darkness."  (PH.) 


1993  Program  Notes 

Reverie  For  Peter  Herwitz 

within  the  space  of  a  blink  is  a  journey 

through  light  and  sky 

seeing  the  world  from  the  slits 

that  let  light  through  a  feather 

distilling  time  to  make  a  second  out  of  a  day 

making  colors  out  of  muddy  water 

on  top  of  rosy  shapes  of  skin 
the  complexions  of  clouds 
or  windows  on  faces 
shift  in  and  out  of  the  eyes 
their  movements  as  inevitable 
as  those  of  the  sun 

choreographing  the  minutes  into  mosaics 

we  grasp  time  in  our  mouths 

and  blow  it  out  as  bubbles 

echoing  the  leaves  rustling 

by  showing  a  hand  caressing  a  head 

if  you  speed  up  your  blinking 

you  see  the  world  as  it  passes  though  itself 

as  reflections  of  reflections 

frame  by  frame 

if  you  open  your  eyes  wider 
to  suck  in  all  the  light 
the  wrinkles  make  patterns 
that  show  us  the  world 
as  the  movement  of  dreams 

—Sharon  Shively 

A  Legend  for  Fountains  (1957-70),  by  Joseph  Cornell;  16mm,  b&w,  silent,  16  1/2  minutes 
Known  until  1965  also  as  "A  Fable  for  Fountains."  With  Susan  Miller  as  the  protagonist.  With  reference  to 
Garcia  Lorca's  poem  "Tu  Infancia  en  Menton."  The  first  part  of  the  film  entitled  fragments.   The 
second.". ..your  solitude,  in  shy  hotels"  (a  line  from  a  Lorca  poem). 

Your  Childhood  in  Menton 

"Yes,  your  childhood  now  a  legend  of  fountains." 

— Jorge  Guillen 

Yes,  your  childhood  now  a  legend  of  fountains. 

The  train,  and  the  woman  who  fills  the  sky. 

Your  evasive  solitude  in  hotels 

and  your  pure  mask  of  another  sign. 

It  is  the  sea's  childhood  and  the  silence 

when  wisdom's  glasses  all  are  shattered. 

It  is  your  inert  ignorance  of  where 

my  torso  lay,  bound  by  fire. 

Man  of  Apollo,  I  gave  you  love's  pattern, 

the  frenzied  nightingale's  lament. 

But.  pasture  of  ruins,  you  kept  lean 

for  brief  and  indecisive  drams. 

Thought  of  what  was  confronted,  yesterday's  light, 

tokens  and  traces  of  chance. 


70 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 

Your  restless  waist  of  sand 

favors  only  tracks  that  don't  ascend. 

But  must  1  search  all  corners 

for  your  tepid  soul  without  you  which  doesn't  understand 

you 
with  my  thwarted  Apollonian  sorrow 
that  broke  through  the  mask  you  wear. 
There,  lion,  there,  heavenly  fury. 
I'll  let  you  graze  on  my  cheeks: 
there,  blue  horse  of  my  madness, 
pulse  of  nebula  and  minute  hand. 
I'll  search  the  stones  for  scorpions 
and  your  childlike  mother's  clothes, 
midnight  lament  and  ragged  cloth 
that  tore  the  moon  out  of  the  dead  man's  brow. 
Yes,  your  childhood  now  a  legend  of  fountains. 
Soul  a  stranger  to  my  veins'  emptiness, 
I'll  search  for  you  rootless  and  small. 
Eternal  love,  love,  love  that  never  was! 
Oh,  yes!  I  love.  Love,  love!  Leave  me. 
Don't  let  them  gag  me,  they  who  seek 
the  wheat  of  Saturn  through  the  snow, 
who  castrate  creatures  in  the  sky. 
clinic  and  wilderness  of  anatomy. 
Love,  love,  love.  Childhood  of  the  sea. 
Your  tepid  soul  without  you  which  doesn't  understand  you. 
Love,  love,  a  flight  of  deer 
through  the  endless  heart  of  whiteness. 
And  your  childhood,  love,  your  childhood. 
The  train,  and  the  woman  who  tills  the  sky. 
Not  you  or  I,  not  the  wind  or  the  leaves, 
yes,  your  childhood  now  a  legend  of  fountains. 

— Federico  Garcia  Lorca,  translated  by  Edwin  Honig 

Romance  Sentimentale  (1930),  by  Sergei  M.  Eisenstein,  G.V.  Alexandrov,  Edouard  Tisse;  16mm.  b&w, 
sound,  20  minutes 

This  short  film  was  commissioned  by  Leonard  Rosenthal,  the  "Pearl  King"  of  Paris,  as  a  showcase  for  his 
Russian  mistress,  singer  Mira  Giry.  Romance  Sentimentale  is  credited  as  Eisenstein's  first  sound  film.  In 
actuality,  he  had  contributed  very  little  to  the  production  because  he  was  unable  to  cope  with  Giry's 
overbearing  personality  and  closed-mindedness  for  the  experimental.  When  Eisenstein  left  for  Mexico  to 
begin  production  on  Que    Viva  Mexico,  Alexandrov  stayed   behind   in   Paris   to   complete  Romance 
Sentimentale. 


1993  Program  Notes 


Makers  Index 


K 


Adlestein,  Gary  28 
Ahwesh,  Peggy  16 
Alexandrov,  G.V.  80 
Alperin,  Leslie  8 
Alvarez,  Alfonso  37 
Atwell,  Martha  55 


B 

Bain,  Claire  70 
Barber,  Stephanie  32 
Barnett,  Daniel  52 
Barry,  Wesley  E.  19 
Bernberg,  Lana  36 
Biermann,  Gregg  33 
Biren,  Jordan  53 
Blumen,  Rebecca  A.  49 
Brakhage,Stan8,41,52 
Braynard,  Noeile  20 
Breer,  Robert  21-22 
Broughton,  James  67 
Browning,  Tod  48 
Buckingham,  Matthew  2 


Carolfi,  Jerome  75 
Chernov,  Matt  33 
Child,  Abigail  52 
Cobb,  Portia  54 
Coray,  Tony  50 
Cornell,  Joseph  79 
Cousin,  N.  36 
Cronbach,  Emily  54 
Cuba,  Larry  35 

D 

Daniel,  Bill  37 

De  Hirsch,  Storm  28-30, 52 

Deal,  Kevin  33 

Dixon,  Winston  Wheeler  8 

Donovan,  Susana  36 

Dougherty,  Cecilia  55. 58 

Dulac,  Germaine  40 

Dye,  Steven  35 


Earl,  Alison  36 
Eisenstein,  Sergei  80 
Elder,  R.  Bruce  72 
Epstein,  Jean  41 
Eros,  Bradley  52 
Ertl,  Gerhard  45 
Evans,  Keith  1 
Export,  Valie  46 


Fagin,  Steve  37 
Farocki,  Harun  2 
Farrell,  Christian  1 
Fass,  Danny  2 
Flannery,  Jim  36 
Flint,  Gavin  68 
Flowers,  Robert  32 
Friedrich,  Su  6,  58 
Froehle,  Paula  8 


G 

Gehr,  Ernie  9-15, 48 
George,  Carl  2 
Gerstein,  Ariana  32 
Giankian,  Yervant  56 
Gibson,  Linda  20 
Goldberg,  Brian  1 
Gottheim,  Larry  49 

H 

Hankie,  Jim  50 
Harris,  Thomas  Allen  16, 49 
Hatoum,  Mona  57 
Hayn,  Stefan  50 
Hernandez,  Al  37,  70 
Hershman,  Lynn  23-24 
Hertz,  Nathan  64 
Herwitz,  Peter  52,  77 
Hiebler,  Sabine  45 
Hills,  Henry  23 
Horowitz,  Jonathan  2 
Hurwitz,  Elise  33 
Hutton,  Peter  23 


Jacobs,  Ken  53 
Juran,  Nathan  64 
Johns,  Jennifer  50 


Kalin,  Tom  2 
Keller,  Marjorie  62 
Kelly,  Joe  2 
Kibbins,  Gary  54 
Kilchesty,  Albert  53 
Kinugasa,  Teinosuke  17 
Kirby,  Lynn  3, 37 
Kirsanov,  Dimitri  40 
Kitchen,  Diane  74 
Klahr,  Lewis  48 
Klausner,  Drew  35 
Kless,  Larry  37 
Kobland,  Ken  48 
Kolda,  Helena  31 
Korschil,  Thomas  8 
Kratisch,  Ingo  60 
Kren,  Kurt  8 
Kuchar,  George  16, 53 
Kuchar,  Mike  18 


Lama,  Bret  36 
LaPore,  Mark  48 
Levine,  Paula  52 
Lin,  Lana  C.  2 
Lindell,  John  2,  50 
Liotta,  Jeanne  52 
Lowe,  Pelle  17 
Lux,  Billy  49 

M 

Maas,  Willard  7 
MacDougall,  Marina  37 
Mann,  Anthony  25 
Mann,  Lisa  54 
Masayesva  jr.,  Victor  71 
Mattuschka,  Mara  45 
McAdams,  Heather  8 
McElhatten,  Mark  48 
Melford,  George  48 
Merrick,  Lynne  74 
Michalak,  David  27 
Munoz,  Susana  38 
Murray,  Julie  58 

N 

Nelson,  Gunvor  16,  74 
Nikoloff,  Alex  36 
Nikoloff,  Martha  36 


83 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 


o 

Ofner,  Astrid  45 
Oki,  Hiroyuki  51 
Olitzky,  Seth  35 
Onwurah,  Ngozi  16 


Stagias,  Nickolaos  49 
Stanley,  Anie  49 
Stark,  Scott  8,  37,  48,  53 
Street,  Mark  37 


Petty,  Sara  36 

Pilar,  Radek  31 

Ponger,  Lisl  45 

Porter,  John  59 

Portillo,  Lourdes  38 

Prelinger,  Rick  46 

PRINZGAU/podgorschek  46 

R 


Tempest,  Kim  35 
Theise,  E.S.  35 
Thornton,  Leslie  48 
Tisse,  Edouard  80 
Topping,  John  50 

u 

U.N.R.R.A.56 
Urveta,  Chano  64 


Ra'ad,  Walid  56 
Ray,  Nicholas  24 
Redding,  Judith  M.  49 
Ricci  Lucchi,  Angela  56 
Richter,  Hans  40 
Rock,  Johnny  36 
Rosenthal,  Ken  Paul  36 
Rossellini,  Roberto  60 
Rudnick,  Michael  36,  37 


Saks,  Eric  55 
Salloum,  Jayce  56 
Sandler,  Arlene  49 
Sartory,  Jutta  60 
Sax,  Erin  53 
Schatzman,  Richard  37 
Schleiner,  Anne-Marie  36 
Schmidt,  Francis  32 
Sharits,  Paul  65 
Shaw,  Alexa-Frances  72 
Sher,  Elizabeth  34 
silt  1, 53 
Singer,  Joel  67 
Singer,  Leslie  55 
Sirk,  Douglas  4 
6th  St.  Photo  Workshop  51 
Smith,  Cauleen  57 
Smith,  Jack  61 
Smith,  Vejan  Lee  49 
Snider,  Dean  37 
Snider,  Greta  2, 54 
Snow,  Michael  49 
Soe,  Valerie  20 
Solomon,  Philip  16 
Sonbert,  Warren  23 


Valladares,  Michelle  71 
Ve  Sota,  Bruno  64 
Verow,  Todd  50,  53 

w 

Warrin,  Jeff  1 
Weiss,  Helga  36 
Welsby,  Chris  43 
Wiatr,  Elizabeth  55 
Wilkins,  Timoleon  36,  52,  75 
Wittenstein,  Alyce  19 
Wolens,  Doug  36 
Wright,  Charles  52 


1993  Program  Notes 


Titles  Index 


Acceleration  37, 53 

Across  the  Street  37 

Adventures  of  Jimmy  67 

Adynata  49 

Allure  of  the  Threshhold,  The  36 

Amusement  Park  59 

Angel  Baby  59 

Animal  in  Motion  59 

Answering  Furrow,  The  63 

Approaching  the  14th  Moon  34 

Artist's  logo/intro  montage  31 

As  You  Lift  Your  Eyelids,  Tracing  Lightly  52 

Aspiratia  53 

ATION  PROGR  1 

Autour  la  Region  Centrale  49 

Autumn  Chanson  (Song  of  Autumn)  78 


B 


Bacchanalia  31 

Bad  Day  Cycling  Is  Better  Than  a  Good  Day  at 

Work,  A  37 
Bali  Mecanique  23 
Below  Angel  World  75 
Beneath  the  Surface  50 
Black  Body  49 
Black  Sheep  20 
Blazes  22 

Blossom — Gift/Favor  41 
Body  Beautiful,  The  16 
Book  of  All  the  Dead,  The  73 
Boulder  Blues  and  Pearls  and...  41 
Boy  Frankenstein  36 
Brain  Eaters,  The  64 
Brain  from  Planet  Arous,  The  64 
Brainiac,  The  64 
Built  for  Endurance  53 


Calculated  Movements  35 

Candy  Tangerine  Man  2 

Celebrights  37 

Changing  World:  A  History  Of  Feminist  Art  24 

Chapbook  of  the  Non-eminent  55 

Check  Up  34 

Chemo  31 

Child's  Garden  and  the  Serious  Sea,  A  41 

Children  of  War  56 


Chintz  17 

Christ  Mass  Sex  Dance  52 

Chronicles  of  a  Lying  Spirit  by  Kelly  Gabron  57 

Cinefuge  59 

Circus,  Small  32 

City  City  Day  Nite  37 

City  Film  49 

City  of  Fear  54 

Collector,  The  36 

Color  of  Rain,  The  78 

Colors  31 

Colour  Eyes  (Irome)  51 

Colour  Wind  (Ira  Kaxe)  51 

Columbus  on  Trial  38 

Coyote  Cow  52 

Creation  of  the  Humanoids  19 

Crossings  20 

Cut  Piece — An  Homage  to  Yoko  Ono  24 


D 


Dance  With  A  Body,  A  50 

Daniel  Willi,  March  April  May  1992  15 

Death  of  Dottie  Love,  The  50 

Declarative  Mode  66 

Deep  in  the  Mirror  Embedded  28 

Dervish  Machine  52 

DHPG  Mon  Amour  2 

Dial-A-Kvetch  53 

Diversity  20 

Divinations  28 

Down  on  Me  59 

Dracula  48 

Drag  on  a  Fag  49 

Drama  of  the  Gifted  Child,  The  58 

Dream  Cantata  33 

Dream  Gardens,  The  78 

Dream  of  Love  33 

Drive-by  Shoot!  54 


E 


Earth,  Light,  Air  31 

Earthly  Possessions  17 

Echo  Anthem  37 

Eights  35 

El  Baron  del  Terror  64 

El  Sabor  Rojo  36 

Emerald  Palace,  The  1 

Empty  Sky  20 

Enchanted  Places,  The  78 

Ephemeral  Films  of  the  Rick  Prelinger  Archive  46 

Es  hat  mich  sehr  gefreut  45 

Eureka  10 

Exams  59 

Expulsion  58 

Exultations:  In  Light  of  the  Great  Giving  72 


85 


San  Francisco  Cinematheque 


It's  Time  To  35 

Itam  Hakim,  Hopiit  71 


Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher,  The  41 

Father  Trip  75 

Fest8 

Fetal  Pig  Anatomy  8 

Field  9 

Films  by  Stan  Brakhage:  An  Avant-Garde  Home 

Movie  8 

finally  destroy  us  2 

Firefly  59 

Fist  Fight  22 

Five  Bad  Elements,  The  48 

Hag  20 

Flare  Up  31 

Flashpoint  35 

Fontvella's  Box  50 

Foreign  Parts  62 

Frog  on  a  Swing,  A  21 

Fuji  21 


Jamestown  Baloos  21 
January  '91  36 
Joe-Joe  55 
Johnny  Guitar  24 
Juggling  34 
Jump  Fence  70 
Jungle  Breath  31 

K 

KNBR55 
KUCH  NAI  1 

Kugelkopf45 


Garden  of  Eden,  The  32 
Geography  of  the  Body  7 
Germany,  Year  Zero  60 
Ghosts  Before  Breakfast  40 
Grandma,  Subrosa  75 
Grapefruitfilm  1 
Great  Invisible,  The  48 
Gulls  and  Buoys  22 

H 

Hamilton  Homes  59 

Happy  Loving  Couples  36 

Hard  to  Swallow  50 

Heart  of  Seduction,  The  49 

Herein  63 

History  9 

Homage  to  Jean  Tinguely's  Homage  to  New  York 

21 


La  Habanera  5 

Lace  of  Summer  28 

Landscape  59 

Landscape  Catching  (Koukei  Dori)  51 

Las  Madres  de  Plaza  de  Mayo  38 

Legend  for  Fountains,  A  79 

Les  Miserables  45 

Life  Is  a  Serious  Business  28 

Little  Ditty,  A  36 

Little  Stabs  at  Happiness  53 

Livingroom  45 

Loci  Lacunae  76 

Lodz  Symphony  23 

Looking  Glass  Trilogy,  The  17 

Love  and  Faith  28 

Love  Craft  52 

Love  Is  Something  if  You  Give  It  Away  36 

Love  Letter  to  Galileo  32 

Lunacy  75 

M 


I  Raise  My  Arm  33 

If  You  Lived  Here  You'd  Be  Home  By  Now  37 

Images  of  the  World  and  the  Inscription  of  War  2 

Imagining  Indians  71 

In  the  Piggery  31 

In  the  Shape  of  Waking,  Part  2  (In  the  Rhythm  of 

Falling)  77 

Inflorescence  76 

Inoten  46 

Introduction  17 


Malevich  at  the  Guggenheim  28 

Man  and  His  Dog  Out  for  Air,  A  21 

Mark  Called  49 

Martha's  Balloon  Ride  59 

Martina's  Playhouse  16 

Mead  Lake  54 

Measures  of  Distance  57 

Melodies  aux  pays  des  reves  (Songs  from  the 

Country  of  Dreams)  78 

Melody  For  Buddy  Matsumae  (Matsumae-Kun  No 

Senritsu)51 

Memory  of  Time  31 


1993  Program  Notes 


Menilmontant  40 

Migration  of  the  Blubbcroids  16 

Miracle,  A  21 

Mirage  10 

Mirror  of  Time  31 

Mixed  Blood  20 

Modernist-Not  52 

Mondays  49 

Morning  9 

Mother  and  Child  59 

Mother's  Hands  49 

Mutiny  52 

My  Eccentric  Cupboard  31 

My  New  Lover  50 

N 

Nearby,  A  Female  is  Shedding  1 

New  Year  I  and  II  20 

Night  Rose  75 

No  Such  Thing  as  Gravity  19 

No  Zone  54 

Noon  Song  31 

,  nor  17 

Normal  Love  61 

Not  Quite  Right  27 


Preludes  in  Magical  Time  36 

Pubic  Beard  49 

Put  Your  Lips  Around  Yes  2,  50 

Q 

Quick  Constant  8 

R 

Rapture  66 
Receiving  Sally  53 
Recreation  21 
Recurring  Dream,  The  28 
Reflections  78 
Remains  to  be  Seen  16 
Reverberation  9 
Revolving  Restaurant  59 
Romance  Sentimentale  80 
Roots,  Thorns  74 
RTC  Vocabulary  Reel  35 
Rules  of  the  Road  7 


o 

O  Logischer  Garten  60 

Of  Twilight  and  Leaves  78 

Old  Digs  74 

On  the  Beach  20 

Once  a  Face  27 

100  Views  of  New  York  48 

Our  Gay  Brothers  2 


Page  of  Madness.  A  17 
Painting  in  the  Air  31 
Panorama  37 
Parasympathica  45 
Part  Four:  Green  Hill  63 
Pat's  Birthday  22 
PBL#2  22 
Pennant  Fever  53 
People,  Years,  Life  56 
Petroglyph  Park  70 
Piece  Mandala/End  War  66 
Pharoah's  Belt  48 
Pleading  Art  59 
Popcorn  Obstacles  28 
Portraits,  Part  1 27 
Postmodern  Daydream  37 
Potentia  36 


S:TREAM:SECTION:S:ECnON:S:S:ECnONED66 

Saints,  The  31 

Santa  Claus  Parade  59 

Satrapy  8 

Savannah  Bay  45 

Scanning  #5  59 

Scattered  Remains  67 

Sea  Pictures  44 

Seashell  and  the  Clergyman,  The  40 

Secret  of  the  Lost  Tunnel,  The  59 

Seeing  is  Believing  23 

Semiotic  Ghosts  45 

September  Express  28, 52 

Serene  Velocity  10 

Seven  Lucky  Charms  54 

7022 

7722 

Sewing  On  A  Breast  50 

Sharon  and  the  Birds  on  the  Way  to  the  Wedding  3 

Shift  12 

Shooting  Script  /  A  Transatlantic  Love  Story  24 

Shootout  with  Rebecca  59 

Short  Fuse  23 

Side/Walk/Shuttle  15 

SideTRACKED  8 

Sign  of  the  Pagan  5 

Signal — Germany  on  the  Air  12 

Sink  or  Swim  6 

Sins  of  the  Fleshapoids  18 

66  21 

69  21 


87 


Skullfuck2 

Sky  Login  44 

-     j  Instant.  Weddini  - 

Sometimes  35 

Sorrv  Our  Time  Is  Up  31 

Sparfcill  Ave  21.  22 

Spitting  Image  8 

Splash  16 

Spring 8 

Spring/Fal]  Cincsongs:  For  Siorm  De  Hirsch  28 

Slack  of  Black  Cas,A  74 

Sieve  Reich  for  Two  Projectors  36 

Stream  Line  44 

Streei  Scenes  37 

Subtle  Fligfai  of  Buds.  The  35 

Surprised  52 

Survival  of  Images.  The  68 

Swiss  Army  Knife  with  Rats  and  Pigeons  21 

Syntagma  46 


W 


in  fee  dak."! 


Who  Stole  the  Kccshka?  (Calling  W-A-2-E^-V)  28 

lhtUHD43 

Window  Water  Bobby  Moving  59 

••>".*  ?". -~.  _.;.;;"  ~v 
Wirework  1991-1992  36 
Wood  and  Stone  31 


x-z 

You  Never  Wony  33 
Zero  Degrees  Latitude  37 


Table  10 

i\buLose27 
[Man,  The  28 
I  (They  Hold  |  fl 
67 
Text  53 

THE  SPACE  BETWEEN  26. 37,  51 
The  Furies  25 
There  Ilk.  Taken  55 
Thud  Eye  Butterfly  28 
This  Side  of  Paradise  12 
Three  Domestic  Interiors  3 
Through  the  Door  2 
Ties  That  Bind.  The  58 
Tune  Being  16 
Tune  of  Mirth  31 
Tune  of  Mourning  31 
Tune  Petrified  31 
Too  Young  to  Date  34 
Totem  48 
Town  of  Day  76 
Training,  The  34 
Transparency  9 
Tree  Farm  Energy  32 
Truth  About  Abraham  Lincoln.  The  2 
TVFan/Siena36.75 

Two  Early  Films:  Quick  Content  and  Solid  Instant, 
Wedding  8 
TZ.22 


l-V 


Up  to  the  South  56 

Vfevooma  and  the  Moon  Goddess  61 

Vd  and  the  Bus  70