Upstream Colour (12A.)
Directed by Shane Carruth.
Starring Amy Seimetz, Shane Carruth, Andrew Sensenig, Thiago Martins, Cathy Carruth and Meredith Burke. 96 mins
If Shane Carruth were the show runner on Sherlock it would be Watson taking the plunge from a high building and nobody would be on tenterhooks speculating on how he would be resurrected for the third series. Carruth is a proper auteur – he writes, directs, stars, co-edits, does the theme tune - and he doesn’t much hold with exposition, explanation or quaint narrative notions of having a slow-on-the-uptake character whose sole purpose is to have the plot explained to them for the benefit of the wider audience. Once the lights go down on a Carruth film, you’re on your own and your chances of making it through on the first attempt are, frankly, slim.
In his previous film, Primer, he blinded audiences with science. Scientists in a world of garages and anonymous out of-town industrials units stumble on a form of time travel. Being scientists they address each other in the rarefied language of quantum mechanics. You don’t understand it but accept its validity because its science and you trust that they know what they are talking about. In Donald’s Rumsfeld’s terms, these are known unknowns. The first time round it loses you completely but watch again, closely primed for what to look out for and you may pick up a general comprehension.
This new piece is an entirely different challenge. This time his work is dealing with poetic notions of metaphysics and the second viewing may not help much. It begins with a crime: a man experimenting with lice and then forcibly inserting them into a female victim (Seimetz) which gives him hypnotic control over her. From there it spins away wildly to take in a man (Carruth) who is drawn to her and a pig farmer with an obsession with recording sound. The official tag line says that the couple are “drawn to together, entangled in the lifecycle of an ageless organism,” which doesn’t begin to cover it, yet still feels like a spoiler.
In as much as it resembles any other films ever made, you could say it was a cross between early body horror Cronenberg and late free form Malick. A lot of the film is taken up with people walking around in a daze and dreamily running their hands across various surfaces to appraise their texture, all captured by a restless camera that’s too enthralled by the beauty of it all to stop still for a moment. The visual similarities to Malick’s fatuous To The Wonder are coincidental (this was filmed earlier) but unfortunate. It puts you on your guard; you want to be swept away by its wonders and accept that its mysteries are down to you being given fragmentary access to its story. But you are also wary of being taken in by a piece of airy fairy flim flam.
Directed by Shane Carruth.
Starring Amy Seimetz, Shane Carruth, Andrew Sensenig, Thiago Martins, Cathy Carruth and Meredith Burke. 96 mins
If Shane Carruth were the show runner on Sherlock it would be Watson taking the plunge from a high building and nobody would be on tenterhooks speculating on how he would be resurrected for the third series. Carruth is a proper auteur – he writes, directs, stars, co-edits, does the theme tune - and he doesn’t much hold with exposition, explanation or quaint narrative notions of having a slow-on-the-uptake character whose sole purpose is to have the plot explained to them for the benefit of the wider audience. Once the lights go down on a Carruth film, you’re on your own and your chances of making it through on the first attempt are, frankly, slim.
In his previous film, Primer, he blinded audiences with science. Scientists in a world of garages and anonymous out of-town industrials units stumble on a form of time travel. Being scientists they address each other in the rarefied language of quantum mechanics. You don’t understand it but accept its validity because its science and you trust that they know what they are talking about. In Donald’s Rumsfeld’s terms, these are known unknowns. The first time round it loses you completely but watch again, closely primed for what to look out for and you may pick up a general comprehension.
This new piece is an entirely different challenge. This time his work is dealing with poetic notions of metaphysics and the second viewing may not help much. It begins with a crime: a man experimenting with lice and then forcibly inserting them into a female victim (Seimetz) which gives him hypnotic control over her. From there it spins away wildly to take in a man (Carruth) who is drawn to her and a pig farmer with an obsession with recording sound. The official tag line says that the couple are “drawn to together, entangled in the lifecycle of an ageless organism,” which doesn’t begin to cover it, yet still feels like a spoiler.
In as much as it resembles any other films ever made, you could say it was a cross between early body horror Cronenberg and late free form Malick. A lot of the film is taken up with people walking around in a daze and dreamily running their hands across various surfaces to appraise their texture, all captured by a restless camera that’s too enthralled by the beauty of it all to stop still for a moment. The visual similarities to Malick’s fatuous To The Wonder are coincidental (this was filmed earlier) but unfortunate. It puts you on your guard; you want to be swept away by its wonders and accept that its mysteries are down to you being given fragmentary access to its story. But you are also wary of being taken in by a piece of airy fairy flim flam.
