Real reels
Sampling of local shorts shows some depth

FAVA Vision 20/20
Commissions Part One
Fri., Oct. 19, 9 p.m.
Comissions Part Two
Sat., Oct. 20, 9 p.m.
Commissions Parts One & Two
Sun., Oct. 21, 2 p.m.
Metro Cinema (9828 - 101 A. Ave)
(See Listings for other FAVA Vision 20/20 events)
*** (out of five)

Under normal circumstances, most people wouldn’t sit down for a two-hour grab bag of various experimental short films. But this situation isn’t normal, because these are all home-grown slabs of video art, commissioned by Edmonton’s own Film And Video Arts Society as a tribute to the 20 years FAVA’s been in the artsy business of helping Edmontonians make film. Considering the films’ lengthy credits, chances are you know somebody who made one of these films, or appeared in them, or held the boom mike, or participated in some way, so let’s assume you’re going and see what’s in the bag.

When you’re talking about experimental films, you’re talking video art, which is usually code for "boring to everybody except the filmmaker." Experimental films thrive on shots of running water and roads going by, private little ruminations on private images, usually long at 3 minutes. There’s Troy Rhoades’ Whitemud #1, 2, 3, scratchy bits of burnt-out blobs and glimpses of trees that looks like the film was exposed in a dirty ashtray rather than a camera. There’s Rick Gustavsen’s Mind the Gap, which says thrilling things about time by offering snippets of subway images and the High Level Bridge, then recycling the same footage, then recycling it again. And then on the good end there’s Eva Colmer’s Fly, which uses some scratch-animation, simple camera tricks and funky music to liven up its 3-minute little-girl dream of flying.

We also have two eulogy films: Bill Hornecker’s My Grandfather, My Father, and My Son, and Alex Vizmeg’s My Brother Joe. Hornecker gives tribute to his deceased father with loving shots of Alberta prairie and the piece of land his family’s owned for generations, while Vizmeg honors his late brother Joe with old black-n-white footage of bearded, goofy Joe playing with clapboards and wearing a caribou costume.

There’s also a couple of 9—11 tributes, Helen Folkmann’s ...when it’s real and Jeremy Rittwage’s T is for Terror. The press pack for ...when it’s real explains that it’s "taken from the I Ching, hexagram #64, Fire Over Water: the image of the condition before transition." That might explain all the footage of paper bags with candles inside floating down a river. T is for Terror, meanwhile, is a split-screen compilation of WTC money shots, over before you know it.

Hints of stories and subjects crop up in some of the films. Tim Folkmann’s Last Light depicts Steve Pirot freezing to death alone in the woods, while Slice delves into the dizzying world of cooking at a tree-planting camp.

For entertainment value, there’s Kelly Service’s Rolling, a neat little gag that gets in and out quickly without overstaying its welcome. Lindsay McIntyre’s Taking Flight shows us a woman recalling a childhood rape in old-looking, home-movie-style footage. Edmonton funnymen Wes Borg and Paul Mather present How to Buy a Computer, a flash-animated run of computer jokes that are funny. Mieko Ouchi’s Assembly is a one-shot monologue where shifting lighting plays across the creepy, craggy face of an old film editor/censor who talks mostly about cutting film and only a little about cutting women. And then there’s Dave Morgan’s Black Angus, the most successful piece, a silent-movie music video that takes singer Wendy McNeil up on the roof, playing squeezebox against an oddly exhilarating Edmonton skyline.

As a fun night out at the movies, FAVA’s Vision 20/20 isn’t going to blow anybody’s nuts off. But as proof there’s film in Edmonton – weird, offbeat experimental film shoulder-to-ass with regular storytelling – Vision 20/20 delivers the goods.