Echoes of Uncertainty in the Darkness: How Personal Cinema Expressions in “Seeing in the Dark” Program Permeates Society in Reverse
Translated by I-hsun CHEN
“It’s like I’ve reached the tunnel between life and death. I stop wandering, waiting for the world to throw me a curveball and crash me into the turbulence.“---Miaojin Qiu, Notes of a Crocodile.
In the “Seeing in the Dark” program, complex relationships of individuals, families, friends, and countries are intertwined together. It probes uncertainties of the future, the relationship between sex offenders and their victims, moral decisions of a sex offender’s family, plights of female alcoholics and their families, as well as how, despite deep in difficulties, people seek hope and understanding in the face of war and geopolitics. Works of personal cinema in this program aim to present these stories and emotions in a public narrative, demonstrating how they can be interpreted in such an intricate, indistinct state of being.
How did cinema become a catalyst for change in the public sphere? in Early Cinema, Late Cinema: Transformations of the Public Sphere, Miriam HANSEN explains how cinema experiences have shaped the connection between the public and the film. She stresses that cinema has the potential to push for societal change, as it gathers a variety of audiences and creates a collective experience. HANSEN further suggests that through constructing a specific imagination of spectating, Hollywood cinema has established an “ideal spectator” that, as Roland BARTHES describes, is completely relaxed, hypnotized, and unable to think.
The concept of “vernacular modernism” — namely, how cinema is connected with everyday life and how it serves as a platform for expression — is analyzed in depth in HANSEN’s article. HANSEN points out that the significance of cinema lies in its capacity to promote public engagement, culture representation, and societal change. Additionally, cinema can also shape public spheres, facilitating participation and conversation in a democratic society. Cinema today is resisting institutionalized imaginations and becoming more akin to an ideal public sphere, and it is from this perspective that we examine the varied topics of contemporary films. How does individuality extend to publicness? How does the obscure state of mind portrayed in these films permeate back into society?
Through its choice of films, “Seeing in the Dark” program provides the audience with a window of realism, allowing us to gaze directly at the pain and predicament of others. By seeing this, we further understand the solitude and tenacity of life. Lawrence CÔTÉ-COLLINS’ Billy presents us with a disturbing (or rather, unfamiliar) spectatorship. The protagonist (director) of the film combined different genres from the past to the present: surrealist, silent film, family film, self-documentary, diary movie, and even animation, completing a creative collage of both cinema history and the past experiences of the director, who was attacked by Billy. Through Billy’s family videos, selfies, unreleased footage that he directed, his stage performances, and his interviews, we see not only his violence tendency but also his life trajectory after being jailed for murder. As for the director herself, we can also observe how, after the incident, she goes from resorting to alcoholism to staying sober, returning to the society with deep reflections. Essentially, with an interlaced narrative and a bold crossover of film genres, a place for healing is established by both the victim and the offender.
The fiction film The Good Sister focuses on the protagonist’s profound bond with her older brother, as well as her own helplessness when faced with an aimless future. When her loving brother is accused as a sex offender, a series of changes ensue within her. She attempts to help and understand the perpetrator, and by acting as a nude model, she goes from being the observer to becoming the observed. As she pushes the limits of her body and mind, she even crosses a violent line approaching sexual assault during a date. Trying to stand with her brother and find her own voice, the protagonist’s body becomes a catalyst throughout the plot.
Myrid CARTEN, the director of A Want in Her, is demanded by her family to confront and care for her alcoholic mother. In reviewing her childhood, family videos, empty shots of her home, and phone recordings, she dissects the reason behind her mother’s alcoholism and the shamefulness that society inflicts on female alcoholics. At the same time, CARTEN also acknowledges that her mother’s absence is what drove her to leave her native country. Such a family story has no ending: what it offers is the repeated sight of the same struggles, from which one remains unable to detach. Thus, an ever-changing dilemma is formed between two sentiments: the reluctance to leave, and the desire to protect oneself –– a situation that everyone has experienced in their own families. On a similar note, We Are Inside tells the story of Farah KASSEM, the director, who goes back home to see her father after having left Lebanon for years. Given the religion- and geography-based political system in Lebanon, she decides to record the political unrest and democratic efforts in her home country. Through witty conversations between KASSEM and her father, this seemingly ordinary documentary shows how she sees beyond their generational differences and seeks for a common ground. While they may hold different opinions regarding politics, they actually share similar values deep inside.
Lastly, My Dear Théo is the documentary of the director Alisa KOVALENKO. It tells the story of how she departed from her hometown alone, leaving her three-year-old child behind, and documented the Russia-Ukraine war. Her film features military convoys, gunsmoke, bombings, marches, and the strong yearning for her own child. She filmed a lot of her fellow soldiers, and yet, when we do see her on the screen, she is usually completely by herself –– either having a video call with her child, or silently staring at his images that her family sent. In her narration, she expresses doubts and struggles about her identity and choices, in which she is both alone and not alone. Stuck within this ambiguous state, she stands at the border between life and death with her camera, striving to sound out the inner echoes of a Ukranian mother.
Overall, the program is not only a window to the world, but also a mirror in the dark. Inside of it, we hear people calling for hope, attempting to catch fragments of their own identities. These people all have their own hardships: about themselves, about their families, or about their country and people. The films featured in this program explore the possibilities of documentaries and fiction films, with self-documenting taking up a major proportion. These directors regard cinema as an extension of their selves, bringing deeply personal issues into the public view. As the audience, we are thus encouraged to consider the differences of others’ experiences, and perhaps, in doing this, we can finally “see” ourselves through the dark.
Yung-Lin Wang
A PhD candidate in Cinemas Studies and lecturer at the University of Toronto, who lives and works in Taiwan and Canada. Her area of expertise focuses on experimental cinema, contemporary gallery-based moving images, and East Asian diary filmmaking.
