Films/DVD Asylum

Posted by Harmonia (A) on February 07, 2008 at 23:06:21

In Reply to: RE: You had Brakhage for a teacher?! LUCKY guy. Netflix has some of his posted by tinear on February 07, 2008 at 04:48:52

Or gal. Lady. Old broad. Whatever. ;-)

Yes, my film history professor at the School of the Art Institue of Chicago was Stan Brakhage. (How nice someone here recognizes his name.)

His students were the beneficiaries of one of the most original film minds of the century, alas, some of it not fully appreciated by me at the time. I was extraordinarily lucky to have had him for a teacher (for two years in the mid seventies).

I used to wonder how Brakhage The Avante Garde Legend came to be at the Art Institute, if only to teach one day a week (he didn't live in the Windy City). Much later in life I realized that Brakhage was probably in desperate need of funds and glad to have the gig. He was also a "name" to add to the 'tute's already illustrious faculty.

I was initially a little wary of this semi-famous, intellectual personage who had been written up in Art In America and interviewed in the Village Voice. From afar, Brakhage seemed to be a brash, opinionated iconoclast. But the man himself dispelled all such apprehensions. Not that he was warm and cuddly (he was not). He was highly opinionated and he was indeed an iconoclast. But more importantly, he was passionate and articulate. And generous. And witty. And extraordinarily bright.

Brakhage proved to be a marvelous and enthusiastic pedagogue. He loved movies, and he conveyed this love for film every Monday at 11am in the Museum Auditorium. Stan didn't suffer fools gladly but he handled his students generally with patience and humor - the class format allowed him to interact with students quite gently. He could be provocative, he could get exasperated, but he was never rude. As I recall, Stan lectured without notes and was open to questions, during or after class. Discussion was often necessarily short - too much gab cut into movie time. But what there was was likely to be lively. Stan Brakhage loved to talk. I wished I'd recorded it all.

Brakhage had a wide knowledge of the visual arts, history and literature. He made connections between life and culture and film and art that seemed to us both profound and immediate. And he also showed us his own films, including works in progress.

The Art Institute's grading system was pass/fail at the time - if you came through the door most Mondays (and why woudn't you?) Stan passed you, no written papers required. (He had no time or inclination then to grade term papers. I don't know what his class routine was in latter years.) You showed up, you watched great movies for 2+ hours, you listened to Stan and engaged in discussion when requested. His only other stipulation was that no student could sit in the back of the auditorium - he commanded us to sit up close to the screen or (at minimum) in the middle rows of seats, so that "the entire movie screen fills your frame of vision".

"Don't hide in the back, don't try to be objective," he would bark at us. Stan wanted us within eyeshot and fully engaged. Getting us closer to the screen was his way of shaking up our normal viewing habits, in hopes of awakening our minds to new ways of looking at movies, so that we might - eventually - literally "see the light". He wanted to knock the cliches out of our heads. He wanted us to see what was there, not what we expected to see.

Stan taught us not only about the language and grammar of narrative cinema. He also opened our eyes to the idea of film as a medium in and of itself, a medium full of possibilities that could be manipulated for self expression just like paint or clay or paper or charcoal. He used to say most movies (Hollywood entertainment to classics to art films) were novels, but that his own films were poems.

Brakhage was interested in exploring the subjective, the metaphorical, the non-literal. He saw film stock the way a painter sees a blank canvas, as an open ended medium. Stan's goal was to get the non-representational on film - to express his inner life, to imprint the vision of his imagination and his subconscious onto the frame.

Film is unique in that, unlike a canvas, it can show movement, but it can be perceived only when light passes through it. Light is essential to vision and perception, so examining the very nature and meaning of "vision" was a key aspect of Brakhage's work, an exploration Stan saw not only as intrinsic to himself as an artist but also as deeply elemental to us all.

Although he was dismissive of what he called "filmed plays", Brakhage wasn't opposed in the least to more conventional, narrative films, even popular ones. In fact he showed us movies of many genres, countries and eras, all the great classics from silents to the latest works of the avante garde (it was in Stan's class that I first saw Kenneth Anger's "Scorpio Rising" and Keaton's "Sherlock Junior"). His highest regard, naturally enough, was reserved for films he felt achieved a strong and deeply felt personal vision.

But I know now what I only suspected then, that Brakhage was perpetually frustrated at the constant struggle to both earn a living and to get his work seen. Even experimental filmmakers crave some kind of audience, albeit a small one. No one wants to create in a vacuum. Alas, the digital/DVD age came a little too late for him.

Brakhage didn't always use a camera to create his films. A favorite method was to use various media to draw, scratch and paint directly into the film emulsion itself, frame by painstakingly slow frame (the reason why so many of these films are shorts). Brakhage wasn't the first artist to use this technique but he certainly took it farther and to greater effect than anyone else. Employing this technique through the years often involved exposure to toxic chemicals, substances that probably led to the cancer which ended his life. It's a sobering realization that during those exciting days when Stan was showing us his films in progress he was simultaneously hastening his own death.

It seemed like just as esteem and greater recognition finally started to come his way, Brakhage was diagnosed with cancer. He had for some years established himself as professor of film studies at University of Colorado. He apparently found happiness in his second marriage. I doubt if he was content with his designation as "the grand old man of the avant garde" - he was entirely too restless and intelligent for that. I do know that he worked as hard as he could, for as long as he was physically able.

The Criterion DVD set is a wonderful tribute to Stan and an excellent introduction to his films. I like to think that these DVDs have brought him the new audience he longed for in life - they've certainly preserved much of his work, saving it from obscurity in dusty academe. If you're tempted, I have no hesitation in saying Brakhage is probably not for everyone. The unitiated should sample his works in small doses. But all serious students of film should give him a look at least once in their lives. You may be amazed. Or perplexed. But you will not be indifferent.

It's ironic to me that Brakhage's legacy is most apparent in commercial applications - many of his experimental techniques have become commonplace in music videos and TV commercials. Not surprisingly, he has been highly influential among animators. Brakhage's most obvious popular film descendant is David Lynch, although you can observe traces of his influence every now and then in main stream filmmakers as disparate as Martin Scorsese, David Fincher and Oliver Stone.

Stan Brakhage was a personal hero of mine. He changed the way I see and feel about movies. He wasn't the first guide I had into the world of film art, but he was by far the most important. I can't always follow him into that heady realm where much of his best work resides. But I know I see far more in life and in movies for having been taught by him.

I'm not ashamed that the afternoon I heard on NPR that Stan Brakhage had passed away, I pulled the car over and bawled like a baby.

That's probably much more than you ever wanted to know about Stan Brakhage.

Vidas Secas...yes, I saw that quite some time ago, as part of a South American restrospective...I remember it reminded me quite a bit of
the Italian neo-realists...and I will never forget the dog. The circumstances of that part of Brazil, which prior o seeing the movie I had no idea existed, came as quite a surprise - if this is on DVD I'll have to revisit it.

Edits: 02/07/08