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New Thoughts On Old Things

[7] Steve Dwoskin Alone (1963)

There's something so undeniably transportative about this. Maybe it is the jittery black and white, or the setting (a double bed in a room); maybe it is the look of low level ennui by the female protagonist. Nothing much happens And this nothingness quietly surges, as the ominous soundtrack signifies something impending, something that might allow her to exit her boredom. The usual expectations of narrative (a beginning, middle and end) are thwarted. We watch her think, we watch her pick her nose, we imagine what she thinks while she is picking her nose. If this were a porn film, you know what would be the cure to this pervading sense of aloneness. As it is, we are left hanging, without denouement. We have to think the ending ourselves.

Alone (1963)
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