10th
Gasman (1997)
A sensitive little Mallick movie that ditches the dialect voiceover in favor of a more rigid dramatic structure. I do love Mallick, Texas-sized target though he is, but it’s refreshing to see a filmmaker who mimics the man’s internal, expressive camera style while leaving behind the philosophy student v.o. ramblings. This short is located on the same Cinema16 dvd that Wasp was contained on, and acts like the good twin to its less-than-saintly one. Lynne Ramsay, a Scot, directed Gasman after graduating from the UK’s National Film and Television School. She was trained as a camera operator and it shows: she’s not afraid of the camera, nor does she fall prey to “I can afford dolly track” master shots. She just uses the camera, quite simply, to get as close to her characters’ skin as possible. At times she creeps beneath it. The film is a short and covers its small grounds completely: a prolific dad takes his kids, two from each mum (four in total) to a company Christmas party. A little girl, played by Ramsay’s niece, anchors the film’s perspective: she’s never met her dad’s other kids before, and can’t comprehend why her father would let a strange young girl sit on his knee. The film exchanges sentimentality for honesty, and ends up producing a stronger emotional resonance as a result: the little girl is allowed to act like a snot, pulling at hair, yelling, screaming and calling names. She reacts the way a little girl would react, with confused anger. We feel for her because she is real, not a plot invention. There are no coached-from-behind-the-camera sad dog looks in Ramsay’s work; this is an actual little girl, with an actually painful revelation on her life’s horizon. Ramsay deserves praise for a lot of things: her camerawork, her editorial choices, and the good-but-not-obvious blocking of her key shots. But above everything, she deserves props for her work with the young actors. They look comfortable with the camera, if not with the scenarios they find themselves in. Directing children may be the most pleasant curse of filmmaking: they arrive on set with none of the tricks or baggage professional SAG carders keep in tow, but that means you can never fly on autopilot around them. Ramsay must have felt deeply about her material to produce this film – it is empathetic and resonant – and along with my accolades for her craft, I salute her for that. As with a child, it is no small thing to love your movie.
