16 August 2026
Saw some more John Smith today at Whitechapel:
Record (2021) The Black Tower (1985-87) Blight (1994-96) Dad’s Stick (2012) Twice (2020) Lost Sound (1998-2001)
The Black Tower is the one still lingering. A simple, intuitive construction from elements that I couldn't help but see as painterly while I watched. I'm first thinking of drawn-out close-up shots of bare blue sky that are then revealed to be a kitchen counter surface or a piece of paper—as the narration and the plot devolve from something linear and trustworthy into a kind of relaxed mania, so do the film's formal elements. I remember one part where the tower's silhouette segments the sky, creating an arrangement of triangles in black and blue, then rhythmically expands and contracts with the sound of footsteps until the blue is compressed into one small triangle in the top left corner, which then also appears to expand and contract as the eye loses track of which shape is the agent of movement. And so I was thinking about painting ground the whole time, of toggling containing edges on and off, how extreme close-up can manipulate perceived distance, and ways to convey proximity. Another way it is particularly successful is that it circles around something that has come up in conversation a lot recently, which I can maybe describe as an acknowledgement of the blind spots inherent to phenomenal perception. Our limits. There are also shots of the same tree viewed from a high residential window: bare in winter, green and full in spring, and having its leaves shorn. Hidden things having happened despite the witness.