‘Isolation cinema’: filmmakers under lockdown explore big ideas in small spaces
- Thessaloniki International Film Festival commissioned directors from around the world to make short films in conditions of confinement
- Despite the limitations, or perhaps because of them, the resulting shorts explore the despair and hope brought on by the coronavirus pandemic
In March 2011, Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi shot a documentary entirely within the confines of his home with just a camcorder and a mobile phone. It was a practical rather than an aesthetic choice as he was under house arrest at the time, slapped with a filmmaking ban for his support of pro-democracy movement Green Wave, which the Iranian authorities had brutally quashed two years earlier.
This Is Not a Film premiered in Cannes two months later to rave reviews. Filmmakers and critics lauded Panahi for delivering a full-fledged and reflective treatise while secluded from the world in a state-enforced lockdown. Who could have guessed Panahi’s “isolation cinema” – his second attempt being Closed Curtain (2013), a slightly more expansive drama filmed in a more spacious house by the sea – would become the new normal for many filmmakers stuck at home due to the coronavirus pandemic?
Despite the limitations – or maybe because of them – directors from far and wide have signed up for the project. The results have been diverse: entries range from a slick, po-faced comedy of social-distancing manners to a tour of a veteran director’s personal library. They are, however, all alike in their attempts to channel the despair and hope of humanity during this seemingly never-ending crisis.
Chinese director Jia Zhangke’s Visit might remind future audiences of the rituals of human (dis)connection during these strange days of 2020 as two filmmakers ponder the perils of a handshake, punctuate a business meeting with hand sanitiser and sit down to watch old footage of happier times, when crowds could mingle freely.
Denis Côté offered something that oozes a similar mix of humour and melancholia. Titled cnfnmnt e/scp(i)sm, the Quebecois cineaste’s piece is lockdown life from his point of view: he checks pandemic statistics online, watches porn, jogs along deserted streets, visits the empty laundry room in the basement of his apartment block, listens to a man spewing crazy conspiracy theories online, checks the statistics again and watches film classics such as Michelangelo Antonioni’s La Notte (1961). It’s a perfect four-minute slab of quarantine quotidian boredom.
A Fable, by Romanian director Radu Jude, illustrates how a dexterous artist can use whatever meagre resources are at hand to explore expansive themes that usually require a treasure trove of material or a vast cast. Jude is known for re-enacting episodes from Romania’s history in dramas such as Aferim! (2015) or I Do Not Care If We Go Down in History as Barbarians (2018).
In My Photograph, Greek director Stavros Psillakis mines his possessions and memories to make sense of his existence in this chaotic world. The film explores his bookshelves, brimming with well-worn tomes by philosophers Friedrich Nietzsche, from Germany, and Ludwig Wittgenstein, from Austria, French writer Jean-Paul Sartre and Romanian historian Mircea Eliade.
Though not Greek, Psillakis describes them as his “compatriots”, with whom he shares more of a kindred spirit than he does with his neighbours out clapping for doctors against whom they would launch foul-mouthed tirades in more peaceful times. He hints at how the lockdown is bringing his alienation from Greek society into sharper focus as he finds solace in being forced to spend time away from the maddening crowds.
While made with constraints aplenty, these short films are heartening, showing how creativity can break down barriers.
As Panahi once said of his art: “Nothing can prevent me from making films since when being pushed to the ultimate corners I connect with my inner self and, in such private spaces, despite all limitations, the necessity to create becomes even more of an urge.”
