
Over four enlightening hours, Kubelka
reiterates a smorgasbord of definitive observations, noting for
instance that cinema is still and it is projection with puts it into
motion (showing a sculpture of a bird in flight, each movement
captured in space, Kubelka then discusses the inner workings of a
zoetrope) and that the digitization of actual film loses something in
its transformation to video; far from being a Luddite, Kubelka
nonetheless refuses to digitize his films, as the fact that they are
shot and thus projected on film matters greatly. Staying true to this
belief, only glimpses of his work are shown in this documentary,
which was shot and projected on video.
In a class lecture, we see Kubelka
asking his students, row by row, to unspool a role of film before
passing it backward, over their head, to the row behind them. If they
can use their senses to see, feel, etc. the film cells, then they
ultimately become closer to the process of physically making and
viewing them.
Much of the documentary takes place
within Kubelka's home in Austria, and the camera gets a sense of
space as well as the history within it. A collector of cultural art
and objects from around the world, Kubelka's first item collected was
a cube within a cube, and it fascinates him to no end. Throughout the
film, we will see many of his cherished items, some in a rapid
series of close-ups and others representing the human form, i.e. a
statue of a nude African woman.
Later, we realize Kubelka's love for another type of put-together architecture: film editing. Sitting at his cutting table and going through scenes from Unsere Afrikareise, Kubelka breaks down the perpetual motion evident in the fluidity of his shot selection; Kudláček concurrently implements footage of an old television program featuring Kubelka describing the same film. The use of nonsync sound and its juxtaposition within the imagery greatly excites Kubelka, and the first half of Fragments features the man's voice almost exclusively.
Later, we realize Kubelka's love for another type of put-together architecture: film editing. Sitting at his cutting table and going through scenes from Unsere Afrikareise, Kubelka breaks down the perpetual motion evident in the fluidity of his shot selection; Kudláček concurrently implements footage of an old television program featuring Kubelka describing the same film. The use of nonsync sound and its juxtaposition within the imagery greatly excites Kubelka, and the first half of Fragments features the man's voice almost exclusively.
The second half opens up to
include others influential and influenced: fans discuss
his works' personal impact on them (a projectionist gets a tattoo of
film frames from Arnulf Rainer) and their work with him (the
opening of Anthology Film Archives at the Public Theater is
represented by stills of Andy Warhol, Jonas Mekas – with megaphone
in hand, Ken Jacobs, and others gathering to celebrate a new major art
hub). It also delves heavily into Kubelka's love for cooking, from
its role as metaphor to the differences found in personal and
professional cooking (robotized and mechanical = impersonal). Kubelka
notes that cooking is a transformative process, combing elements
which have no business being fused together, and the film follows him
as he lovingly prepares a meal for himself with copious amounts of
butter. That the film opens and concludes with Kubelka at his dinner
table is no accident.
A filmmaker whose work was commissioned
and then despised by its commissioners, Kubelka's trials and
tribulations on display here represent a man who made art his way and
to his understanding. Wait until you hear how he made audio tracks
using nothing more than a typewriter. Always inspiring, Martina Kudláček's work here, dedicated to Kubelka's children, should prove to be catnip for students and scholars of the medium. Watching Fragments' at the opening night New York premiere at Anthology, as I did, with Kubelka in attendance was, to say the least, a very worthwhile experience.
Highly Recommended
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