Years ago, during college, I worked at the campus bookstore. The building the bookstore was in was arranged so that the offices were up a flight of stairs above the sales floor, so when you went up there you could basically see everything going on down below.
So one day, I went up to the office area to drop off some papers or something, and was about to start down the stairs when I stopped dead in my tracks. There, down below - just for an instant - I was sure I saw myself - me - walking there among the stacks.
It was absolutely terrifying.
Now, of course, it turned out to be someone who simply looked like me. But more than this, there was a similarity in gait, in mannerisms, the way he held his head. For that instant, it was convincing. And that instant, consequently, was so unhinged that I remember the feeling of it to this day. Vain creatures though we are, I would venture to say that no human being would suffer well being suddenly confronted with their uncanny doppelganger.
This past weekend was a rather down one for me, and I found myself sticking close to home and doing bread-and-butter stuff like filing and laundry. I didn't go out carousing with friends or any of my normal activities. In other words, I was in a mood to be thoughtful, and I had time to spare.
And I found, for that time and place, perhaps the perfect movie.
It's an odd one. It was an independent film, made for just about $7000, and released back in 2004, and it is kinda science fiction. Only it isn't. And it's kinda like Memento, only it isn't. And sometimes the dialogue is convoluted and it's a bit hard to follow in places and that might make it hard to watch.
Only it isn't. I have now watched it six times, twice with the director's commentary. It holds up.
The film is called Primer. It is extroardinarly difficult to describe, because - despite what it seems to be about (some 'classic' science fiction themes, complete with an ambiguous gizmo that whirs and makes your ears bleed) it is actually an extended meditation on trust, and how you might maintain it (or lose it) when the person you are talking to is not, in fact, who you think they are (or, perhaps I should say, when you think they are).
You will be tempted at this point to Google it and find out what I mean without actually seeing it. My recommendation is, don't. Go to your local hip video shop and rent it and watch it. Twice.
Here's the thing - one of the really cool aspects of this film (as opposed to the slick Hollywood movies where every techno thing is explained and made safe by the dialogue) is that - perhaps - the characters have absolutely no idea what it is that they are dealing with. Part of the joy - the first time through, is trying, with them, to figure it out. The story unfolds with a naturalness and the right balance of keeping the viewer on-track mixed with enough confusion to keep things well beyond interesting the first time through. Then the pleasure (on subsequent viewings) is trying to figure out how you missed the clues that maybe - just maybe - some of the characters aren't so clueless after all.
For a low-budget, first-project film, this film completely exceeds expectations. The story is amazing, the characters are believable and well-acted, and the science is fiction, but its not mumbo-jumbo. You find yourself thinking - just for a minute (or 1,337 minutes, depending where you are) that it might actually work.
What's wrong with our hands?
[ The thing that scared me the most, that day in the bookstore, was the possibility of meeting someone - some me - that knew me completely, that was me completely, and yet I wouldn't know what he was thinking. I wouldn't know, moreover, how or why he was there. I was confronted with the possibility, just for an instant, that this other-that-was-me might know me (my trajectories, my motivations, my reasons) in that moment better than I knew myself. I was terrified at the possibility that I was living in his world, and no longer in mine. ]
Why won't our hands work like normal people?
Tighten the straps. There are always leaks. Every half-meter, everywhere. Everywhere.
What if it actually works?
Categories: film
2 comments:
I'm reminded of the time that I was absolutely certain, for a full three seconds or so, that an approaching stranger was going to walk right *through* me. Not under the influence of any mind-altering substance, my reaction-- jumping back and screaming, much to the consternation and fright of the poor passer-by-- was purely instinctual, was all the more intense becase of the recognition that the scenario itself was even possible in my head. As our mutual good friend M has told me, this momentary conviction speaks (spoke?) volumes about my self-regard.
One time I drove home from work at rush hour, arrived at my apartment, saw a car just like mine parked in the space where I usually park, and I thought, "Oh, I'm already here."
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