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Song and Solitude
(Nathaniel Dorsky, 2006)
Like a city symphony film viewed under a microscope, Nathaniel Dorsky’s
rapturous non-narrative work Song and
Solitude abstracts the everyday in revelatory ways. An exercise in subtle
cinematography that doesn’t have to serve any sort of commercial or narrative
purpose, the short uses close observation of natural light to reveal a plethora
of marvels that could have come from our own humdrum environs. Whether showing
clouds reflected in a puddle or using disorienting close-ups to highlight the
textures of objects such as wool sweaters or furniture, this silent, homemade
film finds a level of splendor rarely seen in even the most elaborate
productions. Throughout the twenty-minute run time, Dorsky points his camera
skyward and toward the ground, into bright light and into deep darkness, using
angles that vary from broad landscape shots to close-ups so close that the
object being filmed is indiscernible. More often than not, he shoots objects
that are not obviously pretty, making a concerted effort to show us something we
haven’t seen before in the spaces we’ve always inhabited.
The speed of the editing contributes to the exhilaration here. Dorsky holds each
shot for a brief amount of time, usually about ten seconds or less, creating a
certain level of anticipation about what will be seen next. He never lingers
longer than is necessary to observe some small miracle of shifting light, such
as when he highlights the little spectacle that occurs as the sunlight changes
during an extreme close-up of a plain concrete wall. The telltale texture of
that wall is recognizable, but the proximity to it is completely defamiliarizing.
Throughout Solitude, Dorsky takes
this approach. Peoples’ faces are obscured in shadows, passing cars are seen
only via a window’s reflection, gently swaying grass is blown up to the entire
screen’s height. Some of these pictures become are optical illusions, of sorts,
in that it’s often not immediately apparent what a given subject might be.
That’s not to say that the film relies upon this sort of trickery, however. It’s
always immediately apparent what wondrous light effect Dorsky is asking us to
observe, even if we’re not certain what the object that is light might be.
Words don’t do it justice.
86
Jeremy Heilman
01.06.07 |
