Outer Space (1999) is a surreal and avant-garde experimental film that combines elements of psychological horror and dark imagery. The film takes place in outer space and explores themes of obscurity and reappropriation through the use of archive footage and surreal visuals.
Alone. Life Wastes Andy Hardy is an avant-garde short film that combines collage and reappropriated images to explore the relationship between a mother and son. Through a mix of found footage and independent filmmaking, the movie creates a unique and experimental narrative. It also features a film-within-a-film concept, adding an additional layer of intrigue to the story.
24 Hour Psycho is the title of an art installation created by artist Douglas Gordon in 1993. The work consists entirely of an appropriation of Alfred Hitchcock's 1960 Psycho slowed down to approximately two frames a second, rather than the usual 24. As a result it lasts for exactly 24 hours, rather than the original 109 minutes. The film was an important work in Gordon's early career, and is said to introduce themes common to his work, such as "recognition and repetition, time and memory, complicity and duplicity, authorship and authenticity, darkness and light."
Starting with a piece of vintage porn, filmmaker Naomi Uman painstakingly removed each female figure from the footage using nail polish remover, leaving a striking absence where there's usually a fleshy presence. Uman's celebrated film is a smart retort to pornography's obsessive gaze at the female body.
The Clock is a documentary film that delves into the fascinating history and significance of clocks. It explores how clocks have shaped human evolution, culture, and society. Through interviews with experts and scholars, the film unravels the complex relationship between timekeeping and human existence. With a captivating blend of reappropriated images, experimental filmmaking techniques, and slow-TV aesthetics, The Clock offers a unique perspective on the role of clocks in our lives.
Arnold's source material is a piece of footage from the 1950s, eighteen seconds long and very typical for the period. A quiet take: A living room, a woman in an armchair. Her husband opens the door, kisses her, then moves out of the picture accompanied by a camera pan, his wife follows after him. In Arnold's film the sequence takes 16 minutes. Cadre by cadre, it becomes an exciting tango of movements. But Pièce Touchée is more than just a matter of forms; The reflections, distortions and delays it displays challenge cinema's stable system of space and time.
Cleverly conceived and artfully edited, Christian Marclay's 7 1/2-minute video, Telephones, comprises a succession of brief film clips that creates a humorous narrative of its own in which the characters, in progression, dial, hear the phone ring, pick it up, converse, react, say goodbye and hang up. In doing so, they express a multitude of emotions--surprise, desire, anger, disbelief, excitement, boredom--ultimately leaving the impression that they are all part of one big conversation.
This one is a collage of Hollywood melodramas of the 1950s and 1960s, filmed directly from the television set. The constantly recurring motifs of suspense and clichés of plot make it possible to move seamlessly among scenes from different films with different protagonists: uneasy sleep, getting up, listening at the door, turning on the lights, being startled, etc. In the montage, the movements and gestures of the actresses – stars like Lana Turner, Tippi Hedren, and Grace Kelly– seem choreographed and planned for each other. The soundtrack supports this effect with connecting passages of sound that imitate the stereotypes of the genre. The treatment concentrates the dramatic shift from the familiar to the eerie and shows how women become the victims of the voyeuristic glance of film.
With MADE TO BE DESTROYED, Christian Marclay edits together a multitude of film clips in which artworks are destroyed. The minutia of the preliminary research and ensuing editing highlights a series of narrative and cultural patterns whereby art is the victim of violence. Whether sprayed (Batman, 1989), burnt (Equilibrium, 2002) or smashed (Le sang d’un poète, 1932 The Naked Gun, 1988), artworks are destroyed in moments that express rage against the self and others, the pain of loss, rebellion against a state or political power, or simply the perfect foil for a slapstick mishap.
These six essays on film/image history reconstruct cinema history by 're-imagining' its origins, and its poetries, and use historical films themselves (as 'text') to provide the meanings of their creations. Together, these film essays comprise a critical/structural investigation of silent cinema ending with Segei Eisenstein's works (for Stalin) - from Lumiere and Melies through surrealism and horros, to montage and propaganda, we 're-invent' epochs in cinema that became its language and culture.
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