"It's not because there's a camera," he says to the camera, among other things. But to account for this "not", and despite my extensive notes, I have to watch the scene again to get what he intends, his reason for doing something in front of this camera, absorbed by its film roll, played back to his film-going self by a projector in a darkened room.
He talks about Brecht, so maybe the reminder that the camera that records the (non-traditional theatrical action) is not towards a device that will bring about a gooey emotional response, but a jagged self-reflexive consideration of our RL world, a dialectical response, as if it is a critical essay we are reading, not a bourgeoise sentimental entertainment.
Truth is I am watching the film towards the making of something whose emergent form has reminded me of the structure of Godard's La Chinoise (1967). It has been years since I have seen the film and I am watching it at a rate of five minutes for every one minute of film time, my finger on the pause button.
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