At first you can see on the screen just this: a bunch of
letters composed in a strange way. It's hard to combine
them into meaningful words, because these words seem
quite strange. The most strange is the triple S. This is
a rarity, great rarity, something unique. For the first
time you can see three consonants together, in one
cluster. Probably the effect of hissing is not the point
here, because this is not the fable about a snake, quite
popular in the beyond-fence countries. So you begin to
suspect this strange arrangement is not accidental – it
seems to be in a relation to what will appear on the
screen after. This is what can happen in the case of
titles. Sometimes the title part is more interesting
than the film itself. We shall see what will happen. If
the title part is almost a separate film, it is as a
rule different than the main film. So you can expect
that these letters will disappear and something totally
different will appear on the screen. And you are right –
something different will appear, however not totally
different: although the letters are replaced with
pictures, the screen is still divided into the same
number of squares. And the number of the squares is
twenty seven. This is not so due to the number of
letters. Because the number of letters is not
accidental. There are twenty seven aspects of everyday
life in Bookina Fassso. What are these aspects? Well, it
would be the easiest to make the list of them, for
example: starvation, thirst, food, constipation,
diarrhoea, too-many-spices... and so on – more or less.
Something of that sort. Wouldn't it be indignant?
Wouldn't it mean we doubt in the basic mental abilities
of a spectator, we fear that the audience could not to
decipher the most simple associations and metaphors? It
would. So you have to toil and torment a bit. But only a
bit. The task won't be really difficult, and you will
need forces for other puzzles and problems. The
composition of the screen (though there is nothing
special and unusual in it – this is a well known effect,
however has never been thought of so consequently that
transformed from an effect into a principle) indicates
you will have to deal with some other formal rigours of
fundamental importance for the whole film. And this is
really so. You will notice later there are no actors.
Neither professional, nor amateurs. Ordinary monitoring
cameras have been installed in twenty seven places –
they are not hidden. Everybody knows they are and nobody
suffers of it, like nobody pays attention to cameras
installed in a bank or mall, unless he has bad
intentions. Twenty seven films shown simultaneously on
one screen are just ordinary recordings of what's going
on within the scope of a single camera from the dawn
till the dusk. The cameras have been installed neither
haphazardly nor intentionally, according to an exact
plan. Each camera was installed at night by a group
consisting of three workers, and they had only two hours
to make everything work properly. So, within two hours
the team had to find the place which seemed for them to
be right and install the camera. There had been no
pre-sellection. The teams made no agreements, so it
might happen they installed the cameras one beside
another or one in front of another thus making them
observe each other. There was no time to check
everything properly, so errors and troubleshooting were
not a surprise and caused nobody's irritation. Anyway,
it is one of the aspects.... gosh! I was not to reveal
the aspects! .... Next night the cameras were moved to
some other places, to record the next day in Bookina
Fassso. I draw your attention that installing cameras in
the dark is one of those formal rigours which is a
result of the accepted principle of limited
accidentalness and limited premeditation. The recorded
material has not been edited or mixed, nothing has been
cut away, nothing has been added. The only technical
operation made was to put twenty seven films together on
one screen to enable watching them at the same time.
However it doesn't mean the whole collected material has
been used in the films. We don't know how many days have
been recorded. At least more than a dozen, so EVERYDAY
LIFE IN BOOKINA FASSSO consists of the first few days;
EVERYDAY LIFE IN BOOKINA FASSSO 2 consists of the middle
few days; EVERYDAY LIFE IN BOOKINA FASSSO 3 consists of
the last few days. Provided that there will be the
sequels. Yet it must be provided so, because sequels
seem inevitable due to the inevitable success of this
film. Why inevitable? Because it is the cheapest
revolution in the history of cinematography! Even a cheaper variant could be possible.
There's only one camera. It is installed by the rules
described above. Next night the team moves it to
another place. The team doesn't watch the material
recorded during the day, nor the members can ramble
and hang around Bookina Fassso when the camera is
working not to make any spot catch their eyes... But
it is not so sure whether this variant is cheaper, due
to much longer production. The sequels are
inevitable also due to some other reasons. The first
part hasn't solved the fascinating mystery of triple S.
Well, it eliminates the well known, among the
beyond-fence peoples, fable about a snake, and suggests
it may be an attempt to avoid not nice associations with
ASS, however it is only a suggestion and suspicion,
nothing that could satisfy us.
So, what does the everyday life in Bookina Fassso look
like? Hard to tell. This is caused by the fact the film
shows only a few days. And we don't know what their
relation to other days is – they could be extremely
stormy or extremely calm. It could be raining and
somebody watching the film could come to the conclusion
Bookina Fassso is unacceptably wet country, while it is
really very dry country where rain is quite rare
phenomenon, an anomaly surprising all inhabitants
enormously, even stupefying them. This obstacle may be
overcome if all 365 days were be recorded. Unfortunately
it only would seem so. One can't tell much about other
years, which may differ significantly from each other.
Let's assume that a few days we have is a sample enough
representative for a period between two catastrophes,
assuming also that after a catastrophe the country comes
back to the life style from before the catastrophe, what
may be a wrong assumption although based on well
documented, many years long observations – also well
documented is the opposite assumption about the
catastrophe being a turning point in the history. And
what has been revealed? The inhabitants of Bookina
Fassso write books. All of them. Everywhere. All the
time. Yes. They do nothing else – they only write books.
Or they pretend they write.
I wonder what catastrophe made them write books. I also
wonder what catastrophe will make them stop to write and
what they will do instead. Will they read what they have
written?
OK. It's enough of considerations so introductory and so
unnecessary. Let's take a look at the square number 25.
What can we see? Well, what is it? A floor? What kind of
a floor: clay? wooden? dirt? pavement? tiles? ….. or
maybe it's a street? a yard? a path? ....... so wide?
there are no paths so wide – a path must be narrow,
otherwise it's not a paths - - - - So this is a road. Or
a large square. Flat and smooth. Rather smooth. With no
bumps. Doesn't remind the moon surface at all. No
rubbish. No dried leaves. No broken twigs. No crumbs. No
shells. Clean. So clean and empty like a blank page.
Like a rough paper sheet. But nobody is writing on it.
Nobody writes anything using no pen or pencil or a
simple stick. Lifelessness. A sort of. All-grasping
stupor and paralyse. Let's run away from here ...... The
square number 4. A window. Overlapping images. A street
and a room reflecting in the window pane. An empty
street and an empty room. Nobody is walking along the
street. Nobody is sitting in the room. And nobody is
writing. Neither in the room, nor in the street. While
one could crouch at the wall, take a sit on the
threshold, on the stairs and write. Describe this
street, for example ...... And the square number 8?
Nobody is writing there, either. Something is
flickering. Something is pulsating. Something is
whirling. A crowd? Dancing crowd? The crowd is dancing.
Or rushing frantically. But not writing. Or writing with
itself. Composing itself in a letter. Another and
another. But we can't see it. We can only guess. We
would like it to be so. But we can say or write nothing
that would not be attributed with wishful thinking – all
we can see is swarming ........ Fourteen? Ten? Eleven?
Nobody is writing. What's going on? Maybe it's too
early? Maybe it's a break? Maybe they think and
meditate. Make plans. Have hidden themselves not to be
seen. Writing is an intimate process, very intimate. Or
maybe they have run away. But they will come back. Let's
wait. Let's look carefully. Maybe it will compose itself
in something big. Like a school of little fish can
create a giant fish ...... And a giant fish transforms
itself into a cloud and flies across light grey sky, bit
bluish, pale and gleaming ...... And it falls into a net
of branches and twigs of old fruit trees in the orchard
which slowly changes into a forest, into a jungle ......
a spontaneous forestation of the orchard ....... and
they don't write about it. Nobody writes anything.
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