Nikolaus Geyrhalter has described his static-camera, nearly architecturally-composed, observational docs as “archival material, which people will dig out in 50 or 100 years.” Which makes perfect sense since the Austrian auteur is not really a creator of “slow” cinema – an abundance of movement forever present within his frame – so much as works not bound by the manmade concept of time. And similar to many of our (last century’s) modern artists he prefers to let inanimate objects – which in turn become curious characters our eye is drawn to follow – take the narrative lead.
Now with his latest Matter Out of Place, which premiered at the Locarno Film Festival (and took the “green leopard” environmental prize), Geyrhalter has made what I’m guessing will be this year’s most riveting film about garbage. Though the title could just as easily apply to humankind as well.
In fact, the director – who’s long had a knack for portraying people as alien species – presents a strong case for why we’re undoubtedly the most unnatural (not to mention destructive) element upon this earth.
Starting with shot after (increasingly unbelievable) shot of landfills; which interestingly, serve as both a visual condemnation of human wastefulness as well as our resourcefulness. (Waste pickers after all do spin scraps into monetary “gold.”)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fy3lb2XpqAE
For the arrogant 20th-century mantra of “to go where no man has gone before” has now been unmasked to reveal its true meaning: to go where no man has a right to go. Indeed, why “on earth” do we place blemishes like ski lifts on pristine mountaintops? Why are bulldozers (our steel avatars) so ubiquitous as to be invisible to the everyday eye? Through Geyhralter’s lens even an abandoned swing hanging from a palm tree is rendered an immoral eyesore.
Through Geyhralter’s lens even an abandoned swing hanging from a palm tree is rendered an immoral eyesore
And counterintuitively, by showing us the waste left by humans – while leaving humans from the frame – we are better able to clearly see our cockroach-like selves in that absence. From scuba divers “catching” trash like underwater robots, to a blow-up shark balloon hovering above a desert during a sandstorm, it seems we’ve singlehandedly turned the entire world on its head. For proof, look no further than what emerges from that ominous sci-fi storm: a neon sign reading “I love you” (with “fucking” alternately flashing before and then after “love”). Followed by the sound of thumping techno music, (un)naturally.
That said, Burning Man, the pinnacle of our hedonistic absurdity, at least makes an attempt at self-aware environmental stewardship – evident in the equally absurd, post-party “sifting through the sand” cleanup (in which someone even finds a lost contact lens).
“Don’t get attached to your matter out of place,” a guy warns as young and hungover (green)washers dump their MOOP into a collective bin.
Sweeping the desert with brooms the final uncanny (and poignant) image; we’re all now powerless in the face of our own catastrophic hubris.