A Study in Choreography for Camera

Maya Deren was a pioneer Avant-garde filmmaker who made several movies like this during her lifetime. This one is rather different since (1) it's only 2 minutes, very short for a film by her, and (2) There isn't as much depth to it. Normally Deren's films have a hidden meaning or a hidden story in them; this particular aspect isn't really clear here. To most people this is going to look like a guy dancing in a couple spots, but while the meaning isn't clear, it is there.

Now for those of you who've read my reviews on other Maya Deren films, you'll know that when I analyze a film like this I pick out symbolism and use it to find a hidden narrative. For instance, in the director's first, "Meshes of the Afternoon" we follow a woman as she struggles with her marriage, wondering if what she did was good for her. In that film I used the record playing on the record player to symbolize a beautiful start to the marriage, a knife to convey the couples' relationship being torn apart, a mysterious hooded figure with a mirror for a face to give us the idea of the woman's dark desires being mirrored and reflected until they overcome her, etc. Likewise here. There's a hidden idea here which I will explain in a moment.

The film begins with the dancer Talley Beatty in the forest. What, in this case, does a forest symbolize? Forests are big, wide, never-ending places, evoking a feeling of loneliness. Saying that, we can think that this man portrayed is lonely, at a hard place in his life. Thus, "A Study in Choreography for Camera" is a look at the different areas of a character's life.

The second spot the man dances in is a living room. If you've got a living room in your house, you'll know that they get messy. A messy living room can represent a cluttered mind, so we are now assuming that this second stage in life of the man is cluttered with problems. He has gone from lonely to rushed and confused.

The third spot is a museum. What can a museum symbolize? Wisdom. Knowledge. Wonder. We can assume that through wisdom the man has found out how to fix his life.

But we are all human. We all make mistakes. And so sometimes we slip. That is why suddenly the man finds himself slipping back into the feeling of loneliness he had at the beginning.

But why is the man dancing throughout the film? A lot of people, in these predicaments, would find life unbearable. But this man knows how to handle his feelings. His dance symbolizes joy. Throughout life he knows being unhappy will do him no good, so instead of being miserable he is joyful. From the title, Deren probably hadn't meant to make this movie to be symbolic in any way, but quite unintentionally she has provided us with an interesting morality lesson. It may not LOOK special, but there's a lot more than meets the eye.

I liked. Maybe little more than her previews films. Because it is pure poetry of dance, the different locations : the forest, the living room, the museum hall working just well , the dance representing the beautiful bridge between them, with inspired reference to a classic like The Afternoon of a Faun.

It is only choreography in maximun two minutes. A pure delight, I suppose, not only for dance admirers and a seductive work of camera.

Difficult and pretty unfair to write too much.

Only a beautiful show and admirable poetry of image .

For me, like in almost each film by Maya Deren, the story lives in myself and imagination gives it coherence.

Maya Deren's shortest, five-minute A Study in Choreography for Camera seems like an exercise piece to capture a dancer's movement on celluloid, which later on developed into her masterpieces such as Ritual in Transfigured Time and Meditation on Violence.

A difficulty in reviewing an avant-garde short is the danger of coming from the wrong mind-set. Some films are self-explanatory with varying amounts of attention. Some aren't. My first reaction on seeing this film – after falling in love with Deren's early, seemingly oneiric, stories – was not very positive.

But I could have been looking at something written in a foreign language and not known it. I dismissed it as artistic scribbles. Or perhaps I am not sufficiently steeped in film-making to recognise what she tried to illustrate.

Compared to Meshes of the Afternoon or At Land, I initially found A Study rather disappointing. I couldn't see it as an abstract exercise in 'creative geography' – merely a step down from something I had been able to relate to enthusiastically and immediately. I was wrong.

I take a second look at this well-regarded short some time later, when thinking about Sally Potter's ideas on the similarity of dance and film (in The Tango Lesson). Potter agonised over the moment before being, the blank slate, that hovering moment of 'becoming'. It made me think back to Maya Deren, this short film which unexpectedly sees a dancer transition through different surroundings.

Deren herself described her film as having, "the characteristic time quality of a woman." She explains it by comparison. "I think that the strength of men is their great sense of immediacy. They are a 'now' creature. And a woman has strength to wait, because she's had to wait. She has to wait nine months for the concept of a child. Time is built into her body in the sense of becomingness, and she sees everything in terms of it being in the stage of becoming."

There are (at least) two important features of A Study In Choreography For The Camera that make it interesting in this respect. They are interesting as part of the study – which the film is eponymously intended to be (rather than, say, just entertainment). The first of these is the transitions. A dancer raises his foot in a forest and puts it down again indoors – as part of the same step. He explores the museum. Then, with an intense spin, he returns to the outdoors, but without any suggestion of continuity in space. He does not leap so high physically that he escapes the walls of the museum. The outside simply is 'there' for him. The reality is that of the dancer, not of the external world. (The transitions are accomplished so skilfully that Gene Kelly was to seek her advice on how to approach them.)

"In any time-form, this is a very important sense. I think that my films, putting as much stress as they do upon the constant metamorphosis – one image is always becoming another – it is what is happening that is important in my films, not what 'is' at any moment. This is a woman's time sense, and I think it happens more in my films than almost anyone else's." Now, it is also possible to see the common train of thought between this and her earlier, more diegetic but equally challenging, films.

The second feature of the film which bears on time is Deren's specific decision to use slow motion. "Motion picture is a time form," says Deren. "Just as the telescope reveals the structure of matter in a way that the unaided eye can never see it, so slow motion reveals the structure of motion. Events that occur rapidly, so that they seem a continuous flux, are revealed in slow motion to be full of pulsations and agonies and indecisions and repetitions."

What better way to illustrate this than with the hidden exertions of a ballet dancer? Strength, concentration, even pain, all sublimated to look effortless and beautiful. Magnified and stripped of the illusion created by performance in normal time, the dancer becomes more like a moving sculpture. We can examine him at leisure. It is this focus which particularly separates the work from say, Shirley Clarke's A Dance in the Sun, which also explores a dancing moving through different locations but whose overall effect is to isolate energy and the state of mind of the dancer.

Like dancing, Deren's finished work appears so effortless that it is all too easy to miss its subtlety. (For a similar microscopic examination of the film-making process distributed after her death, an accompanying film, called Outtakes from A Study in Choreography for Camera, assembled 15 minutes of footage from which the final film had been distilled.)

The title points us towards yet another innovation. Instead of statically recording, the camera is an active participant (the subtitle of the film is 'Pas de Deux'). The 16mm Bolex is an equal partner to Talley Beatty, the dancer. Near the beginning, it makes some long pans. We see Beatty several times, among the trees. It is almost as if trick photography has been used, but in fact we are simply seeing him from the camera's point-of-view-as-a-dancer. The camera is not limited by space and time. Or as Deren more poetically wrote, "The movement of the dancer creates a geography that never was. With a turn of the foot, he makes neighbours of distant places."

Deren has used the principles developed in her earlier films to create a window within a film. We see the dance as separate from the surroundings, in order better to study its nature.

But unless such ideas excite you, A Study in Choreography for the Camera is not going to blow your socks off. "I make my pictures for what Hollywood spends on lipstick," she famously said. If however, you also harbour a suspicion that Hollywood "has been a major obstacle to the definition and development of motion pictures as a creative fine-art form," then maybe it's time to take a walk – or a leap – into the world of Maya Deren.

Maya Deren always loved dancing and always wanted to make a film about that art. A study in choreography for camera is a result of her collaboration with dancer Talley Beatty and while it's too short to make someone understand what Maya Deren's films were about it will surely interest her fans.