NOT EVEN FOR A MOMENT DO THINGS STAND STILL
Art as catharsis happens when we have no words. It is one of the innumerable reasons we create. In September 2021, artist Suzanne Brennan Firstenuerg made something that would stun the country. She planted a white flag on the National Mall for each person who had died of Covid-19 in America. The reaction was nothing short of awe-inspiring.
You can see the momentary panic on the faces of friends, family, and frontline workers wondering where to place their small white flag in an eventual sea of over 700,000. We hear the intimate audio, prayers, sobs, and send-offs that no person dreams of giving in this way. Beyond that, the sound design is simple, the wind blowing gently against each tribute. The result is like the sound of the ocean. The title serves as a triple entendre, echoing the relentless tragedy of the ever-evolving virus, the flapping of the flags, and the words of the Japanese Death Poem by Seiju.
Not even for a moment
do things stand still; witness
color in the trees.
Even though we’re watching on a screen, the vastness of the piece is never lost. The visual impact is visceral. Somehow, this representation is almost a better reference to those who still deny the virus existed in the first place. While those minds may never change, those living in reality can feel the massive impact of this monument. NOT EVEN FOR A MOMENT DO THINGS STAND STILL is 15 minutes of collective grief. It is one of the most powerful short films I’ve ever had the privilege to experience. And it is precisely that, an experience.
Director/Writer: Jamie Meltzer
Producers: Annie Marr, Jamie Meltzer, Suzanne Brennan Firstenberg
Editors: Jamie Meltzer, Annie Marr
Cinematographers: Mario Furloni, Melissa Langer
Sound Design: Dave Cerf
TRT:
Country:
The original music by The Halluci Nation and vocal performances by Tanya Tagaq are electrifying. It vibrates off the screen. During the opening credits, I stood up and danced in my kitchen because it was so infectious. The special FX makeup and CGI are startling. But it is the performances from this fresh young cast that pulls you into the narrative. These kids are stars. The emotional upheaval is all too familiar as they struggle with hormones, racism, and, in this instance, aliens. While most of us don’t have the alien experience in our back pocket, we can all agree that pre-teen to teenage years was complicated. The dialogue from writers Nyla Innuksuk (who also directs) and Ryan Cavan almost feels improvised. They have nailed the jargon of youth. The cinematography is breathtaking. Even if the characters aren’t impressed with the landscape, the audience unmistakably experiences the natural grandeur of Pangnirtung.
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