In search of the archival, Carmen-Sibha Keiso re-imagines theatre and film through personal narrative in her conceptual debut: Love & Fascism In The 21st Century. "... if Rappaport was in an art school." - Ferran Pla
Student
Student
Dancer
Narrator
narrator
Student
Singer
Student
Student
U.S. Ambassador Henry Morgenthau risks his job and his reputation by leaking memos to the New York Times and becoming the first whistleblower of the Armenian Genocide. (Based on "Ambassador Morgenthau's Story" by Henry Morgenthau)
Essay on the influence of arts at the end of the 20th century produced by the Museum of Modern Art.
(In a dark basement) Norma hears the faint voice of Everio and her own, from an Ampex vintage tape recorder. They have been talking incessantly, and *oftentimes the taped conversations coincide with their *chats. The only thing troubling Norma is that until that day, she and Everio had never met and the last she heard was Everio strangling her.
Poetic film about the struggle of man's will and muscles against nature, about the rock-climbers who prevent landslides and eliminate their consequences.
Inhabitants depicts animals in panic: the film is mostly filled with shots of mass migrations and stampedes (some, surprisingly, filmed from a helicopter). The title equalizes the species of the earth. Artavazd Peleshian merely alludes to the presence of human beings—a few silhouettes that seem to be the cause of these vast, anxious movements of animal fear. In many ways, this film is an ode to the animal world that moves toward formal abstraction, with clouds of silver birds pulverizing light. Peleshian said, “It’s hard to give a verbal synopsis of these films. Such films exist only on the screen, you have to see them.”
Ante Meridiem is a sensory journey through the first hours of dawn. Kind but vehement, he explores the dichotomy between silence and bustle, patience and haste, taking both to their ultimate consequences.
A personal and subjective video essay series on the Korean cinema, consisting of 9 episodes. Its episodes include fragments of memory about Korean films and their ‘field’, actual moments of what is happening here and now, and images excerpted from Korean films. [Ep 1] My Chungmuro (2002) [Ep 2] For March of Fools (2003) [Ep 3] Smoking Women (2003) [Ep 4] Kino 99 (2003) [Ep 5] Song of Keumsoon (2004) [Ep 6] The Creative Restoration of ‘An Empty Dream’ (2005) [Ep 7] Reflection on Kim Gu (2005) [Ep 8] Garibong, Again (2006) [Ep 9] A Short Film about Pre-1945 Korean Cinema (2006)
This documentary-style short follows two impoverished teens performing on the streets of London in the days leading up to the London Blitz of 1940.
Time-Consciousness offers four mutually contradictory versions of a series of events. The constant factors are a middle-aged poet with a gammy leg, a prostitute who may or may not be dead, and the woman’s humble room (which may or may not be tidy), where the poet does his writing. Asking "What did happen at 9:20 that evening?," the film underlines the unreliability of memory and the impossibility of objectivity.
A documentary series finale analysing the entirety of Twenty One Pilots' new full-length studio album "Trench". Jimmy not only uncovers the stories of internal pain and fear that Tyler Joseph tells through the songs on the album. But, he also learns to overcome his own personal fears.
Victor Fleming’s 1939 film The Wizard of Oz is one of David Lynch’s most enduring obsessions. This documentary goes over the rainbow to explore this Technicolor through-line in Lynch’s work.
This short film shot in a small town in Sweden navigates themes of nostalgia through an original monologue, reflecting on gender identity struggle and the pursuit of a new beginning in a foreign land.
Originally made for the 100 Feet Film Festival hosted by Image Forum. However, to test the limits, Terayama Shūji willfully made use of 3 projectors to project 300 feet of film at the same time.
Finished shooting in 1962, the movie’s cast was almost the same as its crew. With a bunch of experimental symbols such as skinny human body, clock and goat flow from one scene to another, the film explores the question of whether a man is a prisoner of time.
The smallpox virus has created its own unique atmosphere in Terayama’s film where the skin of a bandaged adolescent and the surface of the filmic image are subjected to a bizarre ‘disturbance’ as snails cross the screen and nails are hammered into the skull of the ailing patient. Illness in this film is as much a psychic entity as a physical one and manifests itself in an array of theatrical tableaux from grotesque women rigorously brushing their teeth to a snooker game where the players in white face makeup behave like automata. A Tale of Smallpox uses a medical theme to chart the traumatic dream life of Terayama’s times, evincing deep-rooted concerns in the Japanese national psyche that hark back to the upheaval of Meiji modernisation and the devastation of World War Two.
Visions of characters by the seaside from one's memory are erased by the filmmaker's hand.
Using bluescreen video techniques, Terayama playfully—and with a silent film theatricality—posits a series of postmodern vignettes featuring realities-within-realities as his protagonist attempts some kind of relationship with a nude woman on the screen-within-the-screen. In his struggles to “free” her, he exposes the absurd flimsiness, deceptiveness and mutability of both the cinema experience and our human dimension.
As a family goes on with their day, the shadows on their walls lead a completely different life.
In this Borgesian satire on knowledge and technology, bibliophilic desire leads to the construction of a pedal-powered reading machine. Resembling a combination of gymnastic contraption, printing press and early cinematic apparatus, the machine’s purpose remains ambiguous. And like this machine, Terayama’s film connects his work in poetry, motion picture and graphic design by weaving together printed and projected, still and moving images.