avant-garde
Last night I attended the 2005 Latino Film Festival for a screening of Iván Ávila Dueñas experimental film, Adán y Eva (todavía), or (in "Americanese"), Adam and Eve (Still) (2004).
It had been a long time - years, in fact - since I had sat in a theater and watched avant-garde cinema projected on a movie screen. The last time might have been when I was in film school and went to one of Dominic Angerame's informal screenings for some of his experimental film work. He was my History of Film professor at the Academy of Art College - thoroughly knowledgable about a multitude of cinematic styles, from straightforward narrative to the abstract and surreal. In his class I was exposed to directors of which I knew little to nothing, such as legends like Andrei Tarkovsky, Ingmar Bergman, Werner Herzog, Lina Wertmüller, and numerous others.
So it was with moderate excitement that I entered the Two Boots Pioneer Theater on East 3rd for the 6:30 showing. I'd looked forward to seeing it after reading its description, and I was not disappointed. It was a remarkable picture – brazen, meditative, and unafraid to discard commercial film sensibilites.
An eternity from the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve are condemned to immortality (it would seem a condemnation given the misanthropic tone of the film). They reside in the slums of modern-day Mexico City and Buenos Aires. They are like vampires who feed their appetites on society's fringe but lack the blood habit or aversion to direct sunlight. They exist without end in a sort of lethargic transfixion and seek thrills through sexually deviant behavior to enliven the deadness of their permanence. Adam finds new flesh in a night club. Eve undertakes prostitution but does not accept money. They often change their hairstyles and wardrobes. Eve clips photos from tabloids to create wall-sized montages. Adam instigates a mutual suicide - obviously it does not kill him, and he appears to feel nothing for his victim. The pair dwells in languorous moral detachment. Theirs is an interminable quest for something new, something they have not yet experienced. They are not opprobrious - they're just bored.
Director Dueñas prefers static shots to convey this panoptic ennui. His panoramic shots from rooftops scrutinize the modern world which Adam and Eve now perpetually inhabit. Delayed camera pans communicate insouciance and relate to the loss of time - when days, years, and decades have been rendered meaningless. There is sanguine acting from the two leads (as well as much of the supporting cast), with nudity and some, er... uncomfortable situations.
All said, Adam and Even (Still) is a film worth seeing for the adventurous cinephile. An education in film is not a prerequisite, but it certainly it is not for general audiences. Also, those who have difficulty navigating their local Blockbuster Video might want to skip this one, too.
It had been a long time - years, in fact - since I had sat in a theater and watched avant-garde cinema projected on a movie screen. The last time might have been when I was in film school and went to one of Dominic Angerame's informal screenings for some of his experimental film work. He was my History of Film professor at the Academy of Art College - thoroughly knowledgable about a multitude of cinematic styles, from straightforward narrative to the abstract and surreal. In his class I was exposed to directors of which I knew little to nothing, such as legends like Andrei Tarkovsky, Ingmar Bergman, Werner Herzog, Lina Wertmüller, and numerous others.
So it was with moderate excitement that I entered the Two Boots Pioneer Theater on East 3rd for the 6:30 showing. I'd looked forward to seeing it after reading its description, and I was not disappointed. It was a remarkable picture – brazen, meditative, and unafraid to discard commercial film sensibilites.
An eternity from the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve are condemned to immortality (it would seem a condemnation given the misanthropic tone of the film). They reside in the slums of modern-day Mexico City and Buenos Aires. They are like vampires who feed their appetites on society's fringe but lack the blood habit or aversion to direct sunlight. They exist without end in a sort of lethargic transfixion and seek thrills through sexually deviant behavior to enliven the deadness of their permanence. Adam finds new flesh in a night club. Eve undertakes prostitution but does not accept money. They often change their hairstyles and wardrobes. Eve clips photos from tabloids to create wall-sized montages. Adam instigates a mutual suicide - obviously it does not kill him, and he appears to feel nothing for his victim. The pair dwells in languorous moral detachment. Theirs is an interminable quest for something new, something they have not yet experienced. They are not opprobrious - they're just bored.
Director Dueñas prefers static shots to convey this panoptic ennui. His panoramic shots from rooftops scrutinize the modern world which Adam and Eve now perpetually inhabit. Delayed camera pans communicate insouciance and relate to the loss of time - when days, years, and decades have been rendered meaningless. There is sanguine acting from the two leads (as well as much of the supporting cast), with nudity and some, er... uncomfortable situations.
All said, Adam and Even (Still) is a film worth seeing for the adventurous cinephile. An education in film is not a prerequisite, but it certainly it is not for general audiences. Also, those who have difficulty navigating their local Blockbuster Video might want to skip this one, too.
posted by Walls Falling at 8:08 PM
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