grist

grist is the second film in a planned three-part series of shorts from director Shannon Harris built upon a common saying, which in this case is ‘grist for the mill.’ (The first in the series is THREE birds.) It is the story of Hannah’s breakup with her lover, Roman, over his insensitivity to women’s issues. She is a feminist, he is not. In the words of the director, Hannah ends their ‘situationship,’ while acknowledging “that it wasn’t all a wash.” In a brief five minutes, Shannon Harris establishes a strong female character who can act upon her convictions while acknowledging and owning her sensuality.

Filming during the pandemic with a limited crew, director Harris makes remarkably interesting choices of framing and blocking to depict a relationship that is physically close but spiritually distant. Hannah has reluctantly contacted Roman after their dust-up the night before because he left his phone behind. Their conversation takes place at her apartment door with a brief flashback to their sexual encounter. The threshold visually reinforces the rift in the relationship: he is on the outside, she is on the inside—an inside that is the symbol of her inner self, the space he cannot physically or symbolically penetrate. Their wordless exchange of looks combines framing, performance, and editing into a suspenseful ‘will she or will she not’:

The framing gets tighter as the timing of the looks gets closer.

After Hannah firmly refuses to go back on her decision, Roman tries to enter ‘her space’ forcibly.

Director Harris also reinforces the conflict between the characters in their ‘positionality’ through color. The interior of the apartment is awash in a cream-gold color with splashes of green and red; the exterior shows only the stark white stairs. Though the architecture of the space is a given, the director makes it intentional through the costuming, as Hannah is dressed in a red sweater and blue dress, while Roman wears a dark jacket with just a glimmer of blue-green in his shirt. Visually, she blends with her environment; Roman clashes with it.

How space can be used expressively to articulate relationships is also shown through props, specifically the poster with the word Ciao–Italian for both hello and goodbye–written across it. The significance of the poster is suggested during the first scene as the camera ‘hands off’ from Hannah to the poster on the wall:

The importance of the poster becomes clear as the film ends on the same poster but now from a closer frame:

Thus, the shots of the poster ‘bookend’ the narrative bringing the story and the relationship to a ‘double’ end.

Shannon Harris shows not only a confident heroine but also associates her with Black women who in the past have asserted their rights to their bodies and roles in society. The rift between Hannah and Roman comes about because Roman dismisses the claim by a ‘famous actress’ to have been the victim of domestic violence. Since this exchange takes place in the context of a reference to the book and film of Their Eyes Were Watching God, we are drawn to make the connection between them. More specifically, we can draw a parallel between the use of space to depict a woman’s struggle for independence. In Their Eyes Were Watching God, this conflict is depicted through the open space of the porch and the closed space of the store; Janie enjoys the freedom of the porch, but Joe Starks ‘puts her in her place’ by forcing her to stay inside the store. In the film, there is a particularly poignant scene when Joe orders Janie, who had been talking to a group of locals on the porch, to come inside and insists that she wear a head scarf, thus forcing her into a double imprisonment. In grist, the outside/inside metaphor is reversed: the inside of the apartment is Hannah’s domain; Roman is kept outside on Hannah’s command.

Three Birds

EMILIA V OPINES

Dir. Shannon Harris

THREE birds is the first in a planned three-part series of shorts by Shannon Harris loosely bound by playing upon or, as Harris prefers to say, ‘riffing on’ a well-known saying. Thus, the challenge for the writer/director is to uncover an aspect of the human experience in a commonplace—even trite—idiom. Three birds riffs on the expression ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ which ordinarily implies efficiency and control, but Harris shows us the limitations of this approach to life.  

  Walking briskly to the Library, Stella, the main character played by the director, mutters to herself ‘two birds’ (24:02); she is in a hurry to get the book she had requested and get on with her other tasks. However, in a clever use of the title card, the two is replaced by a three (33.25):

Stella is not in control; something unexpected is about to happen.

The film’s playful tone is accentuated by the use of contrast in the mise-en-scène, framing, and editing.  Though impatient to get her book, Stella holds the elevator for an older man to get on.  The film cuts from her impatient look to an MCU of the shoes of the older man slowly inching his way into the elevator:

woman looking down
44:20
44:21

The use of the P.O.V shot reinforces Stella’s view of the situation; the spectator’s tendency then is to empathize with Stella’s sense of frustration and impatience. In addition, the difference between the two characters is accentuated by the costuming: an older white man dressed in a drab brown sweater and old bluejeans, a young black woman dressed in a bright white/blue outfit:

0:02:38;10

In this shot, in particular, the contrast between the two is further enhanced by the framing.  Known as ‘ the magnetism of the frame’ effect, the technique of placing two characters in conflict close to the borders of the frame instead of along the lines of the rule of thirds increases the visual, hence dramatic, tension.

This moment is also significant because it complicates the time of the narrative.  Stella encounters the older man in front of the elevator three times: the first time, she is on her way to the third floor and holds the door for him (Stella Holds the Door ); the second and third times are two versions of the same event (Stella Meets the Older Man On Her Way Out at 0:02;34,04 and 0:02;49.22 ), but with different resolutions.

The message of the film is also reinforced through the editing.  THREE birds has ‘bookend’ narrative/visual sequences, which provide closure and enhance the unity of the narrative.  The opening sequence, Stella Walking to the Library, is edited in four crisp jump cuts (at approximately 0:14,0:17,0:19, and 0:20) followed by a ‘false’ match-action cut as she enters the library, false because the cut is from Stella’s hand pulling the handle of the first door to her coming through the second door.   The jump cuts dramatize her impatience as she wants to get things done. The ending sequence, Stella Leaves the Library, expresses her sense of a newfound approach to life, with a ‘true’ match-action cut (5:09) as she walks out the door, two dissolves (5:13, 5:17) and fade-out into the ending credits.  The accompanying music also incorporates contrast from a quick, clipped beat at the beginning to a mellow jazzy rhythm at the end to show her change of attitude.

Even at this early stage in her career, Harris’ directing style demonstrates close attention to visual/aural design. In an email, she explains that the choice of costume for the main character undermines the stereotypical image of the ‘mammy’ in a number of ways:

“I’m particularly upending historical representation, particularly, of dark-skinned black women as asexual mammies (Aunt Jemima) – vis-á-vis the short skirt (incidentally with blue-black fishnets); colorful, stylish headwrap; and natural but flattering daytime makeup look with red lip. Likewise, she is gainfully employed outside of the service industry.”

In large part, it is this attention to the complex implications of the mundane that characterizes her style and links her to a long tradition of Black writing and filmmaking.

The full film is available at: 

Three Birds – Reel Women’s Network

Beyond the passage

EMILIA V OPINES

Dir. Terrence Jones

Barely under nine minutes, this short film weaves a delicate story of loss and survival, present and future, and fiction and reality. It starts with a voice-over that establishes the fictional dimension: a grandfather and granddaughter are co-authoring a story about a female warrior intent upon retrieving a magic jewel and saving the ‘Colonel,’ her companion. However, the writing of the story itself takes place within the fictional frame of a post-apocalyptic event: six years have passed, the grandfather-as-narrator intones, and only ‘she’ survived in a world devoid of cars, airplanes, and others. This level of the story is signified by the goggles that the main character wears pushed back on her forehead. Other objects intrude upon the fictional world from the ‘real’ world that will be revealed only at the end of the film: decaying flowers, an abandoned teddy bear, and pill bottles strewn upon a stream bank. Another central object is a simple water bottle, which the protagonist fills with water from a nearby stream in an attempt to heal the grandfather. We are within a story within a story.
This ‘nesting’ of narrative worlds is a complex narrative structure to render on film, since the cinematic image is always perceived by the audience as unfolding in the present of the viewing experience. For Jones, this is more than a narrative device. As we move from one story level to another, the transitions become the visual equivalent of the ‘passage’ in the title. The director explains the multiple meanings of the ‘passage’ as referring to: “the story that she’s writing…The passages in her story go beyond just being fiction; they’re actually based on real events occurring in her life. Her passage (journey) into the unknown to find help for her grandfather. Finally, it also refers to her moving beyond the passing (passage) of her grandfather.”

Visualization

The camera style is straightforward and effective. The film begins with a three-shot montage sequence establishing the desolate natural environment. Soon after, a wipe(0:18) introduces the implied presence of a menacing ‘other.’ An audio bridge(0:29) follows, marking the transition from the exterior of the forest to the interior of a small camper; a cut to the water bottle reinforces the young girl’s attempt to heal the grandfather. The dialogue between granddaughter and grandfather that follows is edited in tight close-ups, emphasizing the bond between the two. Though warned by the grandfather against trying to find help, the protagonist nevertheless ventures into a nearby abandoned town. For the first time, we see her framed through a door, which suggests the presence of an unseen watcher(4:08). An empty merry-go-round and a swing that are still moving sustain the tension. Another wipe (5:05) again suggests the invisible presence of an ‘other,’ but this time we hear a woman’s anguished cries (5:24). Shocked, the protagonist flees back to the safety of the camper; this sequence is shot with a handheld camera and rapid cuts to convey her fear. At this point, the story leads us to the ‘real’ world of the narrative.
Though filmed in color, the muted palette favoring dark greens, browns, and greys give the film a desaturated, almost black and white look. The soundtrack is also quite effective in suggesting an unseen, unknown threat. Finally, the performances, especially of the lead actress, are natural and convincing.

The full film is available at:  https://vimeo.com/107991174/653cf352e0