Rineke Dijkstra, still from “Ruth Drawing Picasso,” single-channel video, Tate Liverpool, 2009
Marian Goodman Gallery
24 West 57th St. between Fifth & Sixth Aves.
Monday – Friday through August 21
Admission: free
212-977-7160
www.mariangoodman.com
In the 2008 book IMAGE MAKERS, IMAGE TAKERS: INTERVIEWS WITH TODAY’S LEADING CURATORS, EDITORS, AND PHOTOGRAPHERS, Dutch artist Rineke Dijkstra says, “I make normal things appear special.” Dijkstra, who turns fifty-one this week, takes portraits of everyday people, most often staring directly into the camera, that are subtle yet revealing, exploring the act of seeing in both subject and viewer. Her current show at the Marian Goodman Gallery expands on that theme with a trio of video installations that explore art, interpretation, and innocence as seen through the eyes of children. In the three-channel projection “I See a Woman Crying (Weeping Woman),” Dijkstra shoots a group of nine schoolkids who are looking at something ever so slightly off-camera. Their individual thoughts and ideas reveal aspects of themselves, then directly influence the group discussion as a whole. We first watched the film without knowing what they were specifically talking about, which was simply fascinating; we then took it in again, knowing that they were looking at a reproduction of Picasso’s “Weeping Woman” that was attached to the camera’s tripod, which gave the work a new perspective. In “Ruth Drawing Picasso,” a young girl, in school uniform and boots, is sitting on the floor of the Tate Liverpool, sketching that very same painting. The intensity in the girl’s eyes, her careful concentration, and the sound of pencil hitting paper come together in absolutely thrilling ways. Ruth occasionally looks to her left, where another student, off-camera, is apparently doing the same thing, as if she is checking how her work compares to the other girl’s, wanting so much to do well. And in the four-channel video “The Krazyhouse, Liverpool, UK (Megan, Simon, Nicky, Philip, Dee),” Dijkstra depicts young kids, shown individually on one screen at a time (placed on each wall of a dark room), dancing to songs that they chose. Shot against a white background, the subjects start slowly, a little nervous, before eventually letting loose, allowing the music and the experience to take over. It’s an energizing work that examines adolescent self-esteem and the ability to free oneself from self-consciousness and societal restrictions. The exhibit, which is supplemented by a series of portraits, indeed makes “normal things appear special.”
A British gangster on the run hides out with a psychedelic rock star in this strangely enticing film from Donald (THE DEMON SEED) Cammell and Nicolas Roeg (making his big-screen directorial debut). James Fox didn’t know what he was getting into when he signed on to play Chas, a mobster who finds sanctuary with mushroom-popping rock-diva has-been Turner, played with panache by Mick Jagger. Throw in Anita Pallenberg, a fab drug trip, and the great “Memo to Turner” scene and you have a film that some consider the real precursor to MTV, some think a work of pure demented genius, and others find to be one of the most pretentious and awful pieces of claptrap ever committed to celluloid. We fall somewhere in the middle of all of that.
Masako Kobayashi’s ten-hour epic, THE HUMAN CONDITION, based on a popular novel by Jumpei Gomikawa, is one of the most stunning achievements ever captured on film. Shot over the course of three years, the film follows one man’s harrowing struggle to never give up his humanity as he is dragged deeper and deeper into the morass of WWII. Tatsuya Nakadai is remarkable as Kaji, a man who believes in common decency, personal discipline, and, above all else, that humanity will always triumph. In the first part, NO GREATER LOVE, the steadfastly practical Kaji is hesitant to marry his sweetheart, Michiko (Michiyo Aratama), for fear that he will be called to serve in the Japanese army and might not come back to her alive. But when his detailed plan to treat workers fairly is accepted by the government, he is made labor supervisor of a mine in far-off Southern Manchuria, where hundreds of Chinese prisoners are brought in as well — and regularly starved, beaten, and, on occasion, brutally killed in cold blood. Kaji’s methods, which have close ties to communism, leading many to refer to him as a “Red,” anger both sides — the Japanese want to treat the workers like animals, and the Chinese prisoners don’t trust that he has their welfare in mind. A series of escape attempts threatens the stability of the labor camp and comes between Kaji and Michiko, whose undying love is echoed in the yearning, unfulfilled desire between a Korean prisoner and a Japanese prostitute. Broken promises, lies, and betrayal reach a tense conclusion that sets the stage for the second part of Kobayashi’s masterpiece.
