Good Film Hunting

With six Harvard students included in the competition, the 33 films presented at the New England Film and Video Festival provided us with glimpses into the struggles of independent filmmakers.

Gene Kelly once said, "There are no auteurs in musical pictures. It's impossible." He was referring to Singing in the Rain, a film that satirizes Hollywood while at the same time celebrating its excesses. Lavish sets, elaborate dance routines, thousands of costumes, hundreds of performers, whimsy and drama all in a extravagant package bursting with talented collaborators and tied off with a nice satiny bow. This is big-budget, Hollywood style filmmaking-a way of making movies that has become de rigeur since World War II. Kelly was not only talking about a single movie, he was anticipating a half-century of cinema.

So is there room in modern cinema for individual vision and talent? Can a film ever be a wholly personal project? Not within this paradigm. Even if one looks at the films of the "auteurs" of the last century, one will find collaboration as a foundational ingredient. Fellini, Bergman, Hitchcock, Scorsese, etc.: all have been able to create collaborations between artists of singular vision (What would Fellini be without Giulietta Masina? What would Scorsese be without the great screenplays of Schrader and Pileggi?) The genius of these directors comes from their powers of orchestration and coordination. In general, films are mass conglomerations of talent and effort; cast and crew combine to produce a finished product under the direction of a guiding force.

Two weeks ago, the New England Film and Video Festival presented a window into another world of cinema. Self-described as promoting "the Spirit of Independents", this festival ran from March 27 to April 2, screening at the Coolidge Corner Cinema and the Museum of Fine Arts. Thirty three films were showcased, and each differed radically from the others: there was animation and live action; films made by 20-year-olds and films made by 50-year-olds; comedy, drama, and documentary; 3 minute films and 30 minute films. Some were technically slick and others were strikingly raw. Yet each presented a uniquely personal perspective.

This is the vision of independent cinema that was presented. Festival director Devon Damonte noted, "'Independent' is a funny word, and one that is often manipulated and over-used. We see independent film as more free from commercial pressures. These filmmakers are not making films to get rich, they are making them because they have be made. They come from the heart as personal visions".

The festival screened 33 of these visions, selected from a field of 230 entries. Six were made by Harvard folks: Vasiliki Katsarou won a merit award for Fruitlands 1843; three won honorable mentions: Ana Miljacki [first year Ph.D. student of Architectural History and Theory]'s Taming of a Pupil, A Dream; Anne Steuernagel [Program Coordinator of of the Music Dept.]'s The Field Far Away, and Rosylyn Rhee '99/00's Oma Rhee. Ellie Lee ', who has TFed several film classes, won The Most Promising Filmmaker award for her Dog Days. And Look Back, Don't Look Back by Justin Rice '99 and Randy Bell '00, won Best of Festival, only the 5th student film in the Festival's 25 year history to win the award. Look Back, Don't Look Back is an adventure caught on film: Rice and Bell turn the camera on themselves as they set out on a quest to interview Bob Dylan. Even more than Dylan, the hero at the center of the film is D.A. Pennebaker. Pennebaker made "Don't Look Back", the 1965 documentary that captured Dylan on tour and at the same time spawned the genre of cinema verit. This film, like the best cinema verit, makes the audience conscious of the filmmaking process itself through the conspicuous invisibility of standard filmmaking conventions: the camera just happens to be there, but everything that takes place wouldn't happen without its presence. It is a meditation on the nature of charisma, the nature of the camera, and the link between the two.

And of course, at the center of Look Back, Don't Look Back are the two filmmakers. The camera was reflexive; the creators became characters. The film is also about what it is an example of: commitment to personal vision. "Independent films are personal stories, built on initiative and obsessive drive," Rice said. "It's worth it only if you feel close to the material."

Rosylyn Rhee's Oma Rhee also is emblematic of the personal vision that one could find at the Festival. Originally made for VES 150, Rhee's film is a reflection on her own childhood, and the relationship between her, her sisters and their mother (Oma of the title) who committed suicide before Rhee was 6. The film develops like a private archaeological

al discovery and reflection. Duke Ellington once said that he knows his art has touched someone if they sigh as a piece ends. As Rhee's film cut to the credits, I heard an entire cinema exhale.

Rhee remarked that this was exactly the type of movie that could not be made under normal collaborative conditions. "I'm a control freak," she said, "It's the nature of how I work. But especially with this film, I found myself in situations where I couldn't take anyone in with me. I had to do very personal interviews with my sisters. I had to do all the shooting and all the sound on my own. Because it was so personal, I had to do it myself."

This is precisely the type of film one would find at this festival that simply could not be found anywhere else. Daniel Sousa's Minotaur (one of 9 RISD-affiliated entries) was an absolutely staggering 9-minute animation that took almost three years to complete. Joe Gibbon's Multiple Barbie began as a one-joke film of a man psychoanalyzing a schizophrenic Barbie-doll and then slowly morphed into a profound exploration of the director's own psychoses. Wendy MacNeil and Alice Wingwall gave us their Miss Blindsight: The Wingwall Auditions, a complex documentary about an artist who has lost her sight. These films are just a small sampling of the independent vision that was omnipresent at this festival. Each film felt like a child, like a living form that had been nurtured with love and dedication. These kids also probably drove their parents up the wall and kept them up nights. Wingwall, the blind artist, commented that the festival was a display of "tricky tales, tortured love, and risk-taking."

I saw 14 of these 33 films.. I found myself utterly unable to dislike any of them. True, some moved me more than others, but I felt that actually disliking one of these films would have bordered on cruelty. Don't think that I have a problem with being harsh. It's just that when I watch a Hollywood movie, I feel that I can hate it without hurting any particular person. Filmmaking is such a labor intensive artform that a film doesn't get a second chance to be made. Watching these films was like reading the filmmakers' diaries; I could not separate the product from the agent behind it.

These films did not emerge whole from the minds of their creators alone. Like all films, these do depend on a network of support. "Film is an artform that demands a network, a support system," notes Rice. "You need money, equipment, people to show the work to. The artform that is closest to film is architecture. It's a massive undertaking." Organizations like the Boston Film/Video Foundation (which produces the festival) provide a network of material resources that support independent projects. But, as Rice points out, film demands an audience like no other artform. It is hard to find and support independent cinema. Most likely, you will never have the opportunity to see any of this festival's films ever again [see below for an exception]. That's part of what makes independent cinema so special, and worth seeking out. Seeing an independent film is not an average moviegoing experience: you can catch a fleeting glimpse into a separate, private world.

Oma Rhee will be screened on May 5 at 5:00 at the Harvard Film Archive.