It is unequivocally only a black box, though in New York that is zero to sneeze at. Decades after a black-box transformation fought for some-more coherence in melodramatic facilities, such sites are still surprising among vital high-art institutions in a city. And crucially, during slightest during this early stage, a academy is charity performances there during a cost indicate — $20 or so — that liberates audiences from feeling invested (literally) in carrying to like all they see there.
The initial few productions in a BAM Fisher have used it some-more or reduction like a normal theater. So it was engaging to travel into a space on a final evening, Saturday, for a filmmaker Bill Morrison and a composer Richard Einhorn’s designation “The Shooting Gallery” and see a space radically reconfigured. The room was mostly empty, dominated by 8 vast screens set adult around a perimeter.
It is beguiling not to know accurately what we will be walking into when we go to a theater. But if “The Shooting Gallery” represents some of what is probable during a BAM Fisher, it also showcased a risks of too most freedom. Bland and unfocused, with an interactive-technology spin that valid unsatisfying, this 50-minute square grew tiresome.
Those screens were a car for film clips of a character that anyone informed with Mr. Morrison’s distinguished career would fast recognize. He has prolonged explored a moody, evocative qualities of archival footage and ebbing film stock. At his best, as in masterpieces like “Decasia” (2002), he has combined sensual, hypnotizing pathways between a past and present.
The turn of this partnership with Mr. Einhorn, best famous for his oratorio “Voices of Light” (1994), came with a laser pointer that any assembly member was given on walking into a space. The lasers triggered specific video clips and sounds when directed during “targets” on 4 of a screens. In speculation this incursion into crowdsourcing authorised a assembly a grade of submit in a display of a piece; in use it was mostly a mess, with random, unilluminating discerning cuts among clips and a distracting outcome of all those red laser points.
There were moments of “The Shooting Gallery” that were stunning, like a quarrel stage from an aged western that melted into Whistleresque ethereal swirls. One fantastic method was clinging wholly to images of a moon in a night sky: variations on a scarcely epitome theme. Mr. Morrison’s film clips had their evil quick punch, from an charcterised dancing gorilla — surprisingly sinister when fragmented and taken out of context — to a method of footage of floods that was quite unhappy post-Sandy.
But a energy of a images was consistently undercut by Mr. Einhorn’s general music, that ranged from cold piano lines to folksy plucked passages to icy drones. The juncture of loud, honking arpeggios with peaceful vibraphone-sounding ones is a pivotal to Philip Glass’s measure for “Einstein on a Beach.” Derivatives of Mr. Glass are sadly autochthonous in contemporary music, though it was generally disconcerting to hear a same outcome copied in “The Shooting Gallery” only dual months after “Einstein” returned to a academy.
Both a song and a film gave this clarity of rehash. There is always a poignant, scary disturb in a footage that Mr. Morrison unearths, though a pleasures of a images in “The Shooting Gallery” were mostly predictable, reduction an scrutiny of a formidable attribute between benefaction and past than a possibility to measure sentimental points.
Mr. Morrison has pronounced that a work is a “collection of biggest hits from my archives,” and it showed. Despite a veneer of investigation suggested by a interactive aspect, there was small clarity of creation in “The Shooting Gallery.” Instead, it was only one some-more outing down memory lane.