Three consecutive Sundays of Nathaniel Dorsky's resplendent films at the Pacific Film Archive
If pressed for a defining quality of these films, I would say rightness —each shot developing to its fullness, tuned to what comes before and after. The fact that this formal refinement is itself the focus of the films creates a suspension of time which, after all, is a basic condition of paradise. Certainly the films are colored by experience, as August and After for instance is clearly marked by grief, yet this is never what they are "about." Trust is placed in the self-expression of the film stock — its luster and dusk.
Dorsky's films will reintroduce you to what branches make of the sky and how the grass gladdens when the sun reappears from its shade. I think this is what people are talking about when they say the films remind them of childhood. "A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full/hands;/How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any/more than he./I guess it must the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful/green stuff woven." We could choose many lines of verse to say the same, but Whitman's will do. There is something mystical in Dorsky's slightly ajar illuminations of worldly objects and features. And yet so too is there something altogether sensible and almost courtly in their formal arrangements. The shots of dogs make us chuckle because we're in a position to recognize our own recognition, all too human.
On first viewing The Return struck me as a deeply melancholy work, its darkly reflecting surfaces and doublings bearing the impression of lost sleep. August and After, on the other hand, is more immediate in its effect and a superior example of how Dorsky's style can serve distinct emotional structures (threnody here). Tender impressions taken near the end of George Kuchar's life, the filmmaker surrounded by family and friends, are framed in the light of long afternoons. Everything that follows is touched by these pictures of intimacy: two workers sliding down a skyscraper, a distant glass door sweeping a ray of light across a café, agitated steps into bramble. A rhythmic montage focuses on packages and fruits carried down the street, the actual things transfigured into pure color. When the film's ship finally sails, it does so with such grace as to say love without saying.
"AFTERIMAGE: THREE NIGHTS WITH NATHANIEL DORSKY"
June 10, 17, and 24, 7:30pm, $5.50-$9.50
Pacific Film Archive
2575 Bancroft, Berk.