February 7, 2012 - 2:30pm
Markopolous film collection screening gave new meaning to cinematic art
BY MATT EASTON
If the audience starts trickling out early, you know you’re watching an avant-garde film. This past Saturday, people coughed and shuffled in their seats before subtly (or un-subtly, like the individual who forced Robert Beavers, filmmaker and close-friend of Gregory J. Markopoulos, whose films were showing, to stand out of his seat so they could move past him toward the exit) sneaking out the back. Of the 40 or so people who began in Angell Auditorium A at 3 p.m., perhaps 30 remained by the end of the showings — most leaving during or right after “Twice a Man,” which one audience member described as, “challenging to watch, but in a good way.”
I will admit, at moments I considered slipping out. Luckily though, my New Year’s resolutions entailed “not judging” and “trying to see the beauty in everything,” so I stayed. This decision was one of the best I’ve made in a long time.
“Ming Green” was the first of the five films shown (all made by Markopoulos), and provided an introduction to his style — a style which is distinguished by overlapping frames and manipulated camera exposure. He did this by shooting a frame, mentally marking its location on the 100 feet of film reel and then scrolling back to that frame to overlap it with another image. Beavers described this technique as one that took “great improvisation, but also great precision,” and while I didn’t completely understand how it was done, it was fascinating to watch the results. In “Ming Green,” Markopoulos filmed shots of his apartment, “blinking” between different objects.
Next came the real challenge: “Twice a Man,” a “modernist reworking of the myth of Hippolytus, in which a chaste youth rejects the incestuous advances of his mother, Phaedre, and is saved from death by a caring physician.” The film was significantly longer than the others and followed an un-dramatic narrative, which made watching it a somewhat challenging experience. The first half gave me sweaty palms and stressed me out; the second had an almost calming effect. Was this intentional by Markopoulos? I have no idea, but looking back it seemed almost an essential experience to appreciate his work. I saw the next three films in a way I don’t feel would’ve been possible without toughing out “Twice a Man” (maybe increased commitment provides an increased reward?).
“Through a Lens Brightly: Mark Turbyfill” was the first film where I came to understand the distinct difference between a filmmaker like Markopoulos and one like Spielberg. Markopoulos was not making movies in the traditional sense. His work would equate more to moving paintings or visual symphonies. As soon as I dropped my misconceptions on what his art should be, I recognized what it was and how powerfully it was able to move me. “Through a Lens” was a film portrait of painter and dancer Mark Turbyfill, and the brilliance of the film was how Markopoulos layered or “blinked” Turbyfill’s paintings in a way to make them seem like they were dancing.
“Bliss” was my favorite film of the bunch, either because it honestly was the best or I had just began to appreciate the style. Markopoulos filmed the Church of St. John on the island of Hydra, and the greatest strength of this film is Markopoulos’s use of lighting. It was hypnotic. It moved me like a great song, and I still haven’t been able to shake the images of contrasting light and darkness. “Sorrows” left me with no distinct memories, but like all of the five films, it was intriguing.
Markopoulos wasn’t a director; he was a painter and a composer who gave me a new appreciation for what the medium of film could accomplish, without story, without actors — simply with images and an artist’s control over them.
