castle of hallucinations
by Douglas Messerli
Gregory
J. Markopoulos, “The Films of Gregory J. Markopoulos: Bliss and Gammelion /
Redcat (Roy and Edna Disney/CalArts Theater, at the Walt Disney Concert Hall,
Los Angeles, Monday, April 6, 2015
Kirk Alan Winslow has described the
process: “A single roll of stock was run back and forth inside the camera
apparatus, while carefully selected passages of frames were laid down
(exposed), sometimes alone, sometimes upper-imposed or faded-in and out, at
precise positions pre-determined by the filmmaker.” This new type filmmaking
was described as a “portrait,” the sitters for which might be either individual
persons or, as it is in Bliss, a place. Indeed, the beautiful images of the church
presented over the period of six minutes do truly result, to the attentive
watcher, in a kind of “bliss” which reminding one, in part, of the last scenes
of Andrei Tarkovsky’s great film of 1966, Andrei
Rublev—although without the ravishing embracement by the camera that
defines the great Russian director’s relationship with the art he depicts.
Given
the twisted combination of love and death of Harry and Caresse’s own life,
Markopoulos’ “narrative” might almost be suggestive of their relationships,
but, in fact, the story the director implies in this work is based on French
writer Julien Gracq’s beautiful, slightly surrealist love fable, The Castle of Argol, a work about which
I wrote in My Year 2005. I’ll briefly
repeat the plot:
Gracq’s work is, on level, a highly
romantic homoerotic tale.
A young man of great wealth and intelligence, Albert, purchases
a castle and the surrounding landscape. He moves into Argol and
immediately perceives its mystery and magic-like surroundings,
particularly the nearby forest of Storrvan, which appears as a
threatening overgrowth of towering trees. Suddenly he receives
a message that his dear friend and soul-mate Herminien is
planning a visit—along with a stranger named Heide.
Herminien and Albert, who have roomed together as students,
see themselves almost as twins, each able to intellectually stimulate
one another beyond the range of all others, and each able to read
one another’s deepest thoughts.
As Albert prepares for their arrival, he visits the nearby desolate
seashore, discovering there a graveyard. On the surface of one
tombstone he inscribes the the name of the strange visitor, Heide.
Clearly, Heide is already an intruder, but upon her arrival he is
mesmerized by her beauty and intelligence. Over the next months,
a deep relationship develops between the two, galling and festering
hatred in Herminien, who simultaneously recognizes that he has
brought Heide to Albert for his friend’s tacit approval and for sharing
his love for Heide.
But Albert also seems strangely aloof and cold with regard to Heide’s
sexuality. One afternoon Heide and Herminien sneak away into the
forest, failing to return by sunset. Intrigued and almost hypnotized by
their disappearance and forest itself, Albert follows them into the dark
woods, only to discover the body of Heide, brutally raped by his friend.
He takes her back to the castle and nurses her to health. A long time later,
they both follow a cleared path through the forest and discover the body
of Herminien, who has been thrown by his horse. He too is returned to the
castle and restored, but a new hatred develops in Albert regarding him.
Heide remains secluded in her room, obviously unable to face either of
them, while Herminien and Albert return to their intense conversations.
Heide commits suicide, and they bury her in the seaside graveyard.
Herminien determines to leave, but Albert follow him into the woods,
putting a dagger into his side.
This story, quite obviously, never appears in Markopoulos’ film. Earlier in the decade he had explored the site as a possible setting for what he hoped would be a feature-length adaptation of Gracq’s work.
A young man of great wealth and intelligence, Albert, purchases
a castle and the surrounding landscape. He moves into Argol and
immediately perceives its mystery and magic-like surroundings,
particularly the nearby forest of Storrvan, which appears as a
threatening overgrowth of towering trees. Suddenly he receives
a message that his dear friend and soul-mate Herminien is
planning a visit—along with a stranger named Heide.
Herminien and Albert, who have roomed together as students,
see themselves almost as twins, each able to intellectually stimulate
one another beyond the range of all others, and each able to read
one another’s deepest thoughts.
As Albert prepares for their arrival, he visits the nearby desolate
seashore, discovering there a graveyard. On the surface of one
tombstone he inscribes the the name of the strange visitor, Heide.
Clearly, Heide is already an intruder, but upon her arrival he is
mesmerized by her beauty and intelligence. Over the next months,
a deep relationship develops between the two, galling and festering
hatred in Herminien, who simultaneously recognizes that he has
brought Heide to Albert for his friend’s tacit approval and for sharing
his love for Heide.
But Albert also seems strangely aloof and cold with regard to Heide’s
sexuality. One afternoon Heide and Herminien sneak away into the
forest, failing to return by sunset. Intrigued and almost hypnotized by
their disappearance and forest itself, Albert follows them into the dark
woods, only to discover the body of Heide, brutally raped by his friend.
He takes her back to the castle and nurses her to health. A long time later,
they both follow a cleared path through the forest and discover the body
of Herminien, who has been thrown by his horse. He too is returned to the
castle and restored, but a new hatred develops in Albert regarding him.
Heide remains secluded in her room, obviously unable to face either of
them, while Herminien and Albert return to their intense conversations.
Heide commits suicide, and they bury her in the seaside graveyard.
Herminien determines to leave, but Albert follow him into the woods,
putting a dagger into his side.
This story, quite obviously, never appears in Markopoulos’ film. Earlier in the decade he had explored the site as a possible setting for what he hoped would be a feature-length adaptation of Gracq’s work.
Yet, anyone acquainted with the Gracq
work cannot help but be reminded of the hallucinatory quality of the book
itself, as each of the fiction’s figures attempt to make sense of and
comprehend each other and their relationships within the confines of Albert’s
castle. If Markopoulos’ work can at all be described as a narratively coherent
work, it is in its procedures rather than in terms of characters or plot. Indeed
there are no characters and there is no story to Gammelion except of the viewer’s own making. And yet, I came away
having the feeling that I had experienced a near mystical tale, my eyes still
blinking for the intrusions the screening purposely had put upon any of my own determined
intentions to connect. The logic of the conscious mind, quite obviously, are
suspect.
Los Angeles,
April 7, 2015
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