Show Review:

Burning Man 2020
Burning Man Film Festival
Aug 21-23, 1998

Lights......Camera.........Earth......Atomizer.......

Rumbling sound of buss and drums reverberating off the roll up door of
our warehouse.  Herr Jenerik strolling out into the warm caress of a perfect
fog free evening.  Black army pants, black T-shirt with white skull,
black army jacket draped over shoulders, sunglasses, silver metal martini glass
in hand,  vodka warmth slipping into the movie star.  Exploding cacophony
of silver movie star freaks and pounding rhythms emanate from the
Cyberbuss and dominate the third street dogpatch.  Sex kitten Maria in skin tight
black and silver, slides onto the buss.  I make them wait.

Rolling up Sixteenth street, CybersAM at the helm, martinis shaken a
second time by the railroad tracks, waves of smoke undulating in rhythm to the
beauty of skin on skin, Corneal Cody lounging in a lugubrious superstar
pile of bodies.  Freaks in silver and black accosting all fortunate
enough to come within our grip outside the Roxie Movie Palace.  Robie, Mateo
and Sam on drums, the gyrating bodies of Kathy, M, Maria, Cody and Cyrus
making love to the cameras of the paparazzi.  The buss engulfs the theater,
sidewalk, and street.  Smiles and elevated pulses apparent in all.  Two
hours of drumming, freaking, autograph signing and star posing on the
imaginary red carpet.  The doors open, we flow in, around, over and
through the theater.  Tonight we own the town.  Do movie stars get in for free?

Herr Beal attempting to get our attention turns into a five minute
scream fest.  Quick announcement and the lights drop to the 1700 frame pulse of
Chuck Cerino's Burning Man 95 cutup.  Some love it, some get dizzy.

Black.

Playa devolves onto the screen, more cheers, French crew doing the
basic, same, done before, identical,
psudo-boring-we-were-there-and-interviewed-a-bunch-of-uninteresting-drug-indu
ced-naked-freaks-documentary.

Black.

And slam...... The audience is hit with, NOT a documentation as a
replication of the event, which only looks at the energy and essence of
Burning Man.  But "THE" energy and essence of Burning Man.  It's
apparent from the start that the film, unlike all of the other burning man
films, is
about the "film", only referencing the festival as the context within
which
the action occurs.  The visual and compositional structure flowed with a
perpetual amplification of the physical excitement of the audience.
Visual
shifts of color and motion going beyond words.  More screams and cheers
each time a cyberfreak or Jenerik hits the screen.  All indifference,
waning enthusiasm, and jaded natures are expelled from the theater like
a priest shoving a crucifix down a vampires throat.  Contrast in the film
of those that know from those who don't, separates, elevates and explains
in a way that is of interest to even the most hard core playa veteran.

Another bomb drops and I'm in shock as to what you did in editing together the
Scot Jenerik/F-Space section.  Whoever edited that is GOD!!!!!  You took what I had
considered some mediocre performances and launched it into the
stratosphere.  My favorite line right now is "There are only two types
of music and art.  That which produces orgasm and that which does not".
I came all over the theater seat in a blissful gush of finally seeing my
performances from the same perspective as that of the audience.  There
was no documentation of the performance, it was a complete and utter
transference of energy and passion.

More screams from the rowdy freaks,
and then laughter in disbelief as the flambe' illuminated faces of the
Swedish bimbos gaze in wonder at the burn, operatic echoes dispelling
all energy from the film like aforementioned priest.  Mateo screaming out "I
know more about burning man than those two bimbos, and I've never
been!".
Vegomatic fire and festival wrap up struggling with the audience to
regain their blissful footing, then whammm like a brick through the teeth the
barbie dolls are waxing un-eloquent about what "IT" means.

Black

Massive applause, the lights come up and over and over the phrase that
circulates the room, "that was fucking amazing, I sure hope the film
crew got laid by the Swedish girls".
 

Back out on the streets, alcohol, smoke and excitement are pulsing in
rhythm with the drummers.  Two locals pull out their guitars and jam
along. Random strollers pause to dance, smile and laugh.  Small groups of playa
dwellers, bent heads in discussion.  Were the Swedish girls a good
contrast of how the straight spectators attend the festival, or should they be
cut from the film.  Most view that yes regardless of the "no spectators"
slogan there are an awful lot of spectator types at burning man. If they aren't
represented the uninitiated would see the festival as nothing more than
a bunch of drug crazed naked freaks (which is apparent from some of the
interviews in the film).  Most agree however, that the section of the
burn sucked.  There was no energy and the movie collapsed at that point.
More drinking and whatnot.  Back on the buss for the redistribution of the
movie stars into their daytime personas.  The playa and home is all of a week
away.

Drop + Roll

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            Scot Jenerik <jenerik@23five.org>

      23five Incorporated     Mobilization Records
        www.23five.org        www.mobilization.com

   PO Box 460951 ±± San Francisco, CA ±± 94146-0951 USA
   415-285-6003  ±±  Fax c/o Maria Jenerik 415-995-6867

     Scot's site: www.geocities.com/SoHo/Lofts/2305
            F-Space: www.mobilization.com
        targoodie: www.geocities.com/Baja/2382/
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