"Convento," Reviewed - Movies - News - IFC.com

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Unorthodox subjects demand an equally unorthodox documentary -- an "unortho-doc?" -- like "Convento," a quiet and curious film about a quiet and curious family living in a former monastery in Portugal, the Convento Sao Francisco de Mertola. They're the Zwanikkens: mother and former prima ballerina Geraldine, animal and nature lover Louis, and Christiaan, the "kinetic artist" who spends most of his time designing bizarre sculptures, like the one above, that fuse animal bones and remains with working robotics to create moving (practically living) works of art. In this former house of God, Christiaan gets to play God himself, giving life to these weird little robo-beasts.

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indieWIRE presents 'Meet the 2011 SXSW Filmmakers'

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Growing up in front of the camera…

I grew up with a super 8mm home movie camera shouting directions at me. In fact, for years I was convinced my father did not have a face. All I saw was a blinking green light (while I transformed into The Hulk or Spiderman) and a static red light while my father thought about the next shot. My mother was always concerned with the lens being too close, but I couldn’t get enough. I was able to wear a cape most of my childhood.

Once a month in our North East Philly apartment we had movie nights in our smoky living room. I have vivid memories of the loud motor from the projector and a silhouette of my father carefully setting up the screen. I watched our family become illuminated and immortalized, and this feeling of being a part of something truly magical. As a kid these images on the screen were hyper-real (and sort of psychedelic.) It was like some insane version of our lives, where we talked a lot faster and sometimes screamed for no reason. The muted colors, grainy texture and dramatic shifts from light to darkness were… shocking. But I think what made the strongest impression on me was this bizarre sense of time. I was flying around in my cape in one direction and suddenly I would enter the frame from another. Day would become night. Seasons would change. What the hell was going on here? This nightmarish collision of time and space made me sea sick, but it was so exciting!

From super 8mm to VHS…

Years later I began to experiment with my own home movies. Super 8mm became VHS. In-camera edits of my friends shoving cigarettes in their mouths and drinking black coffee in diners, became a Friday night ritual. I always had a camera with me. I was always looking for that hyper-realism I felt as a kid with those super 8mm home movies. And I guess I should thank that man with the blinking lights for eyes and the lens for a face, who lured me into this profession.

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