PERIPHERAL PRODUCE SHOWS THE KIDS HOW IT'S DONE

Those in attendance at this year's first installment of EFF Portland no doubt heard a lot of conversation about Portland's past as a mecca for experimental film.  To a certain extent, the mission statement of the new festival centered around rebooting that legacy.  One could easily point out the loose collective of video and film artists known as Peripheral Produce as being one of the touchstones of Portland's experimental past.  From the mid-90s through the first decade of the new millennium, the film collective dipped their paws into exhibition, distribution and, perhaps most influentially, began a local festival (PDX Fest) for highlighting experimental fare.

This Saturday night Peripheral Produce rises from the ashes to celebrate the re-release of their 1996 video compilation the Auto-Cinematic Video Mix Tape.  Collective organizer Matt McCormick has cobbled together a showcase of new and old experimental work for the evening's entertainment, replicating the feel of the collective's legendary experimental film nights.  Audiences can expect to see works by McCormick, Miranda July, Vanessa Renwick, Andy Blubaugh, Ashby Lee Collinson, Orland Nutt, Rob Tyler and many more.

Consider it a forum of sorts between the wizened elder statesmen (okay, statespeople...this is the 21st century, after all) and the new school of underground film kids.  By all means, take notes, folks...this is how it's done.

Let's all take a moment to gaze upon an excerpt from the press release:

The August 4th show will feature seminal Portland works along with a selection of new works from Portland’s fast rising “next generation” of experimental filmmakers. The show and DVD features acclaimed artist and filmmaker Miranda July’s 1996 video Atlanta. Atlanta was July’s first significant video piece, and shows the makings of her sharp sense of humor and attention to detail found in her later blockbuster works (Me and You and Everyone We Know, The Future). 

The show and DVD also include writer/filmmaker Jon Raymond’s 1997 piece Battles on the Astral Plane, a clever mocking of the popular Mortal Kombat video game that shows Raymond’s crafty, self-effacing wit that can still be found in his books and screenplays (Wendy and Lucy, Meek’s Cutoff, Livability). Vanessa Renwick, Chel White, Rob Tyler and Matt McCormick also offer works from early in their career. 

Also included in the program is new works from NW Film Festival winner Orland Nutt and TBA darling Ashley Lee Collinson, as well as work from Stephen Slappe, Andrew Blubaugh, Ben Popp, Jim Blashfield, and many others.

The Peripheral Produce manifesto

the subconscious art of graffiti removal (excerpt) from matt mccormick on Vimeo.


Peripheral Produce's dvd release party for the Auto-Cinematic Video Mix Tape happens at the Hollywood Theatre on Saturday, August 4th at 8pm.  More info available here.


Remember to find and "like" us on our Facebook page.
Subscribe to the blog's feed here.

Best of 2011 --> six through ten

#10 The Future (dir. Miranda July):

I admired Miranda July's previous film, Me and You and Everyone We Know, but was still befuddled by the sheer amount of ink spilled on its behalf back in 2005.  After seeing her second feature,  I am absolutely drinking the Kool-aid now.

July dials back the more twee aspects of her art and finds herself capable of weaving the various ideas at play in The Future into a piece with far more cohesive center.

A thoroughly captivating, touching and relatable film with great insight into the disconnects and moments of stasis that plague every relationship.  Placing too much emphasis on the future, it seems to forward, can effectively poison both it and the present.

#9 Take Shelter (dir. Jeff Nichols):

Michael Shannon exudes a helpless confusion bordering (and sometimes crossing into) manic violence in Jeff Nichols' follow-up to his phenomenal debut (Shotgun Stories). Shannon plays Curtis, a man reaching the age at which his mother began to manifest signs of schizophrenia. Cue the waking hallucinations and recurring nightmares, all of which deal either with an oncoming storm or a betrayal by someone close to him.

Nichols deftly directs his own screenplay, never allowing the material to get overtaken by the symbology employed throughout the story. The strain on the relationship between Curtis and his wife Samantha (Jessica Chastain) is, appropriately, given more weight than the moments where Curtis is frozen in his tracks by the visions that plague him.

Although Take Shelter falls just short of possessing the power of Shotgun Stories; one of the best of the prior decade, both films are riveting testaments to the collaborative powers of Nichols and Shannon. Here's hoping their relationship continues to bloom onscreen.

#8 Melancholia (dir. Lars von Trier):

A film that fully embodies the feeling of a cold, disabling depressive bout. Von Trier takes a gigantic risk by revealing his cards early on in the first several minutes of the film. After giving the viewer an idea of what to expect, via the seductively beautiful introduction, he leaves us to suffer through the long, emotionally-muted slog to a conclusion already foretold.

Despite the high demands it puts on the viewer, Melancholia is exceedingly difficult to look away from, punishing us as we engage with it.

#7 Certified Copy (dir. Abbas Kiarostami):

Most movies define their characters early on, never straying far from those initial impressions of who it is we are watching. Certified Copy moves in an entirely different fashion. Kiarostami plays a shell game with the audience, telling us first who these people (Juliette Binoche and William Shimell) are before throwing us a long curve that lasts throughout the rest of the film.

In many ways, Certified Copy is reminiscent of pictures like Mindwalk and My Dinner with Andre, an odd duck of a microscopic sub-genre of cinema built around captivating conversations, rather than the standard focus on actions and scenarios.  Hit the link to read what I had to say about the film last February.

#6 Shame (dir. Steve McQueen):

Quite simply, the best performances I saw last year were on display in Steve McQueen's Shame. Michael Fassbender, reunited with his director from Hunger, stretches beyond himself, fully projecting the image of man hollowed out by sexual addiction. It's a layered performance that mixes compulsion with humiliation, all tempered with a strong dose of alienation.

Carey Mulligan is incredibly solid as well, mining the tension within several places to memorable effect. The extended moment in which she sings is probably the most exquisitely painful to behold; this in a film filled with difficult moments throughout.

Remember to find and "like" us on our Facebook page.
Subscribe to the blog's feed here.