Kindle - a time capsule for my death told in three parts

Behind the long title KINDLE - a time capsule for my death told in three parts hides a 7-minute collage film which marks a new milestone in the successful collaboration between NYC-based artist Martin Del Carpio and I. In the past couple of years, I have designed numerous posters and covers for Martin's shorts (including his latest and most accomplished live-action offering, Auricular Confession) and music singles (such as the one for Si La Muerte), respectively, so I was delighted (and at once, a bit scared) when he asked me to create the visuals for Kindle, immediately after I released my debut animation, Untold. We're both pretty happy with the results of this small experiment, and I hope the viewers will feel our mutual satisfaction. Speaking of the viewers, their discretion is strongly advised, because the second chapter contains some nudity and references to sexual activity.

You can listen to the soundtrack from Martin Del Carpio's official Bandcamp page, HERE.

Auricular Confession (Martin Del Carpio, 2019)

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ out of 10☼

A spiritual sequel to both The Antiteater of Ten and Mother's Milk, the latest effort from Venezuela-born, NYC-raised musician and filmmaker Martin Del Carpio marks a significant milestone in his career. Opening with a dedication to his ailing father, and channeling the spirit of his late mother, Auricular Confession is his most personal work to date, yet it is equally universal in its exploration of innate / essential dualities of human existence. Inspired by the author's Catholic upbringing and imbued with his intense desire to relieve himself of the emotional and mental ballast, this experimental monodrama has a lot to offer.

Once again, Del Carpio orchestrates a successful collaboration with photographer William Murray who provides the film with the exquisitely composed and tightly edited B&W visuals, making the most of a claustrophobic shooting location. An almost empty room furnished with an old chair and table (with the inscription that reads 'in remembrance of me'), and an abandoned bathroom adorned with a stylish lamp are effortlessly turned into a solitary confinement for the unnamed protagonist. Almost certainly the author's alter ego, he is portrayed by Esteban Licht who often bares his all, and in such vulnerable state, pours his soul into a commanding performance ranging from expressionist to mime-like. His enigmatic character can be interpreted as a figure who is simultaneously a saint and a devil, life and death, conductor and the conducted one, which is reflected in minimalist costumes involving a plague doctor mask, inter alia, as well as in props such as tarot cards (The Moon, to be more specific).

Molded by a firm directorial hand, Auricular Confession also boasts a brooding, somewhat esoteric atmosphere established through the great synergy between Murray's adept cinematography and Del Carpio's own music which switches from eerily ambient (Camera Obscura) to - this may sound like an oxymoron - mournfully carnivalesque (El Tirano). Fascinating!

(The review is based on a private screener.)

Mother's Milk (Martin del Carpio, 2017)

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ out of 10☼

In less than three minutes of his poignantly beautiful film Mother's Milk, NYC-based artist Martin del Carpio manages to capture more emotion than some two-hour-long tear-jerkers, and he does so via framing each shot around the wrinkled hands of his (now deceased) mother, as she pensively leafs through an old book and diary, graciously expresses her piety and hesitatingly approaches the box of pills.

Carefully edited by the author's frequent collaborator William Murray and drenched in solemn silence only broken by crackling sounds (think old film projector), the simple, yet highly effective imagery of ethereal black and white transcends its 'ordinariness' and closely approaches the sublime, exuding with heartfelt love for all the life-givers of the world.

Mother's Milk is available on del Carpio's official YouTube channel.

The Antiteater of Ten (Martin Del Carpio, 2017)

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ out of 10☼

NYC-based musician and cineaste Martin Del Carpio speaks of (or rather shows) depression-stricken individuals in his most accomplished effort to date - a moody experimental drama The Antiteater of Ten.

The ten-minute short opens with The Reader (Cherry Fu who also takes credits as a co-writer, producer, costume designer and casting director) - a girl in an elegant goth/widow-esqe attire - turning and then ripping the pages of an entirely black (note)book. As the poetic (non)narrative unfolds, the author challenges the form and uses varied music, modern dance, performance art, over-the-top theatrics and creative editing to embody and emphasize the very (dark) feeling and inner voices that are tearing his characters apart.

Even without having previously read the synopsis about people locked in the cages of their own troubled minds, one can clearly see or sense their internal anguish reflected in the instinctive, highly expressive imagery devoid of color (apart from a polarized 3D-like sequence and the glowing eyes of Dancer Dream) and dominated by deep shadows. Both black and white seem to absorb their cries for help, keeping them within the confines of their (self-imposed) prison, alone and extremely vulnerable. But, who are they? What made them feel that way? Are they still alive or stuck in a limbo, somewhere between life and death? The questions remain unanswered, but that is what is so alluring about this concise (and beautiful!) 'nightmare' which fits somewhere between the cinema of Antouanetta Angelidi and David Lynch.

The film is available for free viewing at Del Carpio's Vimeo channel.