Howl, by Martin del Carpio, is a three minute cri de cœur, a passionate protest by a paper-pushing white collar worker about the economic trap which 21st century workers find themselves in: unpayable debt, skyrocketing prices, the inability to establish even the semblance of stability or security. It’s not a political or economic treatise: the film uses narrative fragments and powerful music and animation by collaborator Martin Gerigk (assembled from graphic elements supplied by Nikola Gocic) to create a poetic expression of the existential despair which results from economic and political powerlessness.
We see shots from the life of an urban office drone, in dreary gray and white: riding an elevated train to work, an office tower shrouded in mist. The narrating titles, taken from the protagonist’s journal, tell a story of money woes, of living perilously close to a financial cliff. We see a street ATM, covered in stickers and graffiti, an image of a vandalized and broken economy.
Gerigk’s sophisticated soundscape is structured to grab your ears with feelings of primal rage: all the sounds, the screeches of subway trains, metallic clanging sounds, are like screams and howls, as if the whole film is an extension of a moment of frustration. He has also created a visual motif which often accompanies these howls: we see the office worker, his tie loose around his neck, beseeching the heavens, a bounced check covering his face. The necktie feels like a noose, trying to strangle him. One of the titles protests "I'm not the only one," underlining the idea that this is a widespread social problem, not a personal misfortune. It suggests the context of a corrupt, dying, murderous form of end-stage capitalism, where a tiny super-rich elite are forcing the rest of humanity into servitude.
The amplified, processed rumble of the train fills us with foreboding, as if telling us that an earthquake or volcano will soon erupt. At another point, we hear vocal sounds which evoke the “throat singing” of Tibetan monks. One could take this as a reference to the Tibetan Book of the Dead, and a reminder of our mortality, that one day, the office worker’s frustrations will pass away, like a dream. But the Book of the Dead is also a depiction of a trapped state, being caught in the endless cycle of death and rebirth. There are wheels within wheels. Indeed, wheels, tracks, and trains are common visual motifs throughout the film.
At one point, we see a beautiful tree with bare branches, an eloquent image of free, unfettered and organic healthy life. But the image of the tree shatters like a mirror. Just so, the life and free consciousness of workers is broken under capitalism, as the free and loving exchange of compassion and creativity between human beings is destroyed, and the hours of our days are reduced to quantifiable units of monetary value, devoid of vitality.
Going up to the elevated train tracks provides the man with, perhaps not a moment of real transcendence, but at least a hint, a dream of his desire for transcendence. It is these moments on the platform, high above the streets, that give him a few free moments to take stock of his situation.
In one sequence of images, he tears open his shirt to reveal a fire in his chest. Clearly his heart is burning with rage and frustration. Coming after the image of the tree, it also evokes the out-of-control forest fires around the world. The outward ecological catastrophe and the inward spiritual catastrophe are simply two manifestations of one widespread illness.
In his last journal entry, he writes "my pride is all I have left," but the words are scratched out, indicating that, really, he no longer has even the pride. Or, if he still has pride, he understands that the pride is not serving him well. We quickly return to the wheel images. Hanging onto your pride = remaining caught in the wheel. It's a trap.
For such a short piece, there are a breathtaking range of ideas, associations, and feelings within the dense, poetic montage. Del Carpio and Gerigk have aimed their artistic microscopes at a single moment of anguish, and uncovered a complex web of personal and social circumstances. At the same time, their expressive skills make the emotional moments poignant and visceral. The result is a short film that will resonate emotionally with many people, and will also provide context and illumination.
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