Showing posts with label Kriss Schludermann. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kriss Schludermann. Show all posts

15 January 2014

DVD Review - Computer Chess

No comments:

Genre:
Comedy, Independent
Rating:
15
Distributor:
Eureka! Entertainment
BD/DVD Release Date:
20th January 2014 (UK)
Director:
Andrew Bujalski
Cast:
Kriss Schludermann, Tom Fletcher, Wiley Wiggins,
Buy: Computer Chess (Masters of Cinema) (DVD & BLU-RAY DUAL FORMAT)

The year of 1984 proved a seminal time for computer nerds. With Orwell's ideas of the impending doom of the human race becoming more apparent, alongside the release of The Terminator and Revenge of the Nerds, it was certainly a time in history which still conjures nostalgia for those who stayed up into the small hours discussing the future of computer technology and their makers. For Andrew Bujalski's latest work, Computer Chess, revisiting such a time resurrects various hypothesises, pandering to them in a manner which reveals something much more sinister underneath.

Set in a nameless budget hotel over a weekend convention, the film presents a group of obsessive computer software programmers as they attempt to compete for a grand prize for the best computer chess programme. Amongst all the competitive bragging and pot induced ramblings on artificial intelligence, the film reveals a larger frame-work of the relationships and insecurities between its characters and their machines, presenting a surreal de-humanised look of a digital age which has only considered to have been lost as technology advanced over time.

A popular Sundance veteran, Bujalski has usually been seen as the master of the American Indie sub-genre Mumblecore. With film-festival hits such as Funny Ha Ha and Mutual Appreciation within his canon, he has a skilful eye in directing intricate character studies where droll, yet textured, dialogue and interactions from actors prevailed over the main story. Unsurprisingly, Bujalski's idiosyncratic style is regularly compared to that of Cassavetes or Rohmer. However, in a refreshing move, he has broadened his skills, presenting a film that is as nightmarishly unique as anything by David Cronenberg or as complex as Shane Carruth's Primer.

Although the neurotic outsider characters which made Bujalski a significant indie director still prevail, exchanges in dialogue soon create a noticeably more ominous atmosphere once the humorous tone shifts into sci-fi surrealism. Starting off like a mockumentary, the cringe inducing obsessiveness of these characters slowly uncovers a few unsettling ideas once they themselves begin to question the power these machines actually have over them. Having one particular system refusing to operate until its chess skills are actually put towards another human soul, an uncomfortable paranoia lingers over the film. Despite these characters speaking at length about the expansiveness of the circuitry within their computers, their difficulty in emotionally connecting with anybody else - or even understanding what their machines are doing – makes one wonder that while the evolution in artificial intelligence still seems infinite, has the development and intelligence of the human race become more rooted sooner than one would think?

Yet, what turns transforms seemingly standard idea for a character driven piece into a compelling puzzle is in the actual look of the film. Entirely shot on an ancient and cumbersome Sony videocamera (the AVC-3260, incase you were wondering), the fuzzy, black and white footage gives a sense that the film was unearthed from the depths of an old government filing cabinet, deemed completely classified. Amplifying the uneasy atmosphere, the simplicity of the camera movements within the competition, combined with a discreet intrusiveness outside it, works well in creating a secretive knowingness from the man in control behind it. In all its retro simplicity, there is a warped satisfaction in being in on the act. Alongside a 4:3 aspect ratio and an unstable picture quality, it boxes these characters within the claustrophobic labyrinth of the hotel.With no sense of escape from these walls or their (now) imperfect mentality, Bujalski reveals an alternative point of view on the origins and mindset of the 'wired' generation that could still arguably be resonant today. Encouraging the viewer to philosophise over its development and origins from all possible angles, the unsettling conclusion concocts an uncertainty towards the future of these characters. It is not so much that the computer nerds came and conquered, it is just that they unconsciously laid the foundations for a future that is today.

★★★★

David Darley