Deep Fritz, Deep Eddy
Computer Chess (2013)
directed by Andrew Bujalski
rating: 4 out of 5 cravats
watched on Netflix
I couldn't help but understand Computer Chess as a Texas movie, and an Austin movie specifically, in the same way that Primer was as much a film about Dallas to me as time travel. I watched both Computer Chess and Primer by myself on my TV at home, and both times I thought of my relationship to the cities where the movies were filmed but also take place in (although never by name; I'm not sure I ever even saw a telltale license plate). Because I grew up in San Antonio, a day in Austin or Dallas--days in Dallas were very rare--always began with a trip along Interstate 35. Highways are not generic; every routine, every drive has its own identity, and the on-ramps and off-ramps of Austin are important to my memories of the city.
In scenes set on the grounds of the hotel in Computer Chess, busy I-35 is visible in the glass of the lobby door. The humidity is obvious if you recognize it; you can see it in the limp look of the curtains and in the atmosphere of the conference rooms. Bujalski is a Boston transplant, and I don't know how much of the largely nonprofessional cast (who play characters visiting from as far away as Caltech and MIT) comes from Texas, but the brightness and vegetation and interior decorations are unmistakable. As the movie progresses, the tournament increasingly resembles a regional conference more than a national symposium. When Michael Papageorge (Myles Paige by way of Rick Von Sloneker) finally sets out for his mother's house in the hill country, it's hard to believe that everyone doesn't live within fifty miles of the hotel.
I remember the time in my life when I was excited about the release of Mutual Appreciation, but that honestly feels further away than my San Antonio childhood. The men and women in Computer Chess are self-conscious but the writing and direction are confident and naturalistic. Financial assistance from the Austin Film Society made the acknowledgment of Richard Linklater in the credits inevitable, but I looked for it. Computer Chess isn't derivative of Slacker but the humor and warmth of both films is rooted in the same gentle curiosity.
Afterwards, I thought of all the ways that people who make movies and TV shows right now (I kept thinking of people who make comedies) would make Computer Chess, and make it worse. Bujalski's programmers and New Age swingers are strange, unsettling characters, but they are recognizable in so many of the friends and family and acquaintances I know. The role of the uncanny in Computer Chess is critical to its fundamental humanism. While celebrating agency and individuality, Bujalski allows for misery and mystery, and lets those moodier qualities haunt his collected strangers as they will.
directed by Andrew Bujalski
rating: 4 out of 5 cravats
watched on Netflix
I couldn't help but understand Computer Chess as a Texas movie, and an Austin movie specifically, in the same way that Primer was as much a film about Dallas to me as time travel. I watched both Computer Chess and Primer by myself on my TV at home, and both times I thought of my relationship to the cities where the movies were filmed but also take place in (although never by name; I'm not sure I ever even saw a telltale license plate). Because I grew up in San Antonio, a day in Austin or Dallas--days in Dallas were very rare--always began with a trip along Interstate 35. Highways are not generic; every routine, every drive has its own identity, and the on-ramps and off-ramps of Austin are important to my memories of the city.
In scenes set on the grounds of the hotel in Computer Chess, busy I-35 is visible in the glass of the lobby door. The humidity is obvious if you recognize it; you can see it in the limp look of the curtains and in the atmosphere of the conference rooms. Bujalski is a Boston transplant, and I don't know how much of the largely nonprofessional cast (who play characters visiting from as far away as Caltech and MIT) comes from Texas, but the brightness and vegetation and interior decorations are unmistakable. As the movie progresses, the tournament increasingly resembles a regional conference more than a national symposium. When Michael Papageorge (Myles Paige by way of Rick Von Sloneker) finally sets out for his mother's house in the hill country, it's hard to believe that everyone doesn't live within fifty miles of the hotel.
I remember the time in my life when I was excited about the release of Mutual Appreciation, but that honestly feels further away than my San Antonio childhood. The men and women in Computer Chess are self-conscious but the writing and direction are confident and naturalistic. Financial assistance from the Austin Film Society made the acknowledgment of Richard Linklater in the credits inevitable, but I looked for it. Computer Chess isn't derivative of Slacker but the humor and warmth of both films is rooted in the same gentle curiosity.
Afterwards, I thought of all the ways that people who make movies and TV shows right now (I kept thinking of people who make comedies) would make Computer Chess, and make it worse. Bujalski's programmers and New Age swingers are strange, unsettling characters, but they are recognizable in so many of the friends and family and acquaintances I know. The role of the uncanny in Computer Chess is critical to its fundamental humanism. While celebrating agency and individuality, Bujalski allows for misery and mystery, and lets those moodier qualities haunt his collected strangers as they will.
posted by NPK at 8:32 AM
<< Home