‘Space Explorers: Taking Flight’ and ‘Beethoven’s Fifth’ (VR Review)

The ups and downs of documentary virtual reality

A 50-second clip of a train arriving at La Ciotat Station was first shown by the Lumière brothers in 1896. For the generations to follow, this train signified the arrival of not only a  new medium, but also the field of cinematography and the genre of documentary film. Indigenous to modernity is the desire to document the highest achievement of technological progress with the state of the art equipment.

‘Space Explorers: Taking Flight’

So a I sink into a chair with a virtual reality headset on, I think of the audience of the first Lumière films. There is a persistent myth that people fled in fear from the train approaching onscreen. After some 123 years, I now am about to witness a space shuttle launch in VR, completely surrounded by the environment in my headset. But technological novelty aside, how efficient is VR when it comes to documentaries? This question is top of mind as I take in Space Explorers: Taking Flight and Beethoven’s Fifth, both of which use 360-degree documentary footage; the former to bring its audiences to places not usually available for the general public, the latter one to show a familiar situation in a new and exciting way.       

Space Explorers: Taking Flight is the second of two parts of Space Explorers, a documentary by Montreal-based Felix & Paul Studios. It is currently a part of the Phi Centre’s exhibition Echo: The Sound of Space. Space Explorers: Taking Flight invites the viewer to travel to the US and Russian astronauts’ training bases, launch pad, and to the International Space Station, all without leaving the comfort of one’s chair. This 20-minute film gives a glimpse into what it takes to be a space explorer, while conveying an important political message: when nations collaborate instead of competing and when the state works hand in hand with the private sector, humanity is able to accomplish so much more.

It feels grand to be confronted with the scale of the operations. As I watch a NASA rocket slowly rolled out on a track, my heart is filled with excitement. When the camera is placed inside Soyuz Spacecraft alongside two cosmonauts preparing for the launch, I can almost physically feel the tightness of the space. I am there! And like a schoolgirl on a class trip to a cool facility, I am only listening to the “tour guide” half-heartedly, devouring the surroundings with wide eyes.

With every VR piece, I ask myself, does this have to be a 360-degree experience? What would it lose if translated to a flat screen? And although the medium of VR doesn’t seem essential to Taking Flight on the first glance, I find myself enjoying the film more because it is in VR. Firstly, the specifics of this technology affect the way Taking Flight is shot and composed. Each scene is a long static shot fading to black in the beginning and end, which minimizes any distraction from the film’s editing.

Editing in live action VR doesn’t abide by the same rules as a two-dimensional film. Unfortunately,  Beethoven’s Fifth (directed by Jessica Brillhart) presented at the same program at Phi Centre, ignores this. This nine-minute “contemplative work” (as described by the exhibit curators) is a tribute to 1977 Voyager launches, twin spacecraft carrying records with music and imagery, intended to represent the pinnacle of human culture. The piece features the footage of London Philharmonia Orchestra playing First Movement of the Fifth Symphony. Shots of the orchestra are filmed from several angles of the rehearsal room and are intercut with signals received from Voyager, visualized as moving blue, plasma-like matter.

In Beethoven’s Fifth, the cuts are made in sync to music, presumably to create a plausible rhythm of documentary footage and video art, but, in actuality, the editing feels like a helpless attempt to make the experience more entertaining. The effect is sometimes annoying, when there is a jump cut from a wide shot to a medium shot through cross-dissolve. With the hands of the conductor and the musicians moving, this kind of transition looks messy and takes the viewer out of the immersed state. Sometime the transition even creates an unintended comical effect. One of the cuts came as I was looking towards the back of the orchestra while standing in the middle of it. One moment I was looking at the musicians, and the next, I was staring at a wall with some microphones stored in the corner—a less than flattering part of the rehearsal room. I was clearly meant to face the other direction, but viewer agency does not seem to have been taken into account.

Facing the “wrong” way is one of the biggest pleasures in Taking Flight. I feel like an explorer in environments and situations where I wouldn’t normally be present. The slow “reveal” of a scene as I look around can be satisfying and give you new visual information. For example, as a  cosmonaut, Alexander Misurkin, narrates about the importance of protecting the crewmembers from viruses before launching into space, I turn my head and notice that he is actually sitting behind glass. It is natural to look at a person during a sit-down interview but occasionally my gaze is prompted to “wander” during the experience, like during an “establishing shot” prior to the interview with cosmonaut Misurkin. All of a sudden I found myself amidst camels munching on a prairie and helplessly looking around for clues. Only the caption “Baikonur, Kazakhstan” appearing a few moments later, clarified the location.

Viewer curiosity is rewarded in Taking Flight. The events, faces, and interior details on the periphery of the main action contain layers of information. Theoretically, you are at risk to find yourself facing a blank wall when transitioning into the next shot, like in Beethoven’s Fifth. But since Taking Flight is narrated, you are unlikely to get lost. Your gaze can follow the voice, which is a less intrusive form of guidance than abrupt unmotivated cuts. I was even tempted to close my eyes during Beethoven’s Fifth and give in to the music, enhanced by a vibrating backpack.

As VR technology develops, it must devise its own language, utilizing advances in theatre, film, animation, and games. Will it become a new world in documentary storytelling? It’s hard to tell. The effect of the presence has leapt forward since the debut of The Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat Station. But funnily enough, the operational method of documentary VR seems

borrowed from Lumière brothers: simply place your 360-degree camera rig in the middle of the action and hit “record.” I am excited to see the visual language of live action VR evolve. Just as space exploration sparks the imagination, the development of this kind of emerging media promises  new modes of perception and interaction. VR has a unique capability of literally putting a viewer in the middle of the action. It would be great to see it used for putting her inside somebody else’s shoes by making her a character, actively interacting or even symply observing. The viewer already has some degree of agency through just being able to look in the direction that she wishes. It is up to the creators of these experiences to collaborate artfully and efficiently with a new creative force: the audience.

(This review was published on NoProscenium.com)   

Conduct An Orchestra of Celestial Bodies with ‘Spheres: Songs of Spacetime’ (VR Review)

The award-winning interactive VR trilogy marries scientific documentary video art

The Canadian premiere of the VR trilogy SPHERES takes place in a cathedral. At least it seems so when I enter the dedicated room at Montreal’s Phi Centre. The award-winning trio of documentaries about the sound of deep space, written and directed by Eliza McNitt and executive produced by Darren Aronofsky, is presented in a truly spectacular way: two rows of suspended glowing hoops meet at the far end of the high-ceilinged room and continue in the reflection of a dark disk which serves as altar. Astonished by this monumental view, I stop a conversation with my companion mid-sentence and step quietly inside a room draped in heavy, black fabric. After my eyes adjust to the darkness, I notice that there is a VR headset descending from the middle of each hoop. A friendly assistant dressed in all black approaches and leads me to one of the available stations, explaining what I am about to encounter.   

   

The three parts of SPHERES, each just under 15 minutes, can be watched in any order as a triptych or separately. The spectacular visual style is artful yet clear enough for the films to be used as an educational tool. The scientific, documentary-style narrative is made poetic by mystic voices and a transcendental soundtrack. The experience is enhanced by interactive elements. The viewer is able to hear the “songs” of planets and stars by pointing at them when prompted using the controllers in their hands. The pointing doesn’t change any of the cosmic events, but I still feel a little bit god-like seeing the trace of my actions on the fabric of the universe.

Chapter I: Chorus of the Cosmos, narrated by Millie Bobby Brown, is the most interactive of the three. Using the canvas of the deep space, I draw auroras and I listen to the electromagnetic waves pulsing between my hands. The central event of Chorus of the Cosmos, the parade of planets in our solar system, is brought into motion by controllers. I am prompted to tap planets to activate and listen to their magnetospheres and then to push them as if starting a giant cosmic watch. As the planets fly around me, I can stick my head in any of them to hear the inner hums of the celestial bodies. The experience of “dancing” with the planets is truly mesmerizing but can have  some tracking issues. In my inspired chase I was constantly hitting the blue grid of the VR border, meanwhile my tall companion had to bend over in order to put his head inside the planets.

Chapter II: Songs of Spacetime, narrated by Jessica Chastain, explains the concept of the black holes and gives a viewer a chance to look inside one of them. The experience is nearly psychedelic. Scientific facts turn esoteric with remarks like “The atoms of our bodies were forged in the heart of stars; we too are made of stardust.” Hearing something like this while being inside the star, and literarily a part of its matter, has a very dramatic effect. Not only does the viewer become a star, but also a black hole, swallowing other stars and “banging on the surface of time” with other black holes. There is even a scene where I was able to  visualize gravitational waves using the sound of my own voice.

Chapter III: Pale Blue Dot (narrated by Patti Smith) is about, you guessed it, the Earth. The viewer travels through time from the Big Bang to the birth of the first stars and formation of galaxies. By pointing two golden “needles” coming out of my hands at glowing stars, I hear their siren songs as they drift by. This part has a slower pace and requires more observance than playfulness from the viewer. I felt a little dizzy as the rings of Saturn were spinning underneath my feet. But this experience feels like  just a pleasant walk in comparison to the wild ride of Chorus of the Cosmos. And since Pale Blue Dot is less dynamic visually compared to Chapters I and II, I found I could can pay more attention to the haunting soundtrack, which is magnificent throughout the trilogy.

In SPHERES, the combination of electronic ambient chords with the imagined sounds of physical interactions of objects in space is seemingly  completely fictional. The meteors swooshing by and crashing into each other couldn’t be heard, because there is no atmosphere in space to carry sound. Or, at least there is no “sound” that we humans can hear. SPHERES invites the viewer to imagine new ways to perceive what we can’t yet grasp.

The interactivity in SPHERES also decreases from part one to three, so watching the trilogy in reverse (as I did) might be perfect for somebody who is new to VR and is looking for a gradual rise of participation. Viewing the parts in reverse order enabled me to start as a human, become a star and a black hole, and then, essentially, God. It is refreshing to take part in this VR adventure, not as a mere human, but as a celestial body or some kind of cosmic energy.

SPHERES invites the viewer to the journey through millions of light years, encouraging the thirst for knowledge and creativity much like space itself, which has long been a source of questions and inspiration for humanity ever since we first acknowledged the skies above us.     

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SPHERES runs at Rockefeller Center in New York City from January 18 through March 3, 2019. Tickets are $50.

[This review was published on noproscenium.com on 1.04.19]

Review: “Chaos Theory”

Jessica Creane tackles the misogyny of the scientific community, sexual liberation and the fear of velociraptors while inviting the audience to play games.

Unlike the randomness generated by a system with many variables, chaos has its own pattern, a peculiar kind of order. This pattern is known whimsically as a strange attractor, because the chaotic system seems to be strangely attracted to an ideal behavior.

Gary Taubes

Jessica Creane in Chaos Theory (in FringeNYC run). Photo courtesy of Jessica Creane.

Upon entering the Mathematical Scientists Annual meetup, we are offered name tags, pretzels, and Oreos, and asked to sign in. When I notice that, in addition to my name and my email, I am required to provide the name of my first crush, I suspect that things might not be strictly scientific. And boy am I right. Chaos Theory, an interactive solo show, developed and performed by Jessica Creane, is back in town. After its initial run at FringeNYC in October, Chaos Theory gets a way-too-short extension at HERE. In a strange way, it's a perfect show for those who’d like to reassess their goals and values before stepping into 2019. But don’t get into a meditative mood—with this blend of games and theatre, it’s about to get a bit chaotic.

The keynote (and only) speaker, Dr. Genevieve Saoch (Jessica Creane), radiates enthusiasm the minute she enters. Her elegant black sheath dress is paired with white heels, silly white ruffle socks, and dinosaur earrings (costumes by Evelyn Langley). This free-spirited woman is passionate in science and love alike, something that has apparently gotten her into trouble and out of her dress on stage. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First, some chaos theory. While I can’t attest to the accuracy of the scientific component, terms like the butterfly effect, fractals, and self-similarity seem familiar. Dr. Saoch refreshes our knowledge about “the science of surprises,” sometimes speeding up to the point where it is impossible to distinguish words. 

To illustrate her point, this Chaologist tells a story about her childhood crush in a mathematical formula, reads poetry, sings, and leads volunteers into games. In one, two teams of four are tasked with drawing a perfect circle. One person on the team must, at all costs, ensure that the circle is drawn, while another person is tasked with preventing that. The third person is told to perform the minimum work and take all of the credit, and the fourth person doesn’t care about the circle at all—their only task is to seduce everybody in the room. Sounds a lot like a dysfunctional scientific research group.

When it comes to human relationships and the ethics of the academic community, it is not always clear what is orderly and what is chaotic. In another “game” the audience is encouraged to yell “order” or “chaos” at different objects and events Saoch calls out. But the hubbub and laughter quiets down as the survey becomes a confession. Is it “order” or “chaos” when the “room full of penises” at a cigar club determines who gets to be published? Or when, because of a single embarrassing incident, a female researcher loses her career while her male counterpart gets glorified? 

During this scene, Saoch stands in front of the audience completely naked and vulnerable, clenching the clipboard with her shaking hands. This after a spontaneous disrobing that is empowering and freeing—while talking about a sex game involving a velociraptor (don’t ask). Science, much like romance, can lift you to a new plane of existence. But when the variable of the institutional “order” comes into the equation, be it academia or the patriarchy, one might be smacked on the concrete, crushed by the powerful. Luckily, there are ways to conquer crippling depression, like moving towards your passion, however strange it is, and forming community bonds along the way. 

For the last part, Dr. Saoch presents the concept of “Strange Attraction” and invites the entire audience on stage. This becomes highly interactive and potentially quite personal, but anybody can opt out by using the safe word “dildo.” On the surface this might all seem like a bunch of nonsense tasks, but the sheer silliness of these games, as well as of Chaos Theory overall, has a refreshing, even life-assuring, aftertaste. Jessica Creane gives an electric performance and is especially good when she interacts with the audience (which is all the time). Creane extends her invitation to play even after the show via Instagram, and in the back of the program is the game “At Any Point A Velociraptor Might Enter This Room.” Chaos Theory is a phenomenally successful theatrical experiment, and I hope to see this Philadelphia-based artist back in New York soon.

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Chaos Theory plays at Here Arts Center, 145 Sixth Avenue, through December 20, 2018. The running time is 75 minutes with no intermission. Performances are 12/18-12/20 at 8:30. Tickets are $20. For more information and to purchase tickets visit here.org and ikantkoan.com.

Chaos Theory is written and performed by Jessica Creane. Directed by Joseph Ahmed and Amy Blumberg. Costume and Prop Design by Evelyn Langley.

Review: “NERVOUS/SYSTEM”

This technological marvel with an incredibly successful lead performer is necessary shock therapy for every millennial.

Nobody ever has time for a survey on the street, especially if the questions are along the lines of “How jazzed are you about the state of the sun?” and “How many lovers do you currently have?” NERVOUS/SYSTEMinvites its audience to see the world from a perspective of a pollster who becomes an unexpected and poetical allegory of a modern urban millennial. T.L. Thompson (who uses the pronouns they/their) nails the lead character in this experimental theatre piece, written, directed and designed by Andrew Schneider. But it is the tech, namely lighting and sound, design that steals the show. I came out of the theater shaking as if I’d been shocked a dozen times. But the visceral physical experience is so meticulously designed, and so seamlessly woven into the narrative, that I would gladly subject myself to this electric chair of a play again.

TL Thompson and Kedian Keohan in NERVOUS/SYSTEM. Photo by PC Rebecca Smeyne.

We first meet the main character through their voice, reading from a long list of questions. The stage area between two opposite sections of the audience is empty. Only slivers of light are thrown across it from behind the wings, turning on and off with a click, like slide projectors in the hazy air. This hypnotic dance of light goes on for a while, contrasted by the soothing voice of Thompson. The warmth, liveliness, flirtatiousness and power embodied in their timbre will keep clashing against the mechanization of life throughout the show, which balances between theatre, performance, and light/sound installation.

It’s hard to put a finger on what exactly happened to the unnamed pollster, but something broke inside of them. In the myriad half-encounters on the street, they met somebody and then somebody went missing. There might have been a mass shooting at a party, or a plane crash. And maybe others might be more successful in piecing this story together. But the choppy structure is timely and atmospheric—of value by itself. The less-than-a-minute-long scenes race as swift as thoughts. Sharp blackouts cut off dialogue and TV announcements mid-sentence. But these aren't your regular cozy blankets of darkness, descending softly like in most theater. Schneider’s darkness is that of a black hole, of nothingness, and it feels like the air is sucked out of the room along with the light for a second or two. This must be how a sudden loss feels.

Something is eating the protagonist, as their life feels like “a list of what’s happening with no emotional connection to it.” But according to their shrink, it’s just a sign of our time; everything else appears to be normal. The stage gets emptied of scarce furniture after each of the many psychotherapy sessions during the “blink” of darkness. And then, under the penetrating white light, the street life resumes, portrayed by the cast members storming across the stage. A girl in a wheel chair runs away from her aide, a hipster comes from a grocery store, a woman falls down unconscious and unnoticed: it's the flow of city life, surreal and familiar at the same time. This same sequence is performed every single time with vigor and precision. 

It’s hard to tell if we are in a groundhog day of the depressed pollster’s monotonous life or if we are stuck in their head, scrolling through the memory of one day over and over again, the day of the encounter with the girl (Kedian Keohan). The song bleeding out of her headphones has its own rhythm, making her invincible to the ever-rushing environment. The sound design plays an equally important part—its nuance and three-dimensionality is breath taking. At times the sound is so violent that it shakes the chairs; other times it is subtle and lyrical, like a soft song leaking out of somebody’s headphones. NERVOUS/SYSTEM is a case of sound design not simply enhancing the verbal narrative, but actually moving the story forward.

NERVOUS/SYSTEM is all about rhythm, patterns, and how we break them in order to preserve our human nature. The show is at times physically uncomfortable because of the lighting, especially during the second part of the prologue, when the rapid switches of complete darkness and the razor-sharp light are first introduced. However Andrew Schneider and his associate director Alicia ayo Ohs use this dramatic effect to the fullest extent. The ominous stop-motion scene of bodies laying face down is one of the most disturbing and hauntingly beautiful things I’ve seen lately.

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NERVOUS/SYSTEM played at BAM Fisher, 321 Ashland Place, December 12 through 15, 2018. The running time was 70 minutes with no intermission. Tickets were $25. For more information visit bam.org and andrewjs.com.

NERVOUS/SYSTEM is written, directed and designed by Andrew Schneider. Associate Director/ Community Accountability Coordinator is Alicia ayo Ohs. Associate Lighting Designer is Chu-hsuan Chang. Associate Sound Designer is Sadah Espii Proctor. Sound Engineering by Duncan Woodbury. Stage Manager is Marisa Blankier. Commissioned by LUMBERYARD Contemporary Performing Arts Center.

The cast is T.L. Thompson, Lindsay Head, Antonio Irizarry, Kedian Keohan, Peter Musante, Ashley Marie Ortiz, Jamie Roach, Kate Athol, Chelsea Barker, John Gutierrez, Cecillia Lynn-Jacobs, Talia Paulette Oliveras, and Kendall Cafaro.