New York Non-Fiction
Friday, July 16, 2004
8:30 - Live music by Jeremy James
9:00 - Slices of the city
On the roof of The Old American Can Factory
232 Third Street, in the Gowanus Section of Park Slope, Brooklyn.
In the event of rain the show will be indoors at the same location.
New York Non-Fiction
Sometimes we sit on the roof, squinting through the streetlights at the moon, straining to hear the reassuring sound of cars whooshing like waves, and we wonder if we should be showing movies up here. We let our eyes adjust and can discern Saturn from a cell-phone satellite. We can see curtains blowing and no one, clearly, behind them. A police car glides by so stealthy and indifferent it's like a robot on rails. A garbage truck so clumsy it seems to pre-date man, like a breathy, putrid dinosaur. On this summer night, the city is so still it seems abandoned by mankind.
Sitting here on this shimmering silver surface, maybe we should not make ripples.
But always in New York, ripples are being made. They may come from under the surface, like a dance on a subway or drawings from a squatter in the East Village, but the stirrings are there. Maybe someone has been steadily making ripples for years, like a man hand-rolling noodles in Chinatown or a delivery man from Mexico working two parallel jobs, but we overlooked them. (Until a foreign friend brings us to that noodle shop, at least.) There are wrinkles we look past on purpose: an old man proudly wearing his new hairpiece; a young man playing with himself; petty criminals we don't want to bother stopping. And maybe we missed the ripples for the waves, watching the ticker tape scatter but unable to presage disaster, or blinking at the flashing lights in Times Square but missing the dire message. Sitting up here on the roof, all seems calm, but the city below is still boiling.
Tonight's filmmakers have followed the concentric circles backward, inward, and found the source of the ripples. And in this whispering silence and darkening world these are the motion pictures we project, these are the sounds we make. We show these movies on a rooftop in Brooklyn so that we can all acknowledge the stirrings and splashes made on the loudest day and the quietest night, in the center of the city and on the fringes of New York state.
There are so many New Yorks. Here are twelve of them.
THE FILMS:
Current (Brian Doyle, 3:00)
Doyle's two films tonight take inverse approaches to the central tragedy of our city's recent past, one looking back at an innocent time through the lens of destruction, the other seeing the beauty of ordinary civic structures transformed into a memorial. The startling footage in Current is from a celebration, not a disaster, but in our post-9/11 mindset, the eerie provocation is hard to miss.
Spring in Awe (Martina Radwan, 4:00) *
The overpowering displays of Times Square put a spell on the world in a disturbing lullaby of global capitalism.
Where I'm From (Claire Houghtalen, 7:40)
Contradicting opinions abound in this black and white portrait of a small town which is losing the battle against strip malls, highways and the lure of the city down south. The young people seem to hate Binghamton, but those who have been there a while still feel a sense of community.
Keep the Change (Beth Miranda Botshon, 15:00)
Emiliano is one of the many people who came to New York hoping to make his life better, only to find it harder than it was at home. He struggles to survive on below minimum wage restaurant delivery jobs, and even though he knows life would be easier for him in his Mexican farming village, he vows to make it in New York.
The Noodle Man (Bert Shapiro, 6:00)
From ShapiroØs "Hand and Eye" series, a collection of documentaries about modern artisans, comes this portrait of a toothless old man and the dazzling process of making an extraordinary amount of noodles.
Zazangmyun (Fay Shin, 4:25)
Sometimes you go to great lengths to introduce someone to something new, and it just grosses them out. A sad, sweet animation about a stinky, sticky food, and cultural barriers that canØt be crossed.
Cock (with commentary) (Devin Clarke, 11:00)
Half the world has one, yet few of us know what it's like to be one. Well, it's pretty boring, actually. But on the DVD the special features are hilarious.
INTERMISSION
Appointment with Mr. Roberts (Bert Shapiro, 5:00)
Nowadays, with Rogaine, Propecia and fancy surgeries, the days of the toupee may be numbered. But as with many dying crafts, thereØs more lyricism in a handmade hairpiece than in anything Phizer can make. Plus funny shots of combing a dummyØs head.
Artist Profile: Mac McGill (Yolanda Jones, 12:30) **
The story of a native New Yorker, who learned so much from the city, and gave so much back, he would do anything to stay. Turns out, living on the margins provided a great sense of community and inspiration.
Down (Vipal Monga / Tai Jimenez, 15:25)
With less graffiti, pre-recorded announcements, and now computer-driven trains (the L, on a trial basis), New York subways are becoming increasingly sterile. But one thing we hope will never go away is underground performers. Sure, often enough, when someone squawks their saxophone onto our train we'll drop a dollar in their hat just to make them go away. But what if the performer doesn't want money, or even attention? In this video, Tai Jimenez dances for and with the rhythm and beauty of the ride, and the riders' reactions are so wonderfully New York.
Bike Thief (Neistat Brothers, 7:00) ***
An average of 8,300 bicycles are reported stolen each year in New York. Long time bike advocates the Neistat Brothers wanted to know how this is possible, so one warm Tuesday they stole five bikes before noon without anyone looking twice. It's amazing what New Yorkers will ignore, and here the bike owners caught the whole thing on camera!
The Light (Brian Doyle, 10:00)
If ever Rooftop Films worried about our flickering lights disturbing the peaceful night, this stunning film will calm our fears. This homage to the incredible illumination of New York begins with the most simple structures, and builds to a climax with the ominous 9/11 memorial, which seems otherworldly, and yet perfect for the city that never sleeps.
