National Geographic joins Wade Davis on a journey deep into the Australian outback to document the disappearing cultures of Australia's Aborigines, thought to be one of the oldest groups of peoples on earth. After losing clan members to disease, war, and famine-as well as battling enforced relocations-small Aboriginal clans must fight to keep traditions alive for the next generation.
Not quite a short or a feature, Sara Driver’s long-lost 1981 production “You Are Not I” exists on some alternate plane that renders the distinction irrelevant. It’s more like a haunting cinematic journey that leads directly into its mentally disturbed protagonist’s head. “You Are Not I” adapts the Paul Bowles short story of the same name and turns it into a disorienting psychological experience where nobody’s sanity can be trusted, including that of the audience.
The entire 48 minutes that comprise “You Are Not I” take place from the perspective of Ethel (Suzanne Fletcher), a frightening head case whose main dialogue is mostly heard in voiceover. Shot in dreary black-and-white against the drab backdrop of suburban New Jersey, the minimal story finds Ethel wandering past a gruesome car accident buried in plumes of smoke. As hordes of firefighters scurry about, she happens upon the grim sight of bodies covered in sheets and takes the cryptic initiative to place rocks between their lips. That decision is an extension of the movie’s overall inscrutability, a status that demands repeat viewings.
Sara Driver (born December 15, 1955) is an American independent filmmaker from Westfield, New Jersey. A participant in the independent film scene that flourished in lower Manhattan from the late 1970s through the 1990s, she gained initial recognition as producer of two early films by Jim Jarmusch, Permanent Vacation (1980) and Stranger Than Paradise (1984). Driver has directed two feature films, Sleepwalk (1986) and When Pigs Fly (1993), as well as a notable short film, You Are Not I (1981), and a documentary, Boom For Real: The Late Teenage Years of Jean-Michel Basquiat (2018), on the young artist's pre-fame life in the burgeoning downtown New York arts scene before the city's massive changes through the 1980s. She served on the juries of various film festivals throughout the 2000s
Einstuerzende Neubauten at the height of their powers. I saw them in 1990, and was stunned. Before this I thought music was something else. It then became everything.
Francesca Woodman (April 3, 1958 – January 19, 1981) was an American photographer best known for her black and white pictures featuring herself and female models. Many of her photographs show young women who are nude, blurred (due to movement and long exposure times), merging with their surroundings, or whose faces are obscured. Her work continues to be the subject of much critical acclaim and attention, years after she killed herself at the age of 22.
"The Woodmans" focuses on a nuclear family of artists and exploring the effects of the prodigiously talented daughter’s suicide, C. Scott Willis’ elegiac debut feature is an inspiring portrait of working artists, fragile and resilient. The film picked up the best New York documentary prize at Tribeca.
Francesca Woodman, who died in 1981 at 22, was by all accounts exceptional, and the body of work she left behind — mostly haunting photographs, many of them surrealist-influenced nude self-portraits — attests to a visionary imagination.
The temptation for many observers is to imbue every piece with premonitions of her final, self-destructive act. But Willis, a veteran of nonfiction television who was granted full access to the prolific woman’s photos, videos and journals, is more concerned with the fulfilling but precarious realities of aesthetic devotion, a way of life Francesca learned from her parents.
Her journals express acute self-awareness, longing and disconnection — all common enough traits in creative people. One of the observations Willis highlights, “My parents are so very married,” speaks to the intense bond between ceramist/sculptor Betty and painter/photographer George, together now almost 60 years. With their clear-eyed assessment of parenthood — George characterizes children as “gift-calamities” — and their unapologetic insistence that art is their chief purpose, they’re fascinating, likable subjects.
Francesca’s work awed her parents and brother Charles as much as it did her classmates and teachers. It’s now highly valued and in a way overshadows that of George and Betty. In interviews for the film, the Woodmans are candid about the unavoidable professional rivalry; understandably, they’re more guarded about articulating their grief. Filling that gap are teary moments from a few of Francesca’s friends. And joining Betty and George on a Venice gondola, DP Neil Barrett zeroes in on a moment that’s bursting with heartache.
The above video shows a collection of Francesca Woodman's video works. These extremely rare videos have only recently been compiled by the estate and shown only occasionally. The videos reveal a singular glimpse into the working process of this extraordinary young artist.
A brief description of Francesca Woodman's Life and Pictures
