Phantom Love

As a fan of Ms. Menkes' films, I didn't quite know what to expect from her new feature film, Phantom Love. I have been a fan since seeing her six previous works--Soft Warrior, Great Sadness of Zohara, Magdalena Viraga, Queen of Diamonds, Bloody Child, and Massakre. What I love about Nina's work is that it is utterly brave, bold, and original! Nina dares to tap into something spiritual, mystic, subconscious...something undefinable, something magical... Her new film, Phantom Love, a stunning feature shot in black and white 35MM, seems even more daring and unique. From the opening frame, Nina steadies her shots with a hand-held, "raw" edge. She abandons some of her more formal static shots in favor of a roaming eye...an eye that seems to dig down into her subject, dig a hole...pierce and burrow into the depths of the alienation and repression of her female characters. Her central character, a blackjack dealer living in Los Angeles, is somewhat reminiscent of Firdaus from Queen of Diamonds; but unlike Firdaus, this protagonist struggles with "family problems" such as an overbearing mother and psychotic sister. At one point, the "sister" disappears and seems to fuse into the psychic space of the protagonist/blackjack dealer. Typical of Nina's work, specific elements can be debated...and often the literal is less important than the subconscious space or the internal sensations awakened from a particular sequence... In the end, it seems a weight had been lifted as butterflies encircled the main character and she stood naked in the window of her medieval-style apartment. Perhaps this is a sign of hope...perhaps Nina will simple leave it up to the viewer to decide... No matter, I have rarely been so moved from viewing a film... Way to go girl!!!

This is the type of film I am predisposed to love. I have watched it twice (trying, I was trying...and I don't know why) and outside of the Tarkovsky homage I hate it. It is an enigma wrapped in pretension and convolution parading as cool wit and genius. The problem with the ethereal, ephemeral or whatever style of film one might be inclined to call these pictures is they can go wrong in a hurry.. It is not easy being Tarkovsky, Weerasethakul or Lynch...it isn't. Case in point. Granted there are a few moments to appreciate in this art-house tire-fire but those moments are few and far between and always fleeting. Maybe if Nina Mekas could have shaved about 70 minutes off of the 87 minute running time she may have had something. Unfortunately, all 87 minutes are present and counted for, but all the viewer will be left with is anger.

Why did I waste my money on this on the last day of Sundance? I want a refund... Can I have my $16 back? While I was watching this film I kept waiting for something to happen, nothing did happen. The only way I even knew what it was supposed to be about was by reading the plot, which was not really like the film. why did the director zoom in with their handy cam and then zoom out? It was not very artistic. Why did the director show Lulu filing her nails for fifteen minutes? Why is it when the actors tried to speak they sounded like they were reading? Or was that the point? I felt like Phantom Love had no story at all, and to be honest I felt like my friends vacation videos had a much higher entertainment value than this film.

Andrei Tarkovsky tells us that a teacher wrote the following about his film Mirror (1974):

"The film itself lifts the spell of silence and enables one to free one's spirit from the anxieties and trivia that weigh us down…showing the true, instead of the false, values of the world; making every object play a part; making every detail of the picture into a symbol; building up to a philosophical statement through an extraordinary economy of means; filling every frame with poetry and music." (p. 11, Sculpting in Time)

Thirty-three years later, this also describes the power of Nina Menkes' new feature, Phantom Love. Combining the real and surreal in daring ways, the film blurs the distinctions between the two to tell the story of an alienated woman's inner, spiritual awakening. Structured to reflect the main character, Lulu's internal conflicts, one experiences Phantom Love the way one experiences life—going in and out of dreams and nightmares to assemble one's own reality.

The film merges human and animal worlds in with great focus and heart, mesmerizing us by a dream about a swimming Octopus, and imprinting in our memories other wise creatures like a clairvoyant Cat, mysterious Snake, swarm of Bees, magical Horses, and fragile Moth clinging to a lampshade. The black and white style symbolizes the transcendental approach of the film—primal, stripped to the bone, and made bare to take us deeper into Lulu's story with light, shadow, and grain. Synthesizing documentary shooting with dream-like, fairytale imagery, Menkes roams through the psychic closets of her characters, and in the process asks us to do the same for ourselves. Phantom Love is pure cinema, reminiscent of the transformative films of Bergman, Antonioni, Cocteau, and Tarkovksy.

Tapping into the metronome of Lulu's everyday encounters, Phantom Love plunges into its heroine's subconscious to expose the narratives that strangle and trap her—narratives that concern the destructive aspects of Lulu's relationship with her mother and sister, which consequently affect her ability to love and be loved. Few filmmakers have depicted mother/ daughter and sister/sister dynamics with such depth. Nina Menkes artfully presents these relationships as intense ties, which are difficult to cut, impossible to erase, ridden with guilt, and are an endless cycle of resembling reflections. These internal struggles confront and relate to the images of war and destruction on Lulu's television. The distance between Lulu and her TV begins to disappear as the film progresses, eventually culminating in a levitation sequence where Lulu's body explodes, much like the bombs she sees devastating the Middle East. She floats above her bed then looks right at us through the film screen—asking us, if we too feel the same way. Directly following this chilling, but totally courageous moment, Lulu's own nightmares are mirrored in the TV, with the image of a little girl running for her life in a vacant battleground.

Phantom Love moves through darkness to find a light so strong it consumes the last frame of the film—we see visions of serenity, fluidity, and strength as Lulu begins her journey to a new, renewing place on the other side of a mystical bridge.

This film was so disappointing. From the blurb that made me decide to see Phantom Love (why is it called this?)I had expected something arty and thoughtful with beautiful imagery. It did have some interesting images but these often seemed random and made no sense. In fact they seemed like they were inserted to fill in time. In the end the effect was listless.

I believe the film was meant to be atmospheric, but it just wasn't. The lack of a coherent plot did not help matters. You might say it was mysterious, but I think it was just incoherent with no atmosphere.

The main character seemed to be disturbed but the plot did not draw me in enough to care about her situation. Without looking at the cast list I would not have known that you see the main character as a child. The film has very little context for the time, place or character. I am not a prude but the sex scenes (there were several) seemed pointless and confused me further, I recognised Lulu but I was not sure if it was the same man, different men, a lover, her husband or was she a prostitute. It was only when I saw the credits that I discovered the hairy back was meant to belong to her lover. This film did manage to make what should have been shocking (dream sequences involving Lulu's mother) seem a bit boring.

The nail filing actually made more sense, as it did give some indication of Lulu's emotional state. I will not fault the actors as I don't they had a lot to work on.

I do not know if the lack of context or flow in the film was because of ineptitude or because it was pretentious but the end result was dull.

I can't be bothered talking about it anymore.