
Sue de Beer’s “Haunt Room” offers psychological thrills and chills on the High Line (photo by twi-ny/mdr)
The High Line, 14th Street Passage
Daily through Sunday, December 4, free, 12 noon – 6:00 pm
www.thehighline.org
www.suedebeer.com
haunt room slideshow
In such recent site-specific works as “Black Sun” and “The Ghosts” and such gallery shows as “Depiction of a Star Obscured by Another Figure,” Sue de Beer creates multimedia sculptural installations that delve deep into the human psyche using dreamlike imagery. Last week de Beer unveiled her latest work, which seeks to give visitors nightmares instead. Two years in the making from its original concept, “Haunt Room” is an infrasound-based fourteen-sided chamber that warns all ye who enter that it might cause “changes in blood pressure, heart rate, and breathing rate. Infrasound exposure may also temporarily induce feelings of drowsiness, extreme sorrow, pressure in the ears, loss of concentration, and disorientation.” Appropriately enough, the New York-based de Beer was raised in Salem, Massachusetts, and there are likely to be plenty of witches showing up on Halloween to partake of the chills “Haunt Room” offers. The structure stands behind the wall on the High Line’s Fourteenth St. Passage, with a round center room with smoke-colored Plexiglas walls bathed in soft, glowing light and emitting creepy creaks and rumbling noises in addition to inaudible low-frequency sounds meant to induce physical and emotional feelings associated with haunted spaces. If you go in with a group of friends who are chatting away about their trip to Uniqlo or how plastered they got the night before, “Haunt Room” is likely to be a disappointment; however, if you get the chance to experience it with a few like-minded souls who remain quiet, close their eyes, and allow the installation to take over — we recommend imagining yourself trapped in a low-budget horror flick, with no way out — “Haunt Room” will set you off balance, making you feel dizzy and out of sorts.







Screening at 92YTribeca as part of the third annual Doomsday Film Festival — which promises “Deserted streets! Blood-red skies! Total social breakdown!” — Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove is one of the grandest satires ever made, the blackest of black comedies. With the threat of nuclear annihilation looming over the United States and the Soviet Union, General Jack D. Ripper (Sterling Hayden) has a meltdown, becoming obsessed with protecting the country’s “precious bodily fluids” and threatening to launch the bombs. While President Merkin Muffley (Peter Sellers) tries to make nice with the Soviets, General Buck Turgidson (George C. Scott) gets caught up in all the military excitement, Colonel Bat Guano (Keenan Wynn) defends the Coca-Cola company, Group Captain Lionel Mandrake (Sellers) can’t get anyone to listen to him, and Major T. J. “King” Kong (Slim Pickens) prepares for the ride of his life. Based on Peter George’s novel Red Alert and written by George, Kubrick, and Terry Southern, Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb is hysterically funny and wickedly prescient, an absolute hoot from start to finish, featuring razor-sharp dialogue, inspired slapstick, and just enough truth to scare the hell out of you. (Be sure to watch for Peter Bull not being able to stop laughing as Sellers goes crazy in a wheelchair at the end.) The screening will be followed by a “Doomsday on the Brain” panel discussion with Joseph Le Doux, Dr. Mark Siegel, Lee Quinby, Keith Uhlich, and Mark Asch, moderated by Paul W. Morris from, of course, BOMB magazine. The Doomsday Film Festival also includes Steve De Jarnatt’s 1988 WWIII flick Miracle Mile, followed by a Q&A with star Anthony Edwards and the director; Don McKellar’s 1999 Y2K nightmare Last Night; Joseph Sargent’s classic Colossus: The Forbin Project, followed by “The Singularity Is Nigh,” a panel discussion with Maggie Jackson, Joshua Rothkopf, Jason Zinoman, Chris Bregler, and Roger Schank, moderated by Michael Byrne; Tobe Hooper’s 1985 exploitation fave Lifeforce, preceded by complimentary sexy alien zombie makeup; a collection of short films; and schlockmeister Larry Cohen’s 1976 cop drama God Told Me To, followed by a Skype Q&A with Cohen. If the end of the world is coming, this is a fine way to say goodbye.