The Very Long Walking Sequence in Gerry

Perhaps the films that mean the most to us do so because of their parts, their sequences, a stray moment here or there that somehow speaks to us. If I had to make a list of the best films, it would really be a list of the best sequences. Synoptique has the right idea, with their style gallery of short clips accompanied by brief essays.

Although Gus Van Sant's film Gerry (2003) was not shot on video, it has the feel of a dv film, a slightly more polished version of a Dogma 95 film. The film's naturalism and long takes, its semi-improvised script, its lush colors, its long stretches of silence make it a sort of strange amalgam of something from Antonioni, Nicholas Roeg, Cassavetes, and Von Trier. It barely holds together as a film, and by about the halfway point you begin to ask yourself, maybe the joke's on me?

But then there are the sequences--about two or three of them--that are spectacular. The best one occurs about mid-way through, as the characters walk, side-by-side, through the desert.

One take, about seven minutes long. No cuts. No dialog. The only sound is of their feet crunching the sand and rocks, sometimes synchronized, sometimes not. It goes on and on. You keep expecting a cut that doesn't come. Long shots like this uncover the radical and simple beauty of real time: two guys walking, lost in their thoughts. Casey Affleck and Matt Damon. Are they thinking about what their characters in the movie would be thinking? Or are they thinking how hot it is to be walking in the sun for this long take?

The problem with film reviews is that they expect films to be good all the way through. Sure, there's a lot wrong with Peter Jackson's King Kong, but the few moments where Ann Darrow (Naomi Watts) sees Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody) while she is shooting a scene for a film on the ship at sunset is so expressionistic and beautiful that it redeems the entire film. Or the moment in Spielberg's Munich as Avner (Eric Bana) and Ephraim (Geoffrey Rush) walk near the ocean in the sun with the wind blowing, exchanging baklava. Just a few minutes. An almost throwaway scene. But in many ways the best one in the film.

Such moments offer a relief from the tyranny of narrative. And often it's in the most commercial, narrative-driven films where such moments stand out as small patches of beauty that threaten to overwhelm the vast storytelling machinery of which they are a small part.

Comments

[Matt]

"[T]he few moments where Ann Darrow (Naomi Watts) sees Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody) while she is shooting a scene for a film on the ship at sunset is so expressionistic and beautiful that it redeems the entire film."

The entire film? I beg to differ.

One minute doesn't redeem the other 186, but rathers justifies the old Surrealist practice of walking into a film unannounced, stealing time and images, and then leaving the moment one begins to get a grasp on the narrative.

[Chuck]

I've often considered starting a meme where people described favorite film scenes but haven't quite been able to put it into the right terms. There are certain scenes that I admire on levels I can't quite articulate.

One offhand example woul dbe th e scene in which Matthew McConaghey walks into the pool hall in Dazed and Confused while Dylan's "Hurricane" plays in the background. There's something profound about the scene that I haven't quite been able to identify.

I haven't seen King Kong and probably won't (I lost interest in Jackson when he started making the LotR films), but the scenes you dsecribe sound compelling.

[Kurtiss Hare]

"The problem with film reviews is that they expect films to be good all the way through."

So does the average audience member and a lot of my friends. As soon as I started taking on the kind of attitude that would redeem a film based on it's most beautiful segments, however sparse, I started to lose touch with a majority of my cinematic circle of influence. Sometimes, I'd like to go back, if only because I think it impossible.

As far as relief from the tyranny of a narrative goes: I think that kind of relief is so essential to the effectiveness of the narrative--like the times when you re-read that same sentence of some enticing prose, to reflect on its beauty as an atomic segment, but also on its relationship to its surroundings, and all the complexity that entails.

Of course, as evidenced by King Kong, the level of complexity varies. But, in the best narratives, that break from tyranny usually liberates me just enough to autonomously re-dedicate myself to its dominion.

[N]

Matt--

I know, but that scene does do it for me.

Hey Chuck--
I'm a cheap sentimentalist--I was completely taken in by Jackson's LOTR, especially the first and third one.

He convinced me.

[Peet]

"If I had to make a list of the best films, it would really be a list of the best sequences."

I agree. I'm not a list-kinda guy, certainly not when it involves rating one masterpiece over the other, but to compile a list of favorite master-"pieces" sounds like fun.

[kovacsm]

"a sort of strange amalgam of something from Antonioni, Nicholas Roeg, Cassavetes, and Von Trier"

and béla tarr. his almost 8 hour long sátántangó (satan's tango) with its looong walks has a great influence on gerry, as van sant mentioned it on several occasions.