CINEINFINITO / Cine Club Filmoteca de Cantabria
Jueves 27 de Julio de 2017, 16:30h, Filmoteca de Cantabria
Calle Bonifaz, 6
39003 Santander
Programa:
Eye Etc (1982) 16mm /color / silent / 4'
FIVE FILMS (1984-87):
FIVE FILMS (1984-87):
Nightfall (1984) 16mm / black and white / sound (citas de Jean Paul Sartre)/ 2'
Framed (1984) 16mm / color / sound / 2'
NYC (1985) 16mm / color / sound / 2'
PPI (1986) 16mm / black and white / sound / 3'
Turner (1987) 16mm / color / sound / 3'
Formato de proyección: 2K (Transfers digitales realizados por Anthology Film Archives)
Agradecimiento especial a MM Serra y a Filmmakers Coop.
--
Eye Etc (1982)
sensual de la cultura hawaiana.
[Filmed on vacation in Hawaii, the shots explore the light, colors and sensuous movement of
the Hawaiian culture.]
the Hawaiian culture.]
FIVE FILMS (1984-87):
una distintiva dimensión de erotismo poético. Vistas en conjunto, estas películas (...)
demuestran la ilimitada energía que animaba la escena cinematográfica underground de
Nueva York en aquellos años (...) —Anthology Film Archives, 2016
Su cine está marcado por una sensualidad exuberante, una preocupación por la luz, el juego y
la banda sonora tejida artísticamente. –Barbara Hammer, Yesterday and Tomorrow,
California Women Artists, 1985
[MM Serra’s FIVE FILMS embody a (...) Do-It-Yourself Lower East Side spirit, but introduces a
distinctive dimension of lyrical eroticism. Taken together these (...) films demonstrate both the
unbounded energy that animated the downtown NYC underground film scene in these years
(...) — Anthology Film Archives, 2016
Her cinema is marked by a lush sensuality, a concern for light, play and artfully woven
soundtrack. — Barbara Hammer, Yesterday and Tomorrow, California Women Artists, 1985]
Nightfall (1984)
Noche en una tierra extranjera
santuario de su dormitorio forrado en rosa. El fervor con el que ese sueño se asegura
establece límites precisos que tienen un eco en las pequeñas parcelas de tierra de dos acres
que dividen el suburbio. Para un extraño no bienvenido, esos límites se vuelven reales sólo
cuando son traspasados, y los principios sexuales que están destinados a demarcar son
violados. Hace mucho tiempo, yo era un extraño que caminaba por la noche sobre el borde de
ese sueño suburbano en un barrio residencial de Riverside, California. Para sus habitantes, el
sueño era un río que fluía en el ojo del policía. Una noche, ese ojo estuvo a punto de verme.
Pero me metí en las sombras a tiempo, y el coche de la patrulla pasó. Cuando se fue, miré a mi
alrededor. Había una casa con una sola luz encendida. Me arrastré hasta la ventana y
reconocí la triste y solitaria luz de un televisor, su pulso rítmico era la imagen de lo que
estaba vibrando a través de mis tristes y solitarias venas adolescentes. No voy a decir lo que
vi allí iluminado por la televisión. Pero puedo decir que, a medida que las horas se hinchaban
enterradas en la buena tierra de la noche, y como la noche misma gemía para apretar su
agarre, y como ambas se volvieron absolutas unas sobre otras, adquirí en el curso de esta
profundización, una súbita y penetrante simpatía con varias cosas que rocían, disparan y
fluyen: regaderas en el césped a la entrada de una casa, luz de luna en el ojo de un
depredador, agotado en un coche de policía, y la sangre que demuestra a todos que el bailarín
ha comenzado a bailar. –poema publicado de Keegan J. Goodman
[Night in a Foreign Land
The American suburb only ever dreams a single dream: it is of a teenage girl, virginal and
protected in the sanctuary of her bedroom lined in pink. The fervency with which that dream is
secured establishes precise boundaries that are echoed in the little two-acre plots of land that
divide up the suburb. For an unwelcome stranger, those boundaries become real only when
they are trespassed upon, and the sexual principles they are meant to demarcate violated. Long
ago, I was one such stranger, walking at night at the edge of that suburban dream in a
residential neighborhood of Riverside, California. For the inhabitants there, sleep was a river
that flowed into the eye of the cop. One night, I was almost seen by this eye. But I slipped into
the shadows in time, and the squad car passed by. When it was gone, I looked around. There
was a house with a single light on. I crept up to the window and recognized the sad, lonely light
of a television, its rhythmic pulse a double of whatever was pulsing through my own sad, lonely
teenage veins. I will not say what I saw there illuminated by the television. But I can say that, as
the hours swelled buried in the good soil of the night, and as the night itself groaned to tighten
its grip, and as both became absolute upon one another, I acquired in the course of this
deepening, a deep and sudden sympathy with several things that spray, shoot and flow:
sprinklers on a front lawn, moonlight out of the eye of a predator, exhaust from a cop’s car, and
the blood that proves to all that the dancer has begun to dance. — published poem of
Keegan J. Goodman]
The American suburb only ever dreams a single dream: it is of a teenage girl, virginal and
protected in the sanctuary of her bedroom lined in pink. The fervency with which that dream is
secured establishes precise boundaries that are echoed in the little two-acre plots of land that
divide up the suburb. For an unwelcome stranger, those boundaries become real only when
they are trespassed upon, and the sexual principles they are meant to demarcate violated. Long
ago, I was one such stranger, walking at night at the edge of that suburban dream in a
residential neighborhood of Riverside, California. For the inhabitants there, sleep was a river
that flowed into the eye of the cop. One night, I was almost seen by this eye. But I slipped into
the shadows in time, and the squad car passed by. When it was gone, I looked around. There
was a house with a single light on. I crept up to the window and recognized the sad, lonely light
of a television, its rhythmic pulse a double of whatever was pulsing through my own sad, lonely
teenage veins. I will not say what I saw there illuminated by the television. But I can say that, as
the hours swelled buried in the good soil of the night, and as the night itself groaned to tighten
its grip, and as both became absolute upon one another, I acquired in the course of this
deepening, a deep and sudden sympathy with several things that spray, shoot and flow:
sprinklers on a front lawn, moonlight out of the eye of a predator, exhaust from a cop’s car, and
the blood that proves to all that the dancer has begun to dance. — published poem of
Keegan J. Goodman]
Framed (1984)
contenido y proyección.
[A film about film celebrating the essence of the cinematic process: light, frame, content and
projection.]
projection.]
NYC (1985)
trabajando para Academy Motion Picture Arts S.
Un fotograma que captura la escena del arte de Nueva York en la década de 1980.
[Shot in and around NYC, including Trump Tower’s fountain. Serra was working for Academy
Motion Picture Arts S.
A single frame capturing New York art scene in the 1980’s.]
Motion Picture Arts S.
A single frame capturing New York art scene in the 1980’s.]
PPI (1986)
[Filmed in the fishing village of Puerto Peñasco in Mexico.]
Turner (1987)
[A journal of colors and undetermined places.]
(Traducción: José Luis Torrelavega)
