Rotterdam Dispatch. 4.

In the multiple choice personality test that is a large part of Walmart's application process, the following question/statement appears: "There is room in every corporation for a non-conformist." The correct answer is, of course, "totally disagree." The systematic reassertion of this great American principal forms the backbone of Rick Prelinger's Panorama Ephemera. Prelinger is a film archivist, and his film is comprised of 64 self-contained film sequences, ranging from five seconds to four minutes in length, all presumably taken from his archive of advertising, industrial and amateur prints. The collection is obviously edited with intent and tells a type of story about America. Between amusing set pieces, we are told that if you don't keep your home painted and your yard clean you will burn in the inevitable Hell of atomic warfare. It's all very scientific, you know, and here are three sample houses burned together by a real atomic bomb in a highly controlled test to prove it. The other real danger, other than aberrant behavior, is complacency. It is repeated over and over again in different ways that, whether a parent or a child, as soon as you let your guard down something terrible will happen. In this way Panorama Ephemera stands as perfect evidence for some of the theories presented in Adam Curtis's must see The Power of Nightmares. The two would make a brilliant, if completely terrifying, marathon of a double bill.  

Agnès Varda's latest work, Cinévardaphoto, is a collection of three short films that all examine the power of photography in storytelling, history and our own understanding. The first, Ydessa, les ours et etc..., is the only new work of the three. It takes as its subject Ydessa, a Canadian artist and curator who has amassed for exhibition over 3000 historical photos that feature, in some way or another, teddy bears. Her obsession seems to have stemmed from a family photo, and she takes as her inspiration her parents' survival of the Auschwitz internment camp. If we were left to rely on Varda's commentary alone, combined with the exhibition itself, the film would be simply wonderful. Unfortunately, Ydessa, a fascinating character to Varda, does little but spout vague Manhattan art scene rhetoric. Perhaps this would work better for a foreign audience, but to North Americans, she's likely to come off as extremely annoying.

The second of the films, Ulysse, won a César on its original release in 1982. In it, Varda revisits a photograph she took in 1954, as well the models and time period in which it was taken. In characteristic Varda fashion, what sounds straightforward in a synopsis is full of insight and philospophy in the telling. Navel-gazing often comes off poorly in experimental filmmaking (take for an example the awful Landscape of My Heart, also at Rotterdam). Varda tackles it with a sense of humor and some genuine enthusiasm for exploration, which is what makes many of her films so delightful.

Finally, Salut les Cubains (wonderfully translated as Hi there, Cubans) is a companion piece film made for a Parisian photography exhibit that was focused on post-revolution Cuba. It was originally made in 1964 and stands in this collection untouched, which shows that Varda must have a lighthearted love for the idealism of her youth. Essentially a joyous and dated propaganda piece, Salut les Cubains tells us just as much about the hope of France's Marxist movement as it does about Cuba. There are some interesting references to local painters, writers and musicians, which help to solidify this film's true role as a time capsule for both countries.

Posted by dwhudson at February 5, 2005 8:08 AM