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| Images courtesy of Public Shore Films |
Childhood obsessions sometimes fade into memories, but occasionally, they remain at the forefront, shaping the path of the eventual adult. With his newest film, director and film historian Daniel Kremer explores the connections between childhood and adulthood and the connective tissue of various films, tied together by location and thematic parallels.
The opening statement of Kremer's visual essay meshes together It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963) and Zabriskie Point (1970), the latter of which he was enthralled with as a child. We see footage of him as a young boy, happily munching pizza while Zabriskie Point plays on a TV in front of him. Via voiceover, Kremer talks of his childhood, his struggles with a speech impediment, and the fact that he found solace by escaping into films. Death Valley symbolizes his comfort, and the desert filming location for Zabriskie Point is also shared with It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. Something about the barren dustiness calls to him, fills his mind, and trickles into his dreams. Eventually, it pops up in various ways in his future work, almost haunting it, in a way.
Initially, the audience is bounced between these two films as Kremer points out both their commonalities and where they diverge thematically. He draws a hard line in the sand between them: the assassination of JFK, a turning point for America that reverberated through popular culture. It's a Mad World full of hijinks and silly asides, whereas Zabriskie Point is cynical, miring itself firmly in the countercultural zeitgeist. As the film progresses, these two films are shuffled together like a deck of cards, edited to play off each other, no longer two separate works but something new (hence the title of the essay).
Death Valley resides in the middle of a cinematic spider web, holding the center as Kremer weaves asides and thoughts around it. Eventually, it becomes less about Death Valley specifically and more about what the concept of the desert means to artists and society. It can be where someone can find themselves or a gritty grave to hide and bury their identity and fears. Why are so many people drawn to create art there? More movies are introduced to the equation, like dunes rising in the distance, a million tiny thoughts and impressions building up a sprawling vista. The editing is fantastic, as Kremer methodically unpacks his fascination with form and function, flitting in and out of various movies deftly and assuredly.
Towards the film's end, the viewer is brought back to Kremer's adult life as he discusses his work as a director with his friend Rob Nilsson. Previously, he had only visited Death Valley through cinema and dreams, and finally, he made the trek to the real deal. As he stands on a cliff overlooking Death Valley, overcome with deja vu from years of daydreams and cinematic memories, it's not hard to imagine the little boy standing there as well, finally at his oasis in person.
--Michelle Kisner