In the 17th century, before the invention of the motion picture, one of the most popular fads of the period were the Magic Lantern shows, the projection of still images on a screen. Such projections is known today as slide shows, the "magic lantern" itself being a primitive form of a photo projector. It is in this tradition that Ken Jacobs made "Celestial Subway Lines/Salvaging Noise" - a film better seen for oneself than described. As a whole, and despite the above statement, it would be unfair to consider this an homage to the Magic Lantern shows: certainly there are strong references to the background history of it, but when viewing the film it certainly doesn't become like anything along those lines at all. As a whole, the hour-long movie becomes more like an experience in itself, and while the visual look and especially the ending eludes to this aspect of a slide show, much of this could be ignored to just see it as an abstraction and for the imagery itself.
Jacobs's film consists entirely of a series of surrealistic images, flickered as if being shown through a projector. It is impossible to really describe what these visuals look like except that in some ways they resemble underground caverns (hence the title). This is already very effectively done, and for a little over an hour it really becomes a hypnotic thing to see, particularly in how the images clearly shift overtime to look completely different, but do so in such a way that the viewer doesn't notice it overtly happening. What really makes it work is the soundtrack by John Zorn and Ikue Mori, however: as my review title states, the combination of these two distinct factors evoke a certain mysterious atmosphere that becomes particularly intense in certain spots. Despite the length, it never becomes boring either and keeps the audience engaged in seeing the changes in music and visuals: a truly one-of-a-kind experience.
The ending is what really makes it become self-referential to the very thing used to create itself, as the last few minutes show an audience in a theater clapping after the apparent presentation of the film. The theater is a small one as were those in the Magic Lantern days, and to show the live audience applauding after the film is to pay homage to the history behind the very device that made everything possible. Maybe not a fitting ending compared to the visuals preceding it (and hardly necessary if one wished to view it alone for the abstraction), but an interesting afterthought and emphasis on the self-reflective aspect which wasn't as apparent to the rest of the film.
