Tuesday Night I attended a free screening of the 51st Ann Arbor film festival’s collection of short films, hoping to get a taste of what’s to come for the 52nd Ann Arbor film festival , which will be this March 25-30. Each film ran between 1 and 20 minutes, the entire viewing lasted about an hour and a half. Films ranged from imaginitive experimental animation to documentary to narratives with a twist–there’s no catch-all genre to describe what I was in for. Long story short, I was blown away by the talent–not only did I thoroughly enjoy my viewing experience, my entire perspective on what a movie screening can or should be is forever changed.

The first screening to catch my attention was called Burning Star. Running barely over a minute, this kaleidoscopic visual treat rendered what I interpret to be the artist’s rendition of a gaseous star. Strobing patterns of light pulsated around a black center, slowly morphing in shape and color. The stunning visuals were accompanied by a muted buzzing sound, like the crackle of an electric engine. Everything converged to the center, but the center did not remain a passive sight, beaming out pulses of fresh lights and patterns as the star continued to burn.

Another animated story that caught my attention is called Bite of the Tail, a short story about a couple going through financial troubles while the wife struggles to diagnose a strange illness–ultimately implied to be a snakebite. Bite of the Tail deviated from standard narration, each scene episodic and loosely connected to the preceding and following scenes. The film could be called a dysnarrative, if you will–a story which intentionally strays from logical scene-by-scene narrative progression in order to tell a different kind of story–an emotional, psychological journey. Less important than the events were the character’s hopes to make it through financial strife, fear of illness and human frailty–symbolized by the recurrent sinewy dance of a snake.

The next film, Pictures of Skinningrove, departed from animation altogether. This documentary is a series of pictures of the town named in the film’s title, taken over several years by a narrator. An interesting piece because the narrator did not get along with many of the town’s residents, and for this reason, it is as much a documentary about the difficulty of cultural diffusion as it is about the town in question. Although seemingly mundane at first, the stream of pictures slowly glean insight into the living history and culture of Skinningrove, a rural town recalcitrant to interact with the outside world.

There are many more films worth mentioning, such as Meteor, a 20 minute story compiling various archival footage of humynkind’s awe-inspiring explorations into space, and others which I have regretfully forgetten the name of, but the memory of which is forever etched into my mind.

If there’s one thing I learned from the short film exhibition, it’s that there isn’t a right or wrong way to make a movie. The movie screen has a bewitching power over its audience, and its a shame most blockbuster films rarely deviate from such a safe and predictable pattern of discourse. I therefore wholeheartedly encourage my peers to consider attending the 52nd Ann Arbor Film Festival on March 25-30. You will see things that you simply couldn’t at your standard theater. You will be exposed to ideas that Hollywood refuses to approach. It’s an experience that will be different, new, refreshing, inspiring.

schedule here: http://aafilmfest.org/52/events/

buy tickets here: http://www.eventbrite.com/o/ann-arbor-film-festival-3169155882
students get discounts!

When a play is done in a theater with a thrust stage the set is not hidden behind a curtain when the audience enters. For patrons who arrive and are seated when the house is first opened, this allows them 30 minutes to sit and judge the quality of the set, and by association, the show. Redwood Curtain’s first scene takes place deep in the woods of a redwood forest in northern California. To recreate a forest on stage is a formidable task, let alone to create one which can stand up to 30 minutes worth of critique. Vincent Mountain accomplished this task with a naturalistic flare for spectacle which left the audience in awe as they entered. Melding the thrust of the stage with the forest set by allowing a light layer of mulching to extend onto the thrust, the audience was able to accept the thrust as a natural extension of the forest, although the thrust was void of any set pieces.

The show opens with Gina cornering a Vietnam veteran in the woods trying to gain information about her father. Gina is a 17-year old half-Vietnamese girl adopted in infancy by a couple made rich by logging. Gina has become a piano prodigy touring the world, recording with a solo CD with Sony and accepted to Julliard on a full ride scholarship for the following year. Yet, Gina is prepared to give up music in order to follow Vietnamese tradition and “follow in the footsteps of her father”. In order to do this she must determine who her biological father is using her nymph abilities and speaking to the veterans who avoid human interaction behind the redwood curtain. I was not a huge fan of Rainbow Dickenson’s portrayal of Gina. Her character seemed to starkly change with each scene leading to a lack of character continuity throughout the show. Given Gina’s back story the character is extremely multifaceted and comprised of contrasting parts making it extremely difficult to play. Yet, the character which was presented showed the contrasting sides of Gina in isolation in each scene without allowing the multiple dimensions of the character to shine through making Gina feel flat and one dimensional. I see Gina as a Luna Lovegood type: intelligent, yet in a fog like mental state which believes in magical creatures regardless of her more practical side. This would have allowed for Gina to make her nymph and magic references without feeling contrived and given her more depth in her other scenes.

Alex Leydenfrost’s character of Lyman was aptly played as dejected and removed from society making him difficult to relate with through out the play. This made his final monologue that much more powerful as he tells Gina of his time in Vietnam and the men which he served with.  Lyman’s dog, Bitch, was represented via a 5 second sound clip which was run on loop for as long as barking was required. The extensive looping of the sound was distracting from Lyman’s performance as the sound was clearly repeated numerous times during a particularly long barking sequence, resulting in the barking becoming unbelievable and reminding the audience that they were not in the woods, rather, a theater in Chelsea.

Michelle Mountain’s portrayal of Gina’s aunt Geneva was the most natural and engaging with a consistent energy level throughout the show. Her presence in many of the scenes kept the pace of the show at a comfortable speed while allowing apt time for her character development. The strength in her character choices were apparent and each movement which she made came from a clear thought process in line with these choices.

Overall, the strongest aspect of the show was the set. Before the show began I turned to my sister (my companion for the evening) and told her that even if the actors never came on stage seeing the set was worth the 20 minute drive to Chelsea. Wilson’s story added to the beauty of the set and was entertaining to watch. Being unable to emotionally connect with two of the three characters for the majority of the show prevented the show from being able to move me emotionally. However, with a short run time (1.5 hours without an intermission), good pacing, and incredible set I was engaged and entertained the entire time.

Redwood Curtain runs through March 15 at the Purple Rose Theatre.

To those in society that exist within the heteronormative ideas of sex, Venus In Fur would be shocking, but to those that live within the world of BDSM, this play would seem tame. But for most people, no matter their standing, they would consider this play to be extremely well handled and entertaining. The performances, stage direction, lighting, and sound all come together to create an astounding artwork.

The first thing that must be complimented is the acting. Both Sebastian Gerstner and Maggie Meyer are commanding and captivating in their respective roles of Thomas and Vanda. Both play through the humorous, serious, and politically charged scenes as if the audience is just peeking into an extraordinary day of what is usually an ordinary life of the two characters. Special commendations must be given to Meyer as she transitions between her three “roles” effortlessly, showing a strong understanding of the play and its characters. It was simply hypnotizing watching her transform from her role of real-life Vanda, into the character Vanda, and finally into her last portrayal, which will not be spoiled here. Very rarely am I amazed, but Meyer’s performance was truly something to be amazed by.

But of course, with such great acting there must be an equally great director behind them. Watching this play, one can clearly see the bright light of Jennifer Graham’s directing shining through. To the audience, directing is usually the last thing that comes across their mind when watching a play that was this entertaining, but watching the two actors play through their parts, it was obvious that their acting only played homage to the director’s brilliance. From the subtle sound cues strewn throughout the piece, to the hidden metaphors and allusion, and to the nearly flawless stage direction, it would be an understatement to say that viewing another play by this director would be a pleasure.

The writing itself is equally quite astounding (as everything in this play is). At first I was concerned at a slight sexism that would run through the production, but the play tackles that issue later on as Vanda sees Thomas’ play as being sexist, thereby directly facing the issue of sexism and exposing it to the audience as an unacceptability. Meta-references like these continue throughout the entire play and it becomes a puzzle to be solved; resulting in a surprising, though perhaps not unseen ending. The only issue I might have with the writing is that it may be too “pedantic” is some aspects. Why “pedantic”? Because this is the term that is used by the play when Vanda playfully insults Thomas, maybe creating another meta-reference where the author understands that his writing may be too “pedantic” for the general audience.

Viewing this play was one of the best decisions that I have made recently and I would recommend it to all who can handle the steamy and sometimes politically charged scenes in this play. It is extremely funny when it needs to be (the entire audience was laughing uproariously at some parts) and poignantly serious when the time came. I truly felt as if I was just a fly sitting on the wall, rather than watching a play, which is a marvelous feat of acting and directing.

 

UMMA: Stop Making Sense; Constructs and Narratives, Real and Imagined

“We all know that Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth at least the truth that is given us to understand. The artist must know the manner whereby to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies.” ~Pablo Picasso

UMMA will be holding the three-part exhibition consisting of the three-part work Affecting the Audience by Anthony Discenza, Aurélien Froment, and Dora García. Each artist contributed one work of art—a blank screen which presents a textual evaluation of the audience in real-time (an exhibit I felt needed its own separate review, which can be found here), a dark room featuring an audio track of a series of google search results for the query “and the effect is…” read aloud, and an HD broadcast of a jellyfish floating around in a tank. All three pieces are particularly challenging because they call into question what an artist’s responsibility is towards their audience—they’re all designed to confuse and trick the viewer rather than present a coherent narrative.

I had the unique privilege to attend a post-exhibit discussion with three art and design school professors, Heidi Kumao, Matt Kenyon and Melanie Manos and SAC professor Terri Sarris. This discussion by artists who themselves have contributed to museum installations was particularly illuminating into the strengths of the exhibit and the strategies employed.

In order to “decode” this three part exhibition, a useful key is understanding the concept of an unreliable narrator—too often do we assume everything in a museum is objective, undeniably true. Unfortunately, this is never the case. The artist’s own life experiences, audience expectations for what art should be, and museum standards all limit what is allowed in a museum.

For example, one core assumption all 3 exhibits deconstruct is that a museum is a designated zone for “painted art”—when we go to museums, most of us expect to see lots of paintings and not much else. Anything that isn’t a painting is automatically a wildcard. But why? (I’m being rhetorical here, I can’t say I have a satisfying answer, rather I think this question is worth asking).

So I think to anyone who goes to check this difficult exhibit out, approach it a little differently than you would a standard set of paintings or photographs. See the exhibit as a series of questions about why museums are set up the way they are. Hence my opening quote—challenging or confusing pieces of art are often meant to force the audience to feel uncomfortable or unsatisfied, because this struggle or dissatisfaction forces the audience not only to reconsider their expectations, but to re-evaluate them.

What: Venus In Fur; a play written by David Ives

Who: Directed by Jennifer Graham, Staring Sebastian Gerstner and Maggie Meyer

When: from February 27 to April 6

Where: Performance Network Theater

 

Venus In Fur tells the story of  playwright/director Thomas in his search for an actress to play the role of Vanda in his stage adaption of the story Venus In Fur. Though the actress who comes in to audition seems completely wrong for the part, she shows a strong command for the material. The script reading and the real world begin to blur, though, as Vanda (the actress) takes control of the sado-masochistic role and creates a relationship of dominance and submission with the director.