August 05, 2005
Last week in the Times, on the eve of the newly rechristened Scanners Festival (nee New York Video Festival), Manohla Dargis wondered if in this age of digital cinema whether video festivals had cause for existence anymore. Both varieties show works originated on both formats, and those formats are increasingly indistinguishable. Dargis quickly dropped the debate in favor of celebrating the work being exhibited, which I think was the right choice. Still, I like the connotations of the term 'video festival.' It denotes not so much a medium but a context and style; one is more likely to come across an installation than a narrative film, and the opportunity for experimentation, on the part of the filmmakers, the programmers and the audience alike, seems far greater.
I mention this because the 18th Annual Dallas Video Festival just began. It's the oldest video festival in the country, and the best media festival of any sort in North Texas.
Tonight, the showcase was a screening at the DMA of a custom work by filmmaker/projectionist/artist Luke Savisky, whom I first became aware of when Bryan Poyser interviewed him for the Austin Chronicle a few months ago. It was one of those cases where just reading about the work made me incredibly excited; and indeed, tonight's piece was just my cup of tea.
The prelude was a bit of pure (and yet ironic) self-reflexivity. Standing at the front of the darkened auditorium, Savisky carried a 16mm projector in his arms, projecting a loop of his own face onto the faces of various audience members. A video camera was mounted to the projector, and it provided a live feed for a video projector that threw these paradoxical images on the big screen. It was simultaneously eerie, beautiful and funny.
This was accompanied by music, which, after reaching its climax, signaled the beginning of the body of the exhibition. The best description I can give of it is: imagine five or six different versions of Bill Morrison's Decasia projected simultaneously through geometrically skewed lenses. It was an hypnotic and frequently - when the abstractions blossomed into something recognizable in time with the score - transcendent visual experience. The only drawback was with the DMA's speakers - the music wasn't nearly as infusive as I imagine it was supposed to be (we ran into this problem when we screened Deadroom in the same auditorium last year). Nevertheless, it was an outstanding exhibition, and I'd strongly recommend not missing any chance you might have to see Savisky's work, which is of that wonderful sort that is never the same twice (also, he's really nice in person - a running trend with Austin filmmakers).
I'm guessing that nothing else is going to top it; but of course I'll be attending the festival for its duration, and I'm looking forward to seeing The Confederate States Of America tomorrow, as well as debating the ethical dilemma of skipping the first fifteen minutes of the annual Albert Maysles presentation on Saturday to see the Zellner Bros.' short film Flotsam/Jetsam. And of course Kat's co-producers, Lorie and Stacy, wil be presenting, respectively, a short film entitled Hoovergirl and a documentary called Rescue Me, so I'll definitely be catching them. And I'm going to give Rubber Johnny another chance, just to see how it works in a darkened theater with an audience.
When I first walked in to pick up my pass, Bart Weiss (the festival's founder/organizer) came over to say hi and asked why I don't have another film done yet. That's a good question, and I think I have a somewhat good answer (at least in regards to my feature film projects)...but mum's the word, you know.
Posted by David Lowery at August 5, 2005 01:43 AM