Layne and Sicha, May 1st 2009 – An Analysis
Published: May 03, 2009
In a deliberate nod to the Malaysian New Wave, this week’s episode features Ken Layne seated at a rather portentous angle, demonstrating from the start the serious nature of “the conversation” between himself and Choire Sicha. Again, the traditional narrative is broken apart with the free-wheeling nature of the dialogue – Sicha rolls on the floor like a child overdosing on hormone replacement therapy, while Layne revels in multiple layers of absurdism by conducting his “half” of “the conversation” from a stable. Is there an underlying point to be garnered by the use of a “stable” in these rather unstable times? Layne’s “location” is referred to in several instances, but, like Rene Clair’s “Ballet Mecanique” (1924), we are left to make the connection ourselves.
This week the symbolism is readily apparent – the mask. The mask, although presented to us as early as the first frame (echoes of Chekhov at speed?), drives our concentration towards the eyes (and sometimes the ears) of our two protagonists. Both men are bearded, but both beards are hidden, stolen away from our line of sight by “the mask”. This forcing of the mise en scene, presented to us without instant comment, speaks volumes about the danger we as the “viewer”, currently face. The “mask” therefore hides the danger we “face”, as the “face” is partially obscured by the “mask”.
The episode begins with an alert. Obviously placed on the soundtrack in post-production, it’s alertness predicates the conversation by some seconds. We are instantly aware of a sense of alert, but about what? Our question is answered in little more than a moment – Layne sports what appears to be a headscarf stolen from a Russian child at the height of some un-named conflict (a neo-Eisenstein comment on Grozny perhaps?) while Sicha wears the more common surgical mask coupled with what appears to the type of safety glasses worn by bored children in a science class. Are we to infer that Sicha has the more important input of scientific rationale?
The conversation begins with the usual absurdist to-and-fro between our protagonists, but after a minute, we see Sicha rolling on the floor, naked from the waist down apart from what appear to be shorts more suited to a man half his age. We get a glimpse at his inherent manliness as he spins towards the camera, and possibly a shot at his barely-covered testicles. Is Sicha presenting us with a somewhat unconscious attempt at provoking a sense of machismo – perhaps redolent of early Ford?
As the conversation continues, Layne presents some household goods he is apparently protecting himself with – an obvious attempt at bringing the swine flu crisis closer to all our homes, our apparent “safe places“. Sicha, on the other hand, plays the concerned clown, by attempting to smoke through his surgical mask – an anachronistic feel-good moment for us all – he visualises his comment on the end-times and the inherent maladies within human society.
As the conversation tails out, we hear crashing noises behind Layne, and he vocalises his fears at being “found”. The preceding to-and-fro, reminiscent of Truffaut at his lightest, now becomes darker, as we realise the fear that Layne must be feeling. Sicha comments about continuing his yoga session – almost laughing at the predicament of his compatriot. With his mask askew, he’s positioning himself as devil-may-care, but the “yoga” comment could mean many things. Is Sicha really doing “yoga”, or is he trying to contain his fear by continuing to behave as “normal”? Does “yoga” explain why he was wearing shorts? And if so, why not wear sweat-pants like an adult? Is “yoga” a term for something else? Crying? Belligerence? In fact, we ask ourselves – is “yoga” real or even useful? Indeed – is “yoga” “normal”?
The episode concludes with deliberately poor “special” effects – Layne’s screen distorts, colour infuses, floods the frame, the crashing noises fill our ears – we’re reminded of early Spielberg crossed with an unknown adjunct of German Expressionism – “PinnacleVideoism” perhaps? The conversation, once stilted, abstract (though relentlessly moving forward) ends on a low-note, with Layne echoing Cormac McCarthy and Beckett with his final, personally apocalyptic line:
“I’ve got to get back on the road again – they’re onto me”
Sicha continues to smoke, the frame wobbles, and we fade to black.
Nothing wrong with the shorts. Choire IS a man half his age.
Machismo? Hiding a beard with a mask? A real man uses his beard as a mask.
Jack Passion, pictured here, is not only a real man, but the man.
Disturbing.