Sofia Malamute and Matias Figueroa’s black-and-white short Dimensions of Self functions as a visual confession, a despondent, highly experimental glimpse into the mind of a young tortured artist. Cynical viewers will most likely smirk at the pretentiousness: the abstract shots, jarring editing, poetic narration, lack of a coherent plot, the palpable pain of it all. However, the artists/filmmakers manage to get their point across – look a little closer, and there’s real depth beneath the posturing.
A young theater actor, Matthew (Figueroa) is torn up about his future, addicted to pills, delirious, guilty, insecure. He paces in his expensive NYC apartment, unable to sleep. He flushes pills down the toilet. He cries in the bathroom. He screams in hopes that “the sound of pain” will exorcize his demons. “I kill myself every so often,” he confesses, raising his scar-covered wrists.
Dimensions of Self contains quite a few lines of monologue that are as likely to induce snickers as deep rumination. “It’s an act of love, to give in, isn’t it?” Matthew narrates early on. “I lost myself when I found out who I am,” he later states. At one point, he waxes philosophical: “I’m in control of everything but never in control of a single atom or force that formed the universe that I am.” Similar existential soundbites abound.
Conflicting thoughts, narrated by the protagonist, merge and collide, overlapping each other. Close-ups of eyeballs bring to mind Luis Buñuel’s Un Chien Andalou. Matthew sees himself alone on stage, pacing, performing to a crowd of none. In another instance, he’s lying on the street, while crowds of people step over him. Ignacio Ferrarazzo’s eerie symphonic score resembles an orchestra tuning instruments in preparation for a concert, imbuing the proceedings with an otherworldly vibe. Caitlin Machak’s stark cinematography further complements the non-narrative.
The best way to describe the film would be “an angst-ridden treatise on tormented NYC actors.” While it may be difficult for some to relate to the mental trials and tribulations of a wealthy artist, others may discover some keen insights into such an artist’s state of mind. With a little bit more context, this had the potential to be brilliant. As it stands, it showcases a true artist merely sketching as opposed to painting.
