Movie Review: Self-Portrait
A CCTV image from Self-Portrait. Image: Joële Walinga
Sitting down to watch Self-Portrait, described as a “portrait of humanity as captured by its surveillance cameras”, brings with it preconceived notions. A film made up entirely of footage from low-quality surveillance cameras could be boring. And, well, unfortunately, it is.
Directed, produced and edited by Canadian artist and filmmaker Joële Walinga, the feature documentary consists of 67 minutes of footage and sounds collected during the last four years from CCTV cameras primarily set up for property-protecting purposes. Marketed for SXSW Film Festival as “an immersive experience” and “poem”, Self-Portrait unfortunately fails to deliver on a cohesive purpose as it’s tough to see past the camera lens.
Undeniably, there are some stunningly breathtaking shots, which can’t be attributed to a cinematographer – but that’s the point. The film opens with glorious images of snowy landscapes. Later, a cloud rolls its shadow over green hills. But even the most serene images are disrupted by stark reality. At another point, during a beautiful sunset that stains the sky green, yellow, pink and orange, the slight shake of the camera, and what sounds like a flagpole clinking in the background, separates the viewer from the art. By drawing attention to the medium of the camera, we’re disconnected from the scene. Later, from the low-angle shot focused on the mountains, it seems as though a camera has been stuffed into a bush. So the most fascinating question prompted by the film is, why are there cameras here?
One of the few times we are indoors, the captured footage is a church altar. In a shot that lingers too long, sound designer Ines Adriana highlights the communal atmosphere with the organ playing in the background, a door creaking open and gentle murmurings of churchgoers. We are made to stare at this altar for one minute and 40 seconds. Almost two minutes of stillness. If the purpose is to emphasise the (forgive me) unexciting side of attending a service, it’s successful. But at what cost?
The most engaging sequences are undoubtedly those involving humans. I found myself leaning forward when catching a glimpse of a person, hoping for a moment of connection, emotion… something! But alas, to the watchful mountains we returned.
It goes without saying there is no traditional plot to Self-Portrait. If the hope is for something reminiscent of a multi-narrative structure (think fictional films Love Actually and Pulp Fiction), we’re left wanting with the seemingly nonsensical order that alienates the audience from whatever image of the world Walinga is attempting to convey. The jarring juxtaposition between shots – from two rocks jutting out of the ocean to a tiger lolling about in its cage – doesn’t even attempt to coalesce in a story, convey a message or affect a passionate feeling.
An argument could be made that Self-Portrait is a commentary on the relationship between nature and technology. Take the image of a flock of birds flying over a lake nestled between mountains: because of the delay, the birds look like specks from an old film camera. Was this an intentional metaphor? And if not, what is its value?
Recently, Walinga shared a collection of her favourite stills from the documentary. Here, she admits, “I didn't really have an objective other than overwhelming delight and curiosity.” And therein lies the problem. The message is lost because it was never prescribed.
Self-Portrait is a cold mosaic of landscapes, unfeeling and isolating. Yes, there is artistry behind the simple premise, but you will be hard-pressed to find a connection or reflections of humanity in Walinga’s documentary. Still, if surveillance is your speed, it’s worth a look.
