Maximilien Luc Proctor
Filmmaker + Critic
|Gregory J. Markopoulos
|Hours for Jerome I & II
|Twin Peaks the Return
|Five Year Diary
|Anne Charlotte Robertson
|L'eau de la Seine
|Meshes of the Afternoon
|Maya Deren, Alexander Hackenschmied
A film which reminds us of the power of the image, the fullness of an empty frame, and the gift of presence.
Hours for Jerome I & II
A lexicon of avant-garde film grammar, a book of visual poetry reminding us of what is possible and how the world works. In an ideal world, it can be seen alongside its partner film, In the Stone House by Jerome Hiler.
Twin Peaks the Return
A work precisely attuned to the nowness of the moment in which it was released, reacting to and against the demands, constraints, and expectations of long-form narrative drama storytelling. A moment’s meditation in a world of constant storming chaos.
In a mere six minutes we travel through life, purgatory, hell, heaven, various film stocks, and a condensed showcase of the possibilities offered by montage.
Five Year Diary
The most incredible record of an individual's life ever committed to film.
Though I have not yet had the opportunity to see the entirety of the film, it's enough that it exists.
"Following three flashes of the title card, ‘L’HOMME ATLANTIQUE’, we dive into darkness and Duras’s self-reflexive intentions are immediately apparent: “You will not look at the camera. Except when you are told to. You will forget. You will forget. You will forget that this is you. I believe it is possible. You will also forget the camera. But above all, you will forget that this is you. You. Yes, I believe it is possible.” In her repetitions, these possibilities seem to develop into incantations, spells cast in the dark. Despite the absence of photographic images on the ‘empty’ screen, there is a continuous momentum lent to the unoccupied space by the scratches on the celluloid. Empty space comes to life. “A vast emptiness.” After a minute and a half, the darkness gives way to a man in profile, angled away from us, looking out the window into the ultramarine of nightfall. He turns slightly toward us, but his gaze falls elsewhere."
From my article for photogénie - https://photogenie.be/the-blank-screen-a-possible-book/
A film which began by accident and develops its own rules as it goes along.
L'eau de la Seine
"Without warning, a brisk flurry of pulsing forward zooms turn light reflected on lapping water into violent streaks of explosive orange. When a human figure appears (Gaël Badaud), he smokes casually as the visuals continue to swirl around him with hectic persistence. Although the soundtrack is completely silent, there is noise enough in the image. Teo Hernández seems to observe and manipulate the surface of water in every conceivable way, hammering at it with the zoom lens lever, swinging the camera as if in a balletic trance, observing from a distance and in extreme close-up so as to capture individual flecks of light, even rapidly cutting between fleeting glimpses of the water’s surface from a (nearly) static viewpoint, animating it from cuts alone."
From my article on Hernandez, for MUBI Notebook - https://mubi.com/notebook/posts/teo-hernandez-permanent-movement