Notes on Films by Nathaniel Dorsky and Jerome Hiler (1964-2023) - 2/5
On the second program from a screening series of the early cinema from Nathaniel Dorsky and Jerome Hiler.
Program 2:
A program about looking back. Wistful. Ended with Song and Solitude, which is about death, or more accurately the last moments of life. Was preceded by Margaret Rorison’s ominous vindmøller, a black and white short capturing windmills. They spin in multi-exposure. Some of the windmills are viewed in profile, so the frame intermittently cut by a huge pin-shape. I think there was a soundtrack, but I don’t remember. I think the preceding shorts were noticeably weaker than the Dorsky/Hiler films (I only loved the last one), but they set the mood well.
In the Stone House (Jerome Hiler, 2012):
Hiler re-editing footage from his and Dorsky’s time in a stone house in New Jersey. General trajectory is from cold to warm. This film follows the seasons, but it also captures the life altering nature of love. Includes both black and white and color film. Less superimpositions than Words of Mercury, but because Hiler does all of that in-camera, it’s understandable given the huge stretch of time covered. Opens on desolate cold landscapes. Eventually, we get to the house. We see Dorsky bringing in firewood. Thought of Davies again in how Hiler explores the house. Camera movement turns everyday moments into transcendence. In one instance, Hiler points the camera at icicles hanging from the roof. The sunlight reflecting off of them becomes something like handscratches on the film. Another beautiful instance observes bands of light on a curtain swaying in the breeze.
A few repeated images. There are lots of snakes. Once again, we have neon signs. The repeated shots of people are bracing compared to the surrounding movement. The love is all-consuming. Dorsky appears again taking acid. He’s lying on the ground with his torso slightly showing. Superimposed over him are shots of a frog in an impossibly verdant backdrop. The colors are so beautifully saturated. Lots of favorite moments in these programs, but this erotic, intimate moment is one of them. Another moment: Dorsky and co shooting outside with strips of film over their eyes. This eventually leads to the film stopping at a full solar eclipse. At another point, Dorsky and a woman are at an overlook staring out at a body of water. They’re holding a blue disc. The camera zooms in on the disc and suddenly, we see a classical statue.
Classicism/romanticism recurs. We see stained glass patterns in this film. They’re a flower shape, the blue is clearly a color motif. Three of them gradually appear on the frame. Blue is also part of a recurring image of a spinning vinyl. The spinning disk filling the screen with undulating blues and blacks. A shot repeated multiple times of Dorsky drinking something out of a spoon also has a blue container. It looks like bubbles, but I trust that’s not what it is.
Ends with a sign that says PRAY FOR PEACE. There’s also a shot of their cat peering out from behind some plants.
These notes make the film sound like home video, and that quality is sort of there, but Hiler’s films have such a foreign perspective to them. Partially because of their constantly defamiliarizing motion/superimpositions, and their musical construction, they don’t have a modular quality that some of the Dorsky’s have. Dorsky is so first-person. His later films especially struck me as slower, and with the constant changes in the camera, his presence is always felt. In The Stone House, along with the other Hilers using this footage, clearly play to me as memory pieces. Some of the best ever.
17 Reasons Why (Nathaniel Dorsky, 1987):
Perhaps taking a note from Hiler, 17 Reasons Why features segments (I assumed there were 17, but I stopped counting) all ending with a fade to black. It’s also the one that most resembles Hiler’s kineticism. The last segment has a storefront called 17 Reasons Why.
I really loved this one despite not remembering too much of it. That’s because I found it physically confrontational. I’m a complete newcomer to experimental film, and have only seen a few multichannel works (mostly some great Sky Hopinka films that played at the Frye earlier this year), but this was something entirely different. The 16mm film was constructed using two strips of 8mm film. Onscreen, it looked like four quadrants. At times, it looks like all of the quadrants are all moving in different directions. I honestly could barely tell you what was even onscreen because I was so over-sensitized. From what I could discern, they were scenes from San Francisco. There were definitely more neon signs. Most interesting, sometimes Dorsky would dye the entire screen, coloring all four quadrants. I’d really need to see it again to say anything more intelligible. As is, its resonances between the four frames on the level of color, movement, rhythm, and content is staggering. It does all of this without sacrificing Dorsky’s first person intimacy.
Song and Solitude (Nathaniel Dorsky, 2006):
Made in 2006 while Dorsky was showing his footage to a friend in her last year of life. Notably slower, magisterial rhythms. Less racking focus and changes of exposure as well. Instead, this film favors looking into the beauty of the unknown. Most shots are out of focus or underexposed. It’s not a surprise that Dorsky loves chiaroscuro. The most striking example of Dorky’s cinema turning objects into pure light. As the frame changes, my eyes registered pattern, texture, and color before they were able to actually discern what was in the frame.
Features numerous defamiliarized shots of humans. A few show figures moving around, one of whom is wearing a burnt orange top that becomes the subject of the image. A breathtaking shot is taken from underneath some white flowers has construction workers walking down the street in the bottom right corner of the frame. White flowers show up near the end of the film (maybe the final shot but I’m not sure). Clouds show up in a lot of Dorsky’s films and in this one, we see them through a reflection of water. My favorite shot is one of some hanging beads at a market. As people walk past the back of the frame, the cover a light source that’s hitting the beads, so as the shot continues, the beads are gracefully, rhythmically lit and unlit. Between the relative restraint and confusion combined with the overwhelming beauty, one of the most moving films I’ve ever seen about the transience of life.